One night in Cox Arena with Mom and Joel Osteen By Nathan Dinsdale 01/08/2008
My family isn’t the religious sort. We’ve attended our share of sermons and pancake breakfasts, but none of it (other than the pancakes) ever took. At best, my siblings and I view organized religion as a mild irritation, like Fox News or canker sores.
Our mother is slightly more spiritually inclined but still infinitely more likely to watch The Biggest Loser than The 700 Club. At least until Joel Osteen came along. For months, she talked about a preacher on TV who’s funny and upbeat and doesn’t try to cram Thessalonians down her throat like he was shoving a tree stump into a wood chipper.
I nodded and smiled, figuring it was just an inevitable stop—like menopause, Viagra or forgetting to wear pants—parents take on the road to senility. Then I began to see Osteen on Larry King Live, CBS Sunday Morning and The New York Times Best Sellers list.
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