The tragic death of Dr. Myles Munroe shocked The Bahamas. It evoked a national outpouring of grief that was unprecedented. Moreover, ongoing eulogies seem intended to put him on a fast track to sainthood.
We should eulogize him, of course. But let’s resist the temptation to canonize him. This post is in that vein. Indeed, I waited this long to publish it out of respect for his grieving family and friends.
Tragic death of Myles Munroe
Nothing became him in this life quite like leaving it so tragically. Munroe, his wife, and seven others died on November 9. His private jet crashed on approach to Freeport, Grand Bahama. He was 60.
No doubt, Munroe was an inspiring motivational speaker and preacher. But he was never recognized in life as the national icon he has become in death. That’s why the outpouring has been so surprising.
Munroe’s prosperity gospel
His message was an alchemy of traditional Christian dogma and newfangled prosperity gospel. It perverted virtues like love, kindness, and sacrifice to make Christian fellowship little more than pursuing personal wealth. That made his perversion of Christianity as self-righteous as it was self-serving.
But the “success” of his Bahamas Faith Ministries made an even greater mockery of the teachings of Jesus Christ. Because he measured it more by the money he made to enrich himself than by the souls he saved for the glory of God.
That explains Pastor Creflo Dollar being chief among the pharisaic evangelists paying tribute. After all, the eponymous Dollar parlayed his prosperity gospel into obscene wealth.
What would Jesus do: private jets or food drives?
Preachers of the prosperity gospel revel in conspicuous consumption. They show off their expensive cars, private jets, and multi-million dollar homes. But the biblical irony in doing so seems lost on these self-professed men of God. By instructive contrast, faithful preachers show off their food drives, community outreach, and charitable works.
Pope Francis personifies the true calling of men of God. He lives like a shepherd among his flock. Dollar personifies the perversion of this calling. He lives like the master of his plantation (aka megachurch).
For prosperity preachers, money is not the root of evil but salvation. But this is not surprising. After all, Munroe, his wife, and his children were all indoctrinated at Oral Roberts University. Its namesake preached in 1987 that God would kill him if the members of his megachurch did not send him $8 million within three months. According to TIME’s October 27, 1987 issue, they sent him $9 million.
But you don’t have to take my word for his indoctrination. Because here is what Rev. Tommy Lewis, pastor of Bethel Baptist Church in Alabama, said in this respect:
Myles Munroe became one of the proud sons of Oral Roberts. He was one of the heirs of the Oral Roberts legacy.
(Alabama.com, November 10, 2014)
Hell, soliciting donations “to support the legacy of Dr. Myles Munroe” seemed to be the only reason for live streaming his “state-recognized funeral.” And don’t get me started on the king and queen crowns that fronted his and his wife’s caskets. Because this suggests that, even more than the master, he acted like the king of his megachurch.
So the king is dead; long live the king, his son? Even the regalia for his funeral betrays an approach to religion as a business based on the cult of personality. And it would all be laughable if it were not so sacrilege.
That’s why I urge fellow Bahamians to beware of setting an untenable precedent with this veritable canonization of Dr. Myles Munroe.
But I’m the son of a preacher man. So nurture compels me to be more charitable towards the dead than Munroe was towards the living.
Accordingly, I extend my heartfelt condolences to his family. May he rest in peace. And may his memory be a blessing.
Farewell, Myles.