Misc. 108: The Gullible Mind and the Gulfstream Jet !

“I understand the laws that govern insurance, stocks and bonds and all that is involved with Wall Street,” he once said, looking directly into the camera. “God has called me… as a financial deliverer.”

Crucially, he always refers to the money as a “seed” – a $273 seed, a $333 seed, a “turnaround” seed, depending on the broadcast. If viewers “plant” one, the amount will come back to them, multiplied, he says. It is an investment in their faith and their future.

Maybe he should invest the sum as a “seed”?

He instantly recalled the specific number that Coontz had repeated again and again: $273. It was a figure the preacher often used. “God gave me the single greatest miracle of my lifetime in one day, and the numbers two, seven and three were involved,” he once said. It is also – perhaps not coincidentally – the number of Coontz’s $1.38m condo in South Carolina, paid for by his church, Rockwealth, according to local TV channel WSOC-TV.

He sent off two cheques: one for $273 and another for $333, as requested. Then he waited for his miracle.

Larry has now come to realise there was no foundation to Coontz’s promises that donated cash would multiply, but at the time the stirring speeches gave him hope. He did not see any other way out.

And if the seeds never flourish? Some are told their faith is not strong enough, or they have hidden sin. In Larry’s case, he often interpreted small pieces of good fortune – a gift of groceries from a neighbour, or the promise of a few extra hours of work for his wife, Darcy – as evidence of fruition.

He estimates he gave about $20,000 to these operators over the years. A little here, a little there. A few years ago, he started tallying it all up. The list is like a who’s who of all the established players, including those who have made headlines for their lavish lifestyles – those such as Kenneth Copeland and Creflo Dollar, who have asked followers to fund their private jets.

Larry’s own life could not stand in greater contrast. “Life is not easy but we are blessed,” says Larry, in a rasping, lived-in voice. “We have food in the refrigerator, we have two cats that love us. My wife’s got part-time work in a store and I get disability benefits.”

Larry’s painting and remodelling business fell apart when scoliosis started twisting his spine about eight years ago – roughly the same time he scrapped his van and car and made his donation to Todd Coontz. He and Darcy still lived then in his home state, California, and employed former drug users as workers. He was an ex-addict himself, and his Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous sessions had strengthened his religious beliefs.

After deciding to “follow Christ’s path”, he became an avid viewer of religious channels and specifically “praisathons” – fundraising events with multiple guest speakers. He became, in his words, “hypnotised” by the hosts. He was not just a passive spectator, he felt like he knew them.

Many of these pastors also ran prayer lines – where callers would speak one-on-one with an operator and they would pray together. If a request for money followed, Larry was happy to contribute – even if he did not have much to give. He was under the impression that the money was going to worthy projects at home and abroad, and he hoped that if he were ever in a desperate position, he would be helped too.

His daughter’s health, which had long been poor, had become critical. Larry had promised to help her financially, but his “seeds” had not flourished. He wrote a heart-wrenching, five-page letter to several ministries he had contributed to over the years, pleading for help.

“We had been faithful to these ministries. They called us partners, friends, family,” he explains today. “We thought they’d be there for us.”

In the letter, he detailed how his daughter’s health insurance would not cover the extensive and costly treatment she needed. One doctor had suggested they waited for her organs to fail, as only then would he be able to intervene.

“As a father, I am presently helpless,” he wrote. “Would you please consider sponsorship to save our daughter’s life?”

The replies drifted in. Some were instant email responses, others came through the post after prompting. All were rejections. “They said things like, ‘Our ministry mandate prevents us from helping you,'” he recalls. He remembers the reaction of one specific office manager, from a ministry that had publicised its funding of medical treatments in the US: “In a haughty voice, she took a deep breath and said: ‘You know we get six or seven of these calls a week and if we help you, we are going to have to help everyone.'”

.* much of this material on Joel Osteen is taken (mostly verbatim) from an article by Graig Graziosi written on July 22, 2021