Much of Christian TV needs extreme makeover.
You might be shocked to know that I don’t watch much Christian television. With my hectic schedule I don’t have time for talk shows. I do enjoy broadcast news, PBS documentaries and an occasional movie on AMC. When I am in total couch-potato mode I’ve been known to watch reruns of Boy Meets World and America’s Funniest Videos with my kids.

But my children aren’t too fond of religious broadcasting, and I don’t blame them. I would rather sit in traffic and listen to my favorite worship music than watch a group of slick-haired evangelists gab about the importance of tithing.

I know there are great Bible teachers on the air today, and TV pioneers Marcus and Joni Lamb of Daystar Television Network are making remarkable strides to improve the image of Christians in the media (see our story on page 36). But let’s be honest: Christian broadcasting today is a vast wasteland of missed opportunities.
I’d like to offer a few suggestions on how Christian TV executives could stop turning off viewers.

1. Get real. People are looking for authenticity, not hokum. When unbelievers see Christians on TV they need to know we have real human problems as well as practical answers. They don’t need to see hypocritical masks, hear pat answers or be forced to decipher sappy, religious lingo.

We must be as professional as possible to reach the masses. National television is no place to be cheesy, flamboyant or weird.

2. Reset the clock. This is 2006. Much of Christian TV needs an extreme makeover. The gospel is timeless, but that doesn’t mean we will attract big audiences without new packaging.

My generation is not going to watch a Christian version of Hee Haw or The Lawrence Welk Show. I know of one prominent pastor who refers to typical Christian television as a “granny hootenanny” because the sets, music and preaching don’t appeal to anyone under 75. Christian networks need to hire some people under 30 and let them invent a new broadcasting formula.

3. Give us some substance. I realize that some people watch Christian TV instead of going to church. (That is actually a very scary thought.) But since many of us already attend a worship service at least once a week, Christian programs should not be like church services beamed from La-La Land. We need more than an inspirational song, canned applause, a sermon and a lengthy offering appeal. Help us apply the Word of God to everyday life!

4. Tone down the begging. Some Christian programs remind me of those mindless infomercials that air at 3 a.m. to entertain insomniacs. Except in this case, instead of movie stars from the 1970s selling face creams, diet shakes or vegetable storage systems, Christian leaders gather on the same set night after night to preach their favorite prosperity messages.

They jostle to the music, slap one another’s backs and remind the audience that God will free them from debt if they charge a $1,000 love gift on their credit cards. Meanwhile, for effect, studio technicians play the sound of ringing telephones in the background. (Do phones still sound like that?)

Someone please make them stop! This is bad advertising for the gospel. These people make it sound as if God is constantly running short on cash. Here’s an idea: Why couldn’t Christian stations have commercials? I’d rather hear from the local car dealer every 15 minutes than endure an hour of telethon torture.

5. Have some integrity. What really grieves me is that a network will put any old preacher on the air if he can wow a crowd. Never mind that his theology is toxic. Never mind that he left his wife and married another lady a week later. He can sure get the people to shout—and to open their wallets!

I won’t be a guest on many Christian talk shows as a result of this article. But I hope someone out there in TV land is listening—and is willing to make today’s programming relevant to mainstream viewers who certainly are not going to find Jesus while watching HBO. I believe that if we get back in touch with reality, people will tune in by the millions.

Missionary Heidi Baker knows that ministry is not about her.
American missionary Heidi Baker is not a normal preacher. When she spoke at a conference I attended in Ohio in early August, she delivered half of her sermon while lying on the floor. She was clutching the microphone in her hand and her forehead was resting on the carpet.

“I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,” she said, quoting Philippians 3:8. She interrupted her message several times with the high-pitched giggle that has become her trademark.

This was not your average, seeker-sensitive sermon.

A petite, 46-year-old blonde, Baker told the crowd at the Encounters Network conference in Cincinnati that those of us who want to be used by God in powerful ways must learn to relinquish our arrogance and self-sufficiency. She said: “God told me once, ‘I want you to come up to the lowest place.’ ”

Baker easily could have positioned herself as a Christian superstar. Fluent in several languages, she is a gifted communicator with advanced educational degrees. She also has seen astounding miracles during her 30 years of ministry, especially in Mozambique, where she and her husband, Rolland, have planted more than 7,000 “bush churches,” five Bible schools and four children’s feeding centers since 1990.

Just days before she arrived in Cincinnati, Baker prayed for two blind beggars who wandered into her tent meeting at her base in Pemba, Mozambique. Both men instantly received their sight after Baker wet her fingers with saliva and touched their eyes.

Such astounding miracles are common to Heidi and Rolland. They have seen God supernaturally multiply rice and chili to feed hungry orphans. Heidi has watched paralytics walk for the first time after they received prayer. And indigenous African pastors the Bakers trained have raised 53 people from the dead so far.

But Baker does not carry herself like a celebrity evangelist. She does not wear designer clothes or arrive at conferences in limousines. She does not wave her hand over swooning audiences or publish glossy brochures with photographs of herself standing in front of crowds of Africans.

When it is time to minister to the sick, she often calls her trained team to do most of the praying. Sometimes she asks children to pray for the crippled and dying.

She knows that ministry is not about her.

At the Cincinnati conference, which was sponsored by charismatic ministers James and Michal Ann Goll, Baker rebuked the American church in her sweet and disarming way. Because she lives “in the dirt” among the poorest people in Africa, she said, God has taught her principles from the Bible that sophisticated Western Christians struggle to understand.

“God wants to tweak some things” in the Western church, she said, noting that we place too much importance on position, intellect and human ability.

She then demonstrated the solution to our dilemma by kneeling on the floor again. “God wants laid-down love,” Baker said. Hundreds of people—myself included—put our faces in the carpet and asked Jesus to wreck our pride.

Being with Baker helped me reorder my priorities. I was reminded that ministry is not about visibility; it is about serving in secret, where the praises of men are irrelevant. Ministry is not about giving people a slick, culturally-relevant presentation; it is about offending the mind to reach the heart. Ministry is not about making rich Christians feel good about themselves; it is about seeing the face of Jesus in the face of an AIDS-infected child.

Baker’s message made me uncomfortable, but all the squirming was worth it. I’ve decided I want to go lower—into a place of humility where the presence and power of God displaces all my smug self-satisfaction. A place where He increases and I decrease.

All of us should take that plunge. I hope to see you at the bottom.

The church today is dangerously close to forgetting the past.
During a recent visit with my parents in Georgia, two of my daughters asked if they could listen to a tape recording my father made in 1962 when I was only 4 years old. So my dad rummaged through some drawers and found the old reel-to-reel tape. Then he went to the garage and found an old tape player that no one in the family had used since the Nixon administration.

To our surprise the scratchy tape actually played without breaking, and my girls laughed when they heard me—in a babyish Southern drawl—describing a fishing trip with my grandfather. After my “interview,” it switched to an older recording that included comments from my four grandparents—all of whom died years ago. The sound of their voices unearthed random memories of family reunions, porch swings and big Sunday dinners.

It’s weird how a voice from the past can whisk you back in time. Lately I have been listening to the words of some dead Christian heroes—not by way of a tape player or an iPod, but by reading their classic books. It has made me realize that the church today is dangerously close to forgetting the past.

Their names are probably familiar to you. Andrew Murray. Charles Spurgeon. Fanny Crosby. Watchman Nee. A.W. Tozer. William Seymour. Corrie ten Boom. Leonard Ravenhill.

These people knew a spiritual depth that is on the verge of extinction. They challenged the Christians of their generation to embrace repentance and humility. They understood a realm of spiritual maturity and godly character that few of us today even aspire to obtain. What was their secret?

They considered brokenness, selflessness and sacrifice the crowning virtues of the Christian journey. They called the church to die to selfishness, greed and ambition. They knew what it means to carry a “burden” for lost souls. They challenged God’s people to pursue obedience—even if obedience hurts.

Even their hymns reflected a level of consecration that is foreign in worship today. They sang often of the cross and its wonder. Their lyrics focused on the blood and its power. They sang words of heart-piercing conviction: “My richest gain I count but loss / And pour contempt on all my pride / Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast / Save in the death of Christ, My God.”

In so many churches today the cross isn’t mentioned and the blood is avoided. Worship is a canned performance that involves rhythm and orchestration but offers no substance. We produce music that is trendy but lacks heart and cannot evoke tears.

In the books Christians buy today you will find little mention of brokenness. That isn’t what sells. We are not interested in a life that might require suffering, patience, purging or the discipline of the Lord. We want our blessings and we want them now. So we look for the discounted brand of Christian self-help that is quick and painless.

We’re running on empty. We think we are sophisticated, but like the Laodiceans we are actually poor, blind and naked (see Rev. 3:17). We need to return to our first love but we don’t know where to begin.

These voices from the past will help point the way. Recently I’ve found myself drawn to read Ravenhill, ten Boom, Murray and Tozer. I’ve even dusted off an old hymnal and rediscovered the richness of songs that I had thrown out years ago—because I thought anything old was just religious and traditional.

Of course we need today’s fresh revelation. But we also must dig for the timeless treasure buried by faithful saints who paid a high price to know Jesus intimately. We will never effectively reach our generation if we don’t reclaim the humility, the consecration and the travail that our spiritual forefathers considered normal Christianity.

God’s perspective isn’t based on right-wing or left-wing rhetoric.
Most evangelical Christians stand united in their opposition to abortion, same-sex marriage and gambling. But if you bring up the issue of immigration reform, the temperature drops and icy walls appear between whites and other ethnic groups. We all read the same Bible, but many Hispanic church leaders look at it from a different angle.

Luis Perez, 51, runs an inner-city ministry affiliated with Bethel Christian Fellowship in Rochester, New York. He spends much of his time working with Ethiopian, Ukrainian and Hispanic immigrants—many of whom harvest corn, cabbage and tomatoes at area farms. A U.S. citizen of Puerto Rican heritage, Perez hopes our government will be merciful as leaders construct a policy to deal with the nation’s 7 million illegal immigrants.

“As Christians we must take care of the aliens. They are here in our midst and we must help them,” says Perez, admitting that he has encountered subtle anti-Hispanic racism among both white and black Christians.

Perez does not believe the U.S. government should be lax about border controls. He also tells immigrant pastors living in this country that they should become U.S. citizens. But he does not support wholesale deportation because it splits up families and is often harshly enforced.

“This is an issue of justice,” Perez says, using a biblical word that is rare in the typical conservative Christian’s vocabulary.

Most Hispanic pastors working in the United States echo Perez’s views. Some of them recently opposed the U.S. House of Representatives immigration reform bill, H.R. 4437, which called for stricter border controls, a crackdown on illegals and criminalization of those who aid them.

Sammy Rodriguez, a California-based Pentecostal, calls the House bill anti-Hispanic, anti-immigrant and anti-Christian.

“There is serious dialogue needed between the white evangelical church and the Hispanic evangelical church in America,” Rodriguez says. “We carry around on our wristbands the WWJD?—’What Would Jesus Do?’ We really need to ask the question, ‘What would Jesus do in respect to immigration reform?'”

While our lawmakers are hammering out a final immigration bill for approval, God’s people should be asking the tough questions, which include the following:

The Holy Spirit is easily quenched by pride, greed and religious agendas.
I’ll never forget my first trip to Brownsville Assembly of God. It was 1995, the year an uncanny revival erupted at the nondescript Pentecostal church in Pensacola, Florida.

The rumor was that God had visited the quiet Southern town. I came not only as a reporter but also as a hungry seeker.

In the early days of the revival, the faithful came by bus, car and airplane from all over the world. Eager worshipers waited for hours in the sweltering humidity to get a seat for 7 p.m. services that often lasted past midnight. When evangelist Steve Hill finished his nightly sermons—in which he demanded repentance from spiritual compromise—the majority of people in the auditorium would run to the front of the church and bury their faces on the floor.

Wailing was commonly heard during those meetings. Some people shook under the weight of conviction. It did not matter if you were a drug addict needing conversion or a pastor living in secret sin: Everyone found forgiveness and an unusual sense of refreshing in that holy place.

My life was changed there. I wept on the carpet and repented for my journalistic cynicism. One night, in the midst of all the pandemonium near the stage, I ran over to where Hill was praying. He grabbed my head and screamed: “Fire! Fire! More, Lord!”

I was one of the thousands who fell backward on that floor. I was not pretending. I felt as if God had placed a heavy blanket of His presence on top of me.

I don’t question whether the Holy Spirit was in that place. But now that it has been more than 10 years, I am asking other questions. Why has this church that hosted hundreds of thousands of visitors shrunk to a few hundred members? Why do they now owe millions of dollars for a building they can’t fill? Why are so many people who were part of the Brownsville church now hurt and disillusioned? Did the leaders of this movement mishandle the anointing of God’s presence like Uzzah did when the ark of God almost toppled on the ground (see 2 Sam. 6:6-8)?

History shows us that revival is always risky. The devil opposes it, and carnal flesh gets in its way. The Holy Spirit is easily quenched by pride, greed, strife and selfish religious agendas.

I can’t be the judge of what brought Brownsville’s demise. But we must face the facts and learn some lessons.

The Brownsville Revival School of Ministry in its heyday had an enrollment of 1,200 students. That number shrunk to 120 this year. The church announced in May that the school will relocate to Louisiana under the direction of revivalist Tommy Tenney.

“One lasting legacy of the Brownsville revival is the school,” Tenney recently told me, noting that graduates are doing missionary work in 122 countries. One alumnus, in fact, was instrumental in discovering an unevangelized people group in Indonesia.

That is thrilling news. But my heart is still grieved that the church where this marvelous outpouring occurred is now just a shell of what it once was.

Brownsville’s attendance now hovers around 500. One former staff member told me that a large group of Brownsville members now attend a local Southern Baptist church in the city, while many others don’t go anywhere.

“People have been leaving for three or four years,” the former pastor said. “Some are not in church at all, including some who were on staff. I don’t know anyone who has not been hurt.”

At one point during the heyday of the movement, Korean pastor David Yonggi Cho announced from Brownsville’s pulpit that the revival “would last until Jesus comes.” Certainly the fruit of this revival will remain that long. But for those in Pensacola who were swept up in the ecstasy of those early years and then endured splits, resignations, debts and disappointments, the word “revival” now has a hollow ring to it.

Still, my heart cries: “Lord, do it again.” The next time He does, I pray we will transport the ark the way God intended—and keep our hands off it.

George Barna has crossed a line with his new book, Revolution.
Pollster George Barna has provided a valuable service to leaders in business, politics and ministry by identifying important spiritual trends. A keen analyst, he warned us in his groundbreaking 1990 book, The Frog in the Kettle, that evangelical Christians don’t necessarily embrace evangelical values.

But Barna has crossed a line with his new book, Revolution. The tempered sociologist has become something of a mad scientist. By cooking the numbers and injecting his own biases into this experiment, he has created a Frankenstein that is now on the loose.

We should all be concerned about this monster.

Barna’s theory is that large numbers of American Christians are disillusioned with church and have quit the Sunday morning routine. He applauds this trend and labels these church dropouts “revolutionaries” who—in his opinion—have more spiritual creativity and passion than stick-in-the-mud traditionalists.

He also believes that those who have left the mainstream church will soon overhaul modern Christianity. He describes their mission as “a daring redefinition of the church as we know it.”

Barna offers a gloomy assessment of the future of the American religious scene, claiming that by the year 2025: (1) the number of churches in this country will dramatically decline; (2) church attendance will drop; (3) donations to churches will plummet; and (4) fewer clergy will receive a livable salary while denominations are forced to make huge cutbacks.

Barna seems to welcome this scenario, and he casts disaffected Christians as the heroes. They are tired of tithing, weary of boring sermons and burned out on the religious routine. With revolutionary zeal—and with Barna as their mentor—they are challenged to buck the system and start meeting together in glorious spontaneity in homes and coffee bars.

If you still attend a “regular” church, Barna makes you feel like a weirdo. According to his research, the relevant Christians who care about Jesus and love people will say adios to their pastors and write “Ichabod” on the doors of ecclesiastical buildings. He envisions a “spiritual awakening” in which people are drawn away from the church, not toward it.

Barna even provides a creed we can recite at the end of his book, which includes this statement: “I am not called to attend or join a church. I am called to be the Church.”

I don’t want to pick a fight here because I agree with many of Barna’s views. Of course it’s true that Christians don’t have to worship in religious buildings. Of course most ministry should be happening outside church walls. Of course we should leave room for creative church models to emerge (including the house churches we profiled in our article on page 52 of this issue).

The real issue here is not where churches meet. Many of the charismatic congregations I visit each month gather in schools, offices, industrial parks or civic buildings. Last year I preached at a church in India that meets in a farmer’s front yard.

But there is a huge difference between the growing organic churches of the developing world (all of which have appointed leaders and apostolic oversight) and the loosey-goosey revolution Barna advocates. He wants to reinvent the church without its biblical structure and New Testament order—and without the people who are anointed by God to guide it.

That’s not innovation. That’s anarchy. To follow Barna’s defective thesis to its logical conclusion would require us to fire all pastors, close all Bible colleges, padlock our sanctuaries and then huddle in a “spontaneous” home group led by renegades.

No thanks. I have met too many of these “revolutionaries.” Many of them are angry and cynical. They have no respect for godly authority, so they flit from one place to another and then leave as soon as someone dares to confront their pride.
With all respect to Barna, this flawed proposal needs to be recalled before it causes serious spiritual damage.

Almost 40 years ago a young missionary from Tennessee named Naomi Dowdy ventured to the Marshall Islands to begin her ministry. She battled loneliness, sickness and culture shock while learning to love rice, Chinese noodles and all things Asian. She eventually planted a church in Singapore that grew to 5,000 members in 30 years.

After turning the leadership of Trinity Christian Center over to the man she trained, Naomi began traveling all over the world, teaching pastors how to grow churches. Today, while many women her age are taking dream vacations or playing bingo with friends, Naomi is more passionate than ever about claiming nations for Jesus. How I wish there were more Naomi Dowdys in the world.

I have had the privilege of sitting under Naomi’s teaching ministry and sharing the pulpit with her for the last two years, and she has become a true spiritual mother in my life. That’s why I am so thrilled to introduce you to her in this issue of SpiritLed Woman. I hope that when you read her article on page 16 you will receive a boost in your faith.

By watching Naomi I have learned that women have so much more potential than most church leaders recognize. Some religious traditionalists would be happy if all women sat in the back of the sanctuary. Actually, God has placed a desire in women to engage in spiritual battle and to join men as equal partners in building His kingdom.

Perhaps we have forgotten that when God called Abram to be the father of our faith, he also called a barren woman named Sarai. Both Abram and Sarai struggled to believe they could be the parents of “many nations,” as God had promised (Gen. 17:4,16).

Even though the promise was reaffirmed seven times, Abram and his wife wrestled with doubts. Both fell into the trap of rationalizing their promise away. And both came to the conclusion that they were too old to ever see the fulfillment of what God had guaranteed.

But in the end, after God changed both Abram’s and Sarai’s names, they believed. They became heroes of faith. Even though Sarah had laughed to herself when she heard about God’s promised miracle, ultimately she received the ability to conceive—at the age of 90! That little baby Isaac is the best proof that God produces His biggest miracles in the midst of human brokenness.

What about you? It’s likely that God gave you some special promises many years ago. You may have put some of them on a shelf, or perhaps you even laughed them away—thinking to yourself, “That could never happen to me.” Or perhaps you gave God a list of excuses:

“I’m too old. I’ve missed my chance. I’m not qualified. I’ve made too many mistakes.”

The devil loves to play those messages over and over in your ears. You must fight back by pushing the eject button.

I’m glad my friend Naomi Dowdy didn’t listen to the voices of doubt. Instead, like Sarah, she held fast to the impossible dream. Today, even though she never married, Naomi has countless spiritual sons and daughters ministering all over the globe. And her life is now inspiring a new generation of women who are called to be nation-changers.

It’s not too late to become a woman of faith. Tune out the shame and condemnation. Quit rationalizing. Don’t laugh at the impossibilities. Stop looking at the darkness of your circumstances and instead gaze on the bright promises of His Word. He is eager to turn your barrenness into joyful shouting.

The “superstar syndrome” seduces leaders to become arrogant and greedy.
Pastor Henry Madava has experienced the power of God firsthand. Once when he was leading an evangelistic meeting in Pakistan he prayed for a boy’s clubbed foot and watched it become normal in an instant. The child’s Muslim parents saw the miracle and immediately decided to become Christians.

Seven people in Madava’s 6,500-member Victory Christian Church in Kiev, Ukraine, have been raised from the dead. Every Sunday dozens of people are healed at the altar while Madava prays from the stage.

“Lots of cancers are healed,” says Madava, a native of
Zimbabwe who came to Kiev in 1986 to study aeronautical engineering at a communist university. He began his church in 1992 with three people. Today it is the one of the largest churches in a country where few Africans live.’

Victory is not the only large church in Kiev pastored by an African. A few miles away, Sunday Adelaja—a Nigerian who came to Russia to study journalism—leads a 25,000-member congregation, the Embassy of God. Both men are successful, but they define success differently than many Americans do.
Both Madava, 40, and Adelaja, 38, are concerned about what they call a “superstar syndrome” that is spreading from the United States to churches around the world. It seduces leaders to become arrogant and greedy. When Adelaja hears about the glamorous lifestyles of some American ministers, he gets a puzzled look on his face. “Is this a virus?” he asks.

Then he tells of one American minister who recently sent word that he must stay in the presidential suite in the most expensive hotel in Kiev when he visits. Adelaja can’t understand why ministers should be pampered like rock stars. He measures New Testament faith not by the size of a preacher’s personal jet but by how he loves and serves people.

Both Adelaja and Madava have endured persecution in a nation that still struggles with communism, racism and mafia control. Madava has received death threats, and the government has tried to deport Adelaja numerous times. Newspapers have run cartoons portraying both men as savages with bones through their noses.

Both men have built impressive ministries with little support from the West. Victory has planted 85 churches in Ukraine and another 23 in other parts of the world. The Embassy of God has spawned 450 autonomous congregations that do not tithe to the headquarters. Adelaja is opposed to starting a denomination, and he doesn’t want his name on anyone’s marquee.

“Everybody is busy building a big church. Let’s build the kingdom,” he says.
Madava was brutally honest when I asked him about the American church. “Many leaders in America have received the anointing but they have become clouds without water,” he says. “Most of them seem to lose the anointing. I wish the American church could keep the water in the cloud.”

Americans who visit Adelaja’s cavernous church in Kiev are surprised when they see the modest lifestyle of this modern apostle. He and his Nigerian wife, Bosé, and their three children live in a three-bedroom apartment. He drives a 2002 Dodge Caravan. He also spends one week a month praying and fasting.

Why is it that Americans whose churches are not even one-tenth the size of Adelaja’s think they deserve five-star treatment?

Madava offered me the answer: “God asked me once whether I wanted to be (1) more powerful, or (2) more important. I decided I would rather be powerful in God than to be part of ‘the club.'”

I wish Madava and Adelaja would spend some time in the United States. They need to give us a brotherly kick in the rear end. After listening to these guys for a few hours, it was obvious to me that God has anointed men and women from the developing world to lead the church into the 21st century. We need to emulate their radical humility.

“We did not honor men for their advantages”. Frank Bartleman
To compile this commemorative issue of Charisma, my staff combed through lots of 100-year-old articles, archival photographs and yellowed newspapers. We wanted to grasp what life was like in 1906 when the Azusa Street Revival hit Los Angeles, but I found myself wishing that I could interview the actual people involved. I especially would have liked to interview Frank Bartleman, the journalist-turned-preacher who wrote some of the most detailed, insightful accounts of this amazing movement of God.

I couldn’t talk with him. But if time travel were an option, the conversation would probably sound much like this.

Charisma: Now that you have spent a few days in the 21st century, what surprises you most about our culture?

Frank Bartleman: I am speechless. I can’t believe people talk on telephones while they drive cars. And I can’t believe people pay $ for a cup of coffee. What is this place­—Starbucks? Americans seem too busy. They don’t have time for prayer.

Charisma: Now that you have visited some of our megachurches and watched our Christian television programs, what do you think about the state of Christianity today?

Bartleman: (There is an awkward pause while he fidgets with his hat. He says nothing.)

Charisma: We can come back to that question. Meanwhile, tell us what it was like in the Asuza Street prayer meetings.

Bartleman: (He regains some composure.) The services ran almost continuously. Seeking souls could be found under the power almost any hour of the night or day. The place was never closed or empty. The people came to meet God.

The meeting did not depend on the human leader. In that old building, with its low rafters and bare floors, God broke strong men and women to pieces, and put them together again, for His glory. It was a tremendous overhauling process. Pride and self-assertion, self-importance and self-esteem could not survive there.

Charisma: That is quite a contrast with what we see in our churches today. In 2006 we like our preachers to be celebrities.

Bartleman: (There is another long pause.) We did not even have a platform or pulpit in the beginning. All were on the same level. The ministers were servants, according to the true meaning of the word. We did not honor men for their advantage in means or education, but rather for their God-given gifts.

Charisma: American Christianity today is big. We like big. We are reaching millions with our television programs, our Web sites and huge churches. Some of our churches today have more than 25,000 members. Doesn’t that excite you?

Bartleman: (He strokes his beard and fidgets with his hat again. No answer.)

Charisma: This is awkward. I’m not enjoying this interview.

Bartleman: At Azusa Street, the rich and educated were the same as the poor and ignorant, and found a much harder death to die. We only recognized God. All were equal.

Charisma: How did you end up at the Azusa Mission?

Bartleman: I moved to Los Angeles in 1904 because I sensed God was getting ready to do something wonderful there. Evan Roberts, leader of the 1904 Welsh Revival, encouraged me to pray for a mighty awakening in California.
Charisma: Why did God choose William Seymour to lead the Azusa Street Revival?

Bartleman: He was very plain, spiritual and humble. There was a general spirit of humility manifested in the meeting. Evidently the Lord had found the little company at last through whom He could have right of way. That which man esteems had been passed by once more and the Spirit was born again in a humble stable. The time had come.

Charisma: So we need more humility and prayer today?

Bartleman: The prayer life is needed much more than even buildings or organizations. These are often a substitute for the other. Souls are born into the kingdom only through prayer.

God gives His girls equality and has commisioned them to take territory for His kingdom.

Most Israelites who traveled through the Sinai desert with Moses probably knew about the daughters of Zelophehad. While other women hid inside tents and covered themselves head to foot with heavy veils, these girls—Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah and Tirzah—defied the patriarchal system of their day and earned a special place in biblical history.

We rarely hear sermons about Zelophehad’s daughters today, even though they are mentioned in the Bible five times (see Num. 26:33; 27:1-7; 36:1-12; 1 Chr. 7:15; Josh. 17:1-6). Maybe this is because many church leaders simply don’t want to empower women or are afraid to. But it is time we unlocked these women’s secret for a new generation.

God’s daughters must understand who they are, how their heavenly Father views them, and what He has commissioned them to do in His kingdom. The daughters’ portion must be claimed.

You may have been told that women have only second-class status in the church, or that your role is limited because of your gender. You may have even been told that women are less valuable to God, or less useful. But the Bible contradicts this view.

In fact, the Old Testament contains several accounts of daughters who were empowered and given their full inheritance—in an age when boys were preferred over girls, and women had no civil rights. The stories of these daughters are recorded in Scripture so that you, too, will muster the courage to claim your inheritance.

Five Pioneer Women At a time when most women in Israel lived like prisoners in polygamous households, the daughters of Zelophehad must have spent lots of time outside their tent. They were curious. They had a zest for life. And they refused to be confined by the limitations of their culture.

Why did they think differently from other women of that era? My theory is that their parents offered these girls overwhelming validation and encouragement. Zelophehad, who had no sons, must have decided after his first daughter was born that he was content to raise a houseful of women. He recognized their value. He was generous with his affection and instilled in his daughters a powerful sense of personal destiny.

Zelophehad probably showered his daughters with gifts, held them in his lap after dinner and told them stories about the exodus from Egypt while he tucked them into bed. They knew their daddy loved them, and his affirmation nurtured a sense of empowerment.

I can imagine these playful girls dancing and singing next to their father’s goat pens as they did their chores. Their ankle bracelets jingling as they skipped past the tents in Manasseh’s encampment.

Neighbors might have even complained about all the giggling that came from Zelophehad’s household. They may have shouted to Zelophehad’s wife, “Tell those girls to be quiet!”

But these girls were not easily silenced. They were God-ordained troublemakers. They would soon make history.

As the girls blossomed into women, their confidence grew. They must have started talking among themselves about the problems with patriarchy, finally asking the most forbidden questions: “Why don’t the women have any privileges around here? Why can’t women own land? Why can’t we get an inheritance when we cross the Jordan?”

The Bible tells us that after Zelophehad’s death, his daughters went to Moses and made a daring proposal: “‘Why should the name of our father be withdrawn from among his family because he had no son? Give us a possession among our father’s brothers'” (Num. 27:4, NASB).

We can’t even begin to imagine how bold and audacious this request was. Women in Israel did not ask for rights. Yet the daughters of Zelophehad risked their reputations by approaching the leader of their nation and asking for something revolutionary.

What is most remarkable is that Moses took their request seriously and sought God about it. Most church leaders who restrict women’s involvement in ministry don’t pray about this issue at all. They simply consult their denominational policies and traditions and decree, “No women in the pulpit. Women can’t teach men. Women can’t lead anything.” Then they reinstate man-made rules that quench the Holy Spirit.

But Moses asked God, and God had a surprising reply: “‘The daughters of Zelophehad are right in their statements. You shall surely give them a hereditary possession among their father’s brothers, and you shall transfer the inheritance of their father to them'” (Num. 27:7).

In that moment, God contradicted centuries of prejudice and wrong-headed tradition. He made it clear that in His kingdom, women are not afterthoughts or appendages. They have equal value with men and full rights to His benefits.

A Daughter’s Double Portion Hidden in another Old Testament book is the story of Achsah, the daughter of Caleb (see Josh. 15:16-19). Like Zelophehad’s daughters, this daring young woman also claimed territory in the land of Canaan.

Can you imagine what it would have been like to grow up in the household of Caleb, one of Israel’s champions of faith? The giants who ruled Canaan did not intimidate this man—and I suspect he imparted that same fearlessness to this young girl.

The Bible tells us that when Caleb inherited his territory in the land of Judah, his daughter approached him with a bold proposal: She asked him for land in a day when women were not considered worthy of owning anything.

But the story does not stop there. Achsah said to her father: “‘Give me a blessing; since you have given me the land of the Negev, give me also springs of water'” (v. 19). Caleb, not one to deny his little girl anything, gave her “the upper and the lower springs.”

Achsah had spunk. She wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. Not only did she ask for land, she asked for more! She pressed forward until she got the water necessary to turn the dry desert into a garden.

Why is this obscure passage included in the Scriptures? I believe the Holy Spirit has woven a subtle theme throughout the Bible, pointing to the fact that redeemed women who have been set free from the curse of sin will inherit the kingdom. They will not live on the sidelines while men partake of heaven’s blessings. They will not be penalized from full participation in the church simply because of gender.

Today, God is calling women of faith to arise and claim land for Him. He is looking for women who have a giant-killing mentality. Dare I say it? He is looking for women with an apostolic spirit—women whose burden for souls weighs so heavy that they cannot rest until the whole earth has been filled with His glory.

God wants women who are not content to simply work in the nursery and lead women’s luncheons. (Nothing against the nursery, but the church has lost so much of its power by limiting women’s gifts to domestic functions.) It is time for women to shake loose from the trappings of religious culture and step into their full potential.

Women can still work in the nursery or the kitchen (as can men, since all of us are called to be servants). But they can also plant churches, disciple new believers, counsel the addicted, heal the sick, perform miracles, cast out devils, own and run successful businesses, feed the poor, hold political office and transform nations for Christ. There is so much territory to be claimed.

Perhaps you did not know you could ask for nations. Perhaps you did not realize that God has a role for you to play in the evangelization of the world. As you get to know the Father more intimately, you will come to understand that He is eager to give you more when you are willing to ask for it.

A Beautiful Company of Women There is yet a third Old Testament reference to daughters who claimed their inheritance. They are the daughters of Job—Jemimah, Keziah and Keren-happuch—who are described as the most beautiful women in the land (see Job 42:12-15).

Job must have had special affection for these girls. After all, he had lost all 10 of his original children years earlier when a storm destroyed his house. When God restored Job’s fortunes, and gave him double for all that had been taken from him, Job had 10 more children. It is interesting to note that the Bible says Job had seven sons and three daughters—and then it provides the names of the girls only.

Then Job 42:15 says: “In all the land no women were found so fair as Job’s daughters; and their father gave them inheritance among their brothers.”

Why are only the daughters’ names mentioned? Why is there a reference to the girls’ beauty? And why are we told that they were given an inheritance?

Again, the Holy Spirit is showing us God’s heart for women. Although men have abused, marginalized and oppressed women—even in the church—God will have the last word on this subject. This passage in Job, one of the oldest books of the Bible, offers a glimpse into the last days. It signifies a day when women who are empowered by the Holy Spirit will be fully restored to their place of spiritual authority.

Like Job, human beings were stripped of their dignity and spiritual power because of sin. But when Jesus Christ purchased redemption at Calvary, His blood not only paid the full price for our transgressions, it also broke the power of shame, guilt and oppression off of women. It made them beautiful again, and restored to them the right to their spiritual inheritance.

Do you know that the Lord sees you as beautiful? Perhaps your self-image has been marred by life’s disappointments and tragedies.

Many women struggle to find their identity in Christ because of sexual molestation, domestic abuse or the shame of abortion or fornication. Don’t let the mistakes of the past or the wounds inflicted by people stop you from gaining your inheritance. God calls you beautiful. He can take your filthy rags and give you a new wardrobe—one of righteousness and purity. Regardless of the pain of your past, He has a glorious future planned for you.

Claim Your Portion God has placed a passion in my heart to see women take their full place in the church and society. Perhaps that’s because I have four daughters of my own.

As soon as my first daughter, Margaret, was born 20 years ago, I realized that girls are special. So my wife and I kept having more. Meredith was born in 1987. Gloria arrived two years later. Charlotte came along in 1992. Four girls in seven years!

I tell people that I have been drowning in a sea of estrogen since the day we brought that first baby girl into our home. But I have no regrets. I know that the Father does not look at girls as inferior.

He did not make them to serve as appendages to men. He created women with unique callings that must be released in full potential.

Most of my income today is being spent on my daughters’ college education, and more probably will be spent on their weddings. I could never deny my daughters any good gift. How much more is the Father willing to lavish His blessings, spiritual gifts and empowering grace on His girls?

Although you may have experienced gender prejudice, this tragic attitude does not reflect the Father’s heart for you. He longs to give you the kingdom.

Read a companion devotional.