The Changing Role of Churches and Religion

The Rev. Peg Chemberlin, president of the National Council of Churches, and Dr. Joel C. Hunter join Minnesota Public Radio's "Midmorning" to talk about how the future of religion will be affected by new churches and technology. Dr. Hunter joins the program 28 minutes in.

The Pastor's Dilemma

Sojourners Magazine, 12/1/2009, By Dr. Joel C. Hunter

Recently, my church's board of elders and I were discussing people who had left our fellowship because of their perceptions of my "political activities." As I handed them an outline of what I believe the Bible says about various social issues (creation care, immigration, peacemaking, poverty, etc.), I said, "We know this is not about politics. This is about expressing the Christian witness in the public square as a part of what it means to be a mature Christian." To their credit and my encouragement, they said, in essence, "We agree. And we will take the lead, but it can't be political or partisan."

Most of us went into ministry because we wanted to be both voices and vessels of God's love to others through Jesus Christ. But there is congregational pushback when we tie voices and vessels to votes. And that link is not only a danger, but a necessity to make "witnessing" distinct from "politicking."

For pastors to be involved in addressing the social issues of the day in a prophetic and compassionate way, we must make three decisions:

1. We must decide we will have courage. Many of our congregation members will misunderstand both our motivations and the need to talk of such things. Jesus didn't do us any great favors when he commanded us to "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, and unto God what is Gods" (Matthew 22:21). We'd love to only address the second part because the first part implies complicity with unpopular government. To be perfectly honest, such activity could cost some of us our jobs. But if our fear diminishes the fullness of the gospel's love and concern, if others go on suffering so that we can be more secure, what kind of ministry do we have?

2. We must decide that we will make our voice on social issues one that directly links the Bible and the life of Christ to the issue. Individual Christian citizens are free to have personal opinions; pastors are not. Pastors are always seen as spiritual leaders, so not only must we be informed about what will help the most and cause the fewest unintended negative consequences, but we must be clear that what we are doing is an expression of the gospel.

3. We must not be distracted by personal attacks, personal links, or the temptation to defend ourselves. If the cross teaches us anything, it teaches us sacrifice: "He saved others; he cannot save himself" (Matthew 27:42). Love costs. If you are for creation care, you will be linked to people with whom you would vehemently disagree. If in your judgment one side of an issue is more in line with what Jesus would do, then you will be accused of being "in the tank" for whatever politician takes that side and you will be accused of being against the politicians who don't. We have only one Person that we need to consider; One from whom we long to hear, "Well done."

The pastor's dilemma starts with this question: How can we address the public-square issues as a small part of what we do, and keep it about loving people instead of about "taking a stand"?

The questions many pastors are tempted to ask themselves include, "Is it really necessary that I address our country's responsibility for the needy? And if I do speak out for the vulnerable in risky ways, is my next conversation with the public going to begin with the question, '"Do you want fries with that?"

-Dr. Joel C. Hunter is senior pastor of Northland- A Church Distributed in Orlando, Florida.

Washington Post - 'Divine Impulses' Series

Dr. Hunter talks with On Faith's Sally Quinn about the difference between evangelicals and fundamentalists and what is "base" about the religious right, and about his spiritual advice to President Obama.

The Art of Cyber Church

Butternut Squash Soup is calling, but Joel Hunter stands glued to CNN in his living room in rainy Orlando.

Lunch can wait another minute, because details about President Barack Obama's meeting with a foreign leader might be coming. When the news anchor switches topics, Hunter, satisfied, quickly joins his wife, Becky, at their glass dinner table.

One of Hunter's megachurch staffers gleefully picks on his boss, recalling when Hunter sat next to boxing legend Muhammad Ali at Obama's inauguration: "You should've given him a little nudge on the shoulder, just to say you've been in a fight with Ali." "Oh yeah," Hunter replies sarcastically. "I can see the headlines now: PASTOR PUNCHES PARKINSON'S PATIENT."

Politics and media are strong siren calls, and Hunter doesn't ignore either's pleas. His national profile emerged after he resigned from the Christian Coalition in 2006, saying the organization was unwilling to expand its mission beyond fighting abortion and same-sex marriage. During the 2008 presidential election cycle, Hunter prayed at the Democratic National Convention last summer and with the President on Election Day.

Journalists often looked to Hunter during election season as the de facto voice of moderate evangelicals. But the Orlando-based pastor who helped Northland, A Church Distributed grow from 200 to 12,000 people in 20 years has established himself as one of the country's most innovative church planters.

"Politics is one venue in which the Lord can work, but his plan A has always been the local congregation," Hunter says. "My calling is to be part of that frontline ministry."

A Church Distributed

At first glance, 61-year-old Hunter appears closer to retirement than to the Blackberry addict he is. Wearing a black suit, white shirt, and blue tie with his white hair carefully combed to one side, he names Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as his favorite book and classical music as his choice of tunes. "I've never really been a hip-hop kind of guy," he says with a laugh as he pretends to twist a baseball cap on sideways.

Most church planters value the vitality of youth, but Hunter sees his age as an asset. When members of his congregation become angry that he prays with a Democratic President or experiments with worship on an iPhone, he shrugs it off.

"It's like being a grandfather when your grandkids are throwing a temper tantrum. You say, 'They're having a bad day,'" he says. "Grandfathers have the benefit of having perspective without having the necessity of control."

Even with his grandfatherly perspective, Hunter quickly led Northland to use the Internet to plant a local church far beyond Orlando. Mark Pinsky, former religion reporter for The Orlando Sentinel, has written about Hunter for several years and describes him as a quintessential early adopter of technology—with a slight difference.

"There's a tendency for some in the church world to fall in love with technology as a magic bullet," Pinsky says. "If Joel didn't have a message and a presentation, all the bells and whistles in the world wouldn't make him what he is today."

Hunter began pastoral ministry at a Methodist church in Indiana after receiving his master of divinity from Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis. He and his wife then moved in 1985 to Orlando to lead Northland's 200 congregants.

Like many U.S. churches, Northland saw a surge in attendance after September 11, 2001. Finding the church feeling cramped in a roller-skating rink turned worship area, employees dragged fiber-optic cables across a field to create a second site at a high school down the road. This paved the way for an eventual multi-site approach; Northland now has three other sites in the Orlando area.

In August 2007, when Northland opened its main campus in Longwood, a $43 million, 3,100-seat building, church leaders kept the Internet in mind. Back in the control room in Orlando, five people monitor a room full of computers connected to hundreds of cables that send a live feed that makes the multi-site service possible. Pink, purple, and blue lights beam onto the Orlando stage as a 12-piece band leads the congregation—along with three other congregations and about two thousand individuals in front of their home computers—in "Blessed Be Your Name."

"Planting churches in the Western mentality is tremendously expensive and has a high failure rate," Hunter says. "Since we thought physical church plants would be an ineffective approach to church multiplication, we went with online resources that are much more efficient and less costly."

According to Leadership Network's book Multi-Site Church Roadtrip, in 2008 about 37 percent of megachurches used the multi-site approach, in which one congregation would videotape or stream the sermon to the screens of other congregations. The network's data show that on a typical Sunday in 2009, nearly 10 percent of Protestant worshipers in the United States attend a multi-site church.

Scott McConnell, associate director of Lifeway Research and author of Multi-Site Churches, says that Northland takes the multi-site approach to a new level.

"They really have it down to the second, so that they're showing a mouth at another site singing the same song," McConnell says. (During services, the Longwood site streams live video from the other sites to remind them that they are worshiping together.) "What they've been able to accomplish through technology is a small idea of what the church worshiping around the world looks like. You catch this glimpse that the church is bigger than my local church."

Hunter says this approach has allowed Northland to worship with believers around the world. In recent years, Northland has held concurrent services with churches in Namibia, Ukraine, and Egypt, and is planning to hold another one with an Argentine church later this year. Hunter says that after 9/11, the dual service held in Egypt was particularly powerful.

"The pastor came on, spoke to us as one of our own pastors, and said, 'I know the feelings you have. Don't return evil for evil,' " Hunter says. "That was an example in which the technology made all the difference in the relationships."

Cons and Pros

Not everyone embraces a multi-site approach.

Bob Hyatt, head pastor of the Evergreen Community in Portland, a nondenominational church that meets at local pubs, is one who has resisted. He insists that while he's not a Luddite (he spent eight hours in line for an iPhone—twice), he believes multi-site churches have a tendency to cultivate celebrity-driven church cultures.

"Leaders start saying, 'Bring me in, and I will turn this around [with video feeds],' and I don't see that model as good ecclesiology," Hyatt says.

In addition, since people rely on the main pastor with a multi-site approach, it discourages more people from testing their teaching gifts, Hyatt believes. "Video venues have the unintended consequences of killing teaching and the gift of preaching."

Back on stage, a pastor begins listing the other Orlando-area sites as images of the congregations appear live on the screens. He also introduces individual online viewers: "We welcome Buck in Fairfax, Virginia, Chuck in Kuwait, Brett in Boise, Idaho … would you please welcome these folks who have gathered with us from all over?"There's no question, though, that streaming a service changes things. Behind the scenes at one Sunday morning service, the worship band comes to the back room during Hunter's sermon to chat about a recent YouTube clip and grab some homemade grits and waffles. A church employee with thick-rimmed glasses sits on one of the couches quietly watching the screen of his Mac computer. He's a "Web minister," someone the church has appointed to chat with people who have logged on to its website to watch the live-streaming service.

Douglas Groothuis, Denver Seminary philosophy professor and author of the 1997 book The Soul in Cyberspace, was warning about the downsides of combining faith with the Internet long before YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter.

"You can create a crafted, constructed identity online," he says. "It's not the you, who's like me, who's overweight. You can hide those problems when they should be brought to God and other Christians."

But Northland is not interested in replacing face-to-face connections with virtual ones. With Web streaming and a new online evangelism effort, it hopes to create house churches across the globe. For example, if the church sees two people from Chicago worshiping online, they try to connect the two and give them information on how to start a house church together.

Northland staff members also believe a streaming service can reach the people who simply will not step inside a church. Northland reaches about 2,000 participants online.

"Our experience has been that people feel safer being able to talk from their own home than they are when they go on someone else's turf," Hunter says. "We have seen an increase in transparency when you add that safety layer."

Online Evangelism

Hunter's church recently began to combine its online worship with a ministry in which its members become online missionaries for Global Media Outreach, the Orlando-based Internet ministry of Campus Crusade for Christ International.

"Campus Crusade has not been called to be a local church," says director of Global Media Outreach Allan Beeber. "Northland members are not only sharing their faith, they are also going to be helping the person find a church or form a local church wherever they live or work."

Shane Hipps, pastor of a Mennonite church in Phoenix and author of Flickering Pixels: How Technology Shapes Your Faith, wonders whether evangelism should ever take place online.

"The Internet is primarily experienced through cognitive interaction. Online evangelism reinforces that Christianity is information that you need, not a way that a community lives in the world," Hipps says. "The capacity to hold someone's hand, feed the poor, and care for the sick requires a body."

Other observers, though, think there may be no other way to reach some people. "You hear a lot about how people are so addicted to their computers, so you hear church leaders say, 'We have to bring church to their computers; our church has to be MTV on crack in order to reach them,' " says Scott McClellan, editor of Collide, a magazine for church leaders who use media and technology. "The Northland model seems to reflect a sense of connecting people to a community but not leaving them in a virtual scenario."

In any event, Hunter plans to use technology to dramatically expand the number of people worshiping. In May, Hunter told his congregants that Northland could create a million small groups or house churches worldwide by 2020.

To some extent, churches like Northland are updating the apostle Paul's multi-location ministry, says Fuller Theological Seminary theology and culture professor Craig Detweiler.

"Paul's itinerant preaching kept him connected to the congregation in the same way that Web casting allows a pastor like Joel Hunter to send a 'letter' to his congregations," Detweiler says. "The key to their success, though, will be the local pastors who continue to walk with the congregations watching the broadcast."

Hunter recognizes the limits of the Internet. But he wants to use it in a way that gets people past it.

"When the telephone was first invented, everyone talked about how it was the end of real intimacy, but people think about the person they're talking to on the other line," he says. "The main goal here is that the successful use of technology makes the technology disappear so all you're focusing on is the person."

The Church at the Core

Hunter points to two events in his young life that would end up driving his faith and ministry: the assassination of Mark Luther King Jr., and a word from a childhood pastor.

When Hunter was growing up in central Ohio, his grandmother introduced him to a church whose pastor said, "Nothing's ever going to come right in the world until you take care of the sin in your own heart." That line would never quite leave him, even in the political and cultural tumult of the 1960s.

Like many of his college-age peers at Ohio University, Hunter demonstrated during the civil rights movement, believing that if the country had the right political structure, racial injustice would cease.

"When Martin Luther King Jr. was shot, all my dreams just came crashing down on me, and that voice kept coming back into my head," he said. "So I went into a little generic chapel and knelt down and gave my life to the Lord as best I could."

While Hunter keeps his foot in the door of American politics, he believes he is first and foremost a local church pastor.

"Politics shapes social policy in ways that affect people in an exterior way," Hunter says. "The church is there during the most important times of your life: when you get married, when you have kids, when you die. We have this holy ground that we've been invited into during the deepest part of people's lives."

CNN: Pastor Hunter Discusses President Obama's First 100 Days

Orlando Sentinel Profile on Dr. Joel C. Hunter

The Pastor of a Longwood Church Speaks for a New Style of Evangelicals

By Jay Hamburg Sentinel Staff Writer April 12, 2009

He doesn't thunder from the pulpit in righteous rage. He'd rather relay stories that make a moral point.

He has no catchphrases, fussy handlers or televised religious talk shows.

What the soft-spoken Rev. Joel Hunter of Longwood does have is an evangelical church of 12,000, a talent for building diverse coalitions and a prominent spiritual advisory role in the administration of President Barack Obama, a Democrat.

Not bad for a registered Republican who came to Central Florida in 1985 to take charge of a small flock that grew into one of the region's largest megachurches.

As Hunter delivers his three Easter sermons today at Northland, a Church Distributed, he holds a place in the national spotlight unmatched by any other faith leader in Central Florida.

But it wasn't something that seemed destined from the start.

The man who prayed with Obama on Inauguration Day lost his first preaching job when a United Methodist church in Indiana faced a crucial decision nearly 40 years ago: Should they buy new carpet or keep their youth minister, the motorcycle-riding evangelical called Pastor Joel?

New carpet won by a landslide.

"I wasn't that great a shakes," Hunter said.

But in the decades that followed, the hard-working pastor proved to be a formidable leader.

He has become a much-sought-after spokesman for a new brand of evangelicals who hope to tone down the rhetoric of culture wars while engaging in good works. Along the way, the 60-year-old pastor has sought alliances with Catholics, Jews and Muslims and irritated some traditional evangelicals, who worry that too much emphasis on social issues would nudge the Gospels to the sidelines.

While studying government and history at Ohio University, Hunter felt inspired by the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., whose sermons and civil-rights marches were changing the nation.

"He was my idol," Hunter said.

When King was killed in 1968, it left the 19-year-old reeling. Desperate for answers, he went into a campus chapel, knelt in prayer and gave his life to Christ. Upon rising, he had found his calling as a minister.

Four decades later, when the nation's first black president asked Hunter to join the White House's Advisory Council on Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships, Hunter felt a particular pride.

The invitation to the Oval Office was thrilling, yet Hunter said he doesn't have time to be distracted by the honor. He has a big flock to tend and a vow to keep his $42 million state-of-the-art church the kind of place where his mother would have felt comfortable.

An alcoholic, she had great pride in her son, the captain of the high-school football team and president of the senior class. He in turn tried to save her by pouring out her liquor and lecturing her about her drinking. His father, a factory worker, had died of cancer when Hunter was 4.

It made for a complicated life.

His grandparents, coaches and neighbors in the small northern Ohio town of Shelby made sure that Hunter had a stable place to turn when times got rough. But in the 1950s, treatment options for alcoholism were few, and nobody knew how to help his mom. She died in 1971, while Hunter was in seminary training.

"My mother had a beautiful singing voice," Hunter recalled. "Soft and resonant like Nat King Cole's. She could have been a gift to a church. The church didn't reach out to her. But Northland would. My mother would have loved Northland."

Those memories still shape his ministry.

"It's almost like redeeming that [past]," Hunter said. "I'm sensitive to those people who aren't the 'religious type,' but who have incredible God-given gifts and could be a gift to a church."

Tried to broaden agendas

In 2006, the Christian Coalition - the conservative lobby founded by Pat Robertson - invited Hunter to take the reins.

Hunter hoped to expand the group's agenda beyond fighting abortion and gay marriage. His idea was to embrace environmentalism as an act of caring for God's creation and to redefine "pro-life" to include poverty and hunger.

But it turned out to be a bad fit, and Hunter withdrew before actually taking office.

Two years later, the pastor was giving the closing benediction at the Democratic convention in Denver. He concluded his prayer in an innovative way, asking spectators to speak the blessing they would use in their own faith traditions.

D. Michael Lindsay, author of a study of evangelicals called "Faith in the Halls of Power," said the benediction was a case where a sincere effort to include many views led to "intentional ambiguity."

The sociologist at Rice University credits Hunter with "great pastoral gifts" and a style that resonates with many who want to look past endless brawls over religious hot-button issues.

"It seems he has been scratching an itch that others hadn't noticed," Lindsay said.

But some evangelicals did notice his unorthodox, all-inclusive prayer.

Bob Parker, pastor of First Baptist Church Markham Woods in Lake Mary, said Hunter missed a chance to tell the Democratic convention that "Christ is the only savior."

Parker, who headed the Moral Majority in Kentucky before coming to Central Florida, said he worries about attempts to broaden the agenda of evangelicals.

"Jesus said the way is narrow," Parker said.

At boundary of politics

Although Hunter is far from invisible in Central Florida, he has kept his distance from local elections.

"I don't think he aspires to [political prominence]," said Aubrey Jewett, associate professor of political science at University of Central Florida.

Still, Jewett notes the pastor is currently walking along the edges of political territory. "You don't accept the position of a national office unless you have an idea of influencing policy on a broader basis," he said.

Hunter said he has no plans to pursue politics but looks forward to working with Catholic, Jewish and Muslim leaders on a national level to address social ills, as he has done locally.

Imam Muhammad Musri, president of the Islamic Society of Central Florida, speaks glowingly of Hunter and his wife. The imam sees little difference between the relatively unknown pastor who reached out to him about 15 years ago and the man who recently made the front page of The New York Times.

"I've seen him increase in humbleness and generosity," Musri said. "Even after September 11, when it wasn't very popular to talk to Muslims, he stood by us and spoke kindly about us from the pulpit."

Dealing with critics

Hunter rarely seems vexed by critics, but he did vent some frustration at both liberal and conservative commentators "who profit on polarization."

Speaking at an interfaith forum on torture a few months ago in Orlando, Hunter was troubled about the long-term effects of people listening to the "cottage industry of hostility" and "people who are literally paid to make people angry. People who are literally paid to create enemies, so we can feel good about ourselves."

He added: "I don't know how much the rest of the religious leaders up here have to face this, but I tell you, I get nasty, nasty, letters every time I stand up for the poor, the immigrant, the torture victims - all these compassion issues - from my own people."

Generally, though, the criticisms sting his family more.

Becky Hunter gets irked by blogs that question the Christian character of the man she knew she would marry the first time she saw him in church in 1970. One theme that troubles her: Obama uses her husband to score points with conservatives.

Both Hunters warmly praise Obama for his intellect and personality. But to those who fear the liberal and charismatic president will transform the church leader from Longwood, the pastor's wife notes firmly: "What makes you think that if Joel Hunter and Barack Obama were in a room that Joel Hunter would be the one to change his mind?"

Copyright © 2009, Orlando Sentinel

Find this article at: http://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/local/orl-asecbigpastor12041209apr12,0,3873674.story

Joel C. Hunter on CNN's Campbell Brown: No Bias, No Bull (Roland Martin Guest Host)

Dr. Hunter and Roland discuss what it means to be a new kind of conservative.

Without a Pastor of His Own, Obama Turns to Five

From The New York Times, By LAURIE GOODSTEINPresident Obama has been without a pastor or a home church ever since he cut his ties to the Rev. Jeremiah A. Wright Jr. in the heat of the presidential campaign. But he has quietly cultivated a handful of evangelical pastors for private prayer sessions on the telephone and for discussions on the role of religion in politics.

All are men, two of them white and three black - including the Rev. Otis Moss Jr., a graying lion of the civil rights movement. Two, the entrepreneurial dynamos Bishop T. D. Jakes and the Rev. Kirbyjon H. Caldwell, also served as occasional spiritual advisers to President George W. Bush. Another, the Rev. Jim Wallis, leans left on some issues, like military intervention and poverty programs, but opposes abortion.

None of these pastors are affiliated with the religious right, though several are quite conservative theologically. One of them, the Rev. Joel C. Hunter, the pastor of a conservative megachurch in Florida, was branded a turncoat by some leaders of the Christian right when he began to speak out on the need to stop global warming.

But as a group they can hardly be characterized as part of the religious left either. Most, like Mr. Wallis, do not take traditionally liberal positions on abortion or homosexuality. What most say they share with the president is the conviction that faith is the foundation in the fight against economic inequality and social injustice.

"These are all centrist, social justice guys," said the Rev. Eugene F. Rivers, a politically active pastor of Azusa Community Church in Boston, who knows all of them but is not part of the president's prayer caucus. "Obama genuinely comes out of the social justice wing of the church. That's real. The community organizing stuff is real."

The pastors say Mr. Obama appears to rely on his faith for intellectual and spiritual succor.

"While he may not put ‘Honk if You Love Jesus' bumper stickers on the back of his car, he is the kind of guy who practices what he preaches," said Mr. Caldwell, the senior pastor of Windsor Village United Methodist Church in Houston. "He has a desire to keep in touch with folk outside the Beltway, and to stay in touch with God. He seems to see those as necessary conditions for maintaining his internal compass."

Bishop Jakes said he had been tapped for several prayer phone calls - the most recent being when Mr. Obama's grandmother died in November, two days before the election. "You take turns praying," said Bishop Jakes, who like the other ministers did not want to divulge details of the calls. "It's really more about contacting God than each other."

Mr. Hunter said of the phone calls: "The times I have prayed with him, he's always initiated it."

The Obama administration has reached out to hundreds of religious leaders across the country to mobilize support and to seek advice on policy. These five pastors, however, have been brought into a more intimate inner circle. Their names were gleaned from interviews with people who know the president and religious leaders who work in Washington. Their role could change if Mr. Obama joins a church in Washington, but that could take some time because of the logistical challenges in finding a church that can accommodate the kind of crowd the Obamas would attract.

The White House refused to comment for this article.

The pastor in the circle who has known Mr. Obama the longest is Mr. Wallis, president and chief executive of Sojourners, a liberal magazine and movement based in Washington. In contrast to the other four, his contact with the president has been focused more on policy than prayer. Mr. Wallis has recently joined conservatives in pressing the president's office of faith-based initiatives to continue to allow government financing for religious social service groups that hire only employees of their own faith.

Mr. Wallis said he got to know Mr. Obama in the late 1990s when they participated in a traveling seminar that took bus trips to community programs across the country. Mr. Wallis said they "hit it off" because they were both Christians serious about their faith, fathers of young children the same age and believers in "transcending left and right" to find solutions to social problems.

"He and I were what we called back then ‘progressive Christians,' as opposed to the dominant religious-right era we were in then," Mr. Wallis said. "We didn't think Jesus' top priorities would be capital gains tax cuts and supporting the next war."

Presidents through the ages have leaned on pastors for spiritual support, policy advice and political cover. The Rev. Billy Graham was a counselor to at least five (Dwight D. Eisenhower, Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard M. Nixon, Ronald Reagan and George Bush), and tapes from the Nixon White House reveal that their talks veered beyond religion to political and social topics that later proved regretful.

Some presidents, like Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton, regularly attended a local church. George W. Bush never joined a local church, but courted ministers on the religious right, which gained him favor with a major constituency for most of his two terms.

Pinning down Mr. Obama's theological leanings is not easy, the ministers said in interviews. They said he is well read in the Bible, but has not articulated views consistent with the racially inflected interpretation of his former pastor, Mr. Wright.

Mr. Moss, who once worked alongside the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and who only recently retired from his pulpit at Olivet Institutional Baptist Church in Cleveland, said of the president, "I would simply say that he is a person of great faith, and I think that faith has sustained him."

Mr. Moss's son is the Rev. Otis Moss III, who succeeded Mr. Wright as pastor of Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago, Mr. Obama's former church. Mr. Wright and the president are no longer in contact, said several people who know both men.

Bishop Jakes said he sought out Mr. Obama in Chicago because of their common interest in Kenya and because he was impressed with the speech Mr. Obama delivered at the Democratic National Convention in 2004.

Bishop Jakes is himself a nationally known preaching powerhouse who fills sports stadiums and draws 30,000 worshipers to his church in Dallas, the Potter's House. He also produces movies, writes books and runs antipoverty programs in Dallas and Kenya, where Mr. Obama has ties through his Kenyan father.

Three of the ministers said their introduction to the president was through Joshua DuBois, who led religious outreach for the Obama presidential campaign and now heads the White House Office of Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships. Mr. DuBois, who declined to comment, is himself a Pentecostal pastor.

Mr. Hunter, who leads a church in Longwood, Fla., said he was approached by Mr. DuBois in 2007 - a few months after he left his new post as head of the Christian Coalition, the conservative advocacy group, because the board did not want to enlarge its agenda to include environmental issues like global warming.

He has since written a book, "A New Kind of Conservative: Cooperation Without Compromise," and gave an invocation at the Democratic National Convention in Denver last year.

Bishop Jakes, Mr. Wallis and Mr. Hunter said they were political independents. Mr. Moss and Mr. Caldwell publicly endorsed Mr. Obama, and Mr. Caldwell donated money to his campaign.

On the morning of the inauguration, Bishop Jakes delivered the sermon at a private service at St. John's Episcopal Church. He likened Mr. Obama to the boys in the Book of Daniel who are thrown into a fiery furnace that is seven times hotter than it should be - and survive. "God is with you in the furnace," Bishop Jakes preached to Mr. Obama.

Find this article at: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/15/us/politics/15pastor.html?hp

Faith in Action

From Central Florida Lifestyle Publications, By Michele G. Hudson Longwood pastor Joel C. Hunter leads a global ministry that serves our local community.

"Let's go out and change the world for good." These passionate words, delivered by Longwood pastor Joel C. Hunter in the closing prayer at the 2008 Democratic National Convention, reflect this evangelical leader's perpetual mission.

As senior pastor at Northland, A Church Distributed headquartered in Longwood, Hunter's reputation for championing compassion issues drew worldwide attention. Then, being invited to pray a blessing over our 44th president in a private, pre- inauguration service in Washington, D.C., sparked further notoriety.

"It was amazing," Hunter says of his time with President Obama and the inauguration events. "There was a buoyancy and optimism- a new era of history-which was very encouraging."

How did President Obama become acquainted with a pastor in Longwood? Hunter says his leadership in organizations like The World Evangelical Alliance, The National Association of Evangelicals, along with shepherding an innovative church like Northland, "put him on the radar screen" and positioned him "as a religious leader who may be good to access."

In 1985, Hunter moved from a Methodist church in Indiana with his wife, Becky, and their three sons to Central Florida. Under his leadership, Northland grew from a congregation of 200 to more than 12,000, embodying the "Church Distributed" philosophy. Today, worshippers participate in interactive services each weekend from five sites throughout Central Florida, as well as hundreds of virtual sites around the globe.

Named one of America's 50 Most Influential Churches by Church Growth Today, Hunter speaks humbly of the church's success: "We have never tried to grow ... just tried to love and serve people, and follow God. You can get surprised along the way."

Northland's state-of-the art 160,000-square-foot facilities at their Dog Track Road location (which opened in August 2007) is a hub for more than just worship services. In their new sanctuary, they hosted several Nutcracker ballet performances, which drew a wide audience. "We want to be a facility that offers experiences in the arts as a service to the community," says Hunter. In addition to numerous Christian music acts, the Dallas Symphony Orchestra and country star Wynonna Judd are scheduled for future events.

"There are very few organizations in Seminole County that make as dramatic an impact in the community as Northland," says Longwood City Commissioner Joe Durso. "The way they are organized, the types of community programs and family- based activities are a testament to how powerful a leader Joel is."

Hunter wants Northland to be viewed as a resource to the entire community, "not just to our own constituency," he says. "We want to be seen as servants in the community of Longwood."

According to Durso, "Joel is a humble guy, and he downplays his role and influence a bit. The size of the church is unbelievable, and the amount of outreach they are able to generate is impressive." Regarding his priorities for the future, Hunter says, "We are a church that has three things to do: worship together, provide service all over the community and try to equip people for those tasks."

Miami Herald: "Pastor Forges Common Ground Instead of Fighting Culture Wars"

From the Miami Herald, by Beth Reinhard

Joel Hunter—Christian evangelical, pastor of a Central Florida megachurch and lifelong Republican—gave the benediction at the Democratic National Convention. He prayed with Barack Obama on Election Day, and rode to the inauguration with Oprah.

At the swearing in, he sat in the 12th row, next to boxing icon Muhammad Ali.

"I'm like, 'What am I doing here?''' said Hunter, who recounted his experience before leading his fifth service in three days. "It's surreal.''

The Midwestern transplant who voted twice for George W. Bush and backed religious conservative Mike Huckabee in last year's GOP primary isn't accustomed to overtures from Democratic politicos and the celebrities who come with them. But in keeping with Obama's unprecedented outreach to the religious right during the campaign, the White House plucked Hunter to serve on a 25-member advisory council that also includes a reform rabbi, a former president of the Southern Baptist Convention and the first female bishop in the African Methodist Episcopal Church.

The Council on Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships is an extension of Bush's office directing tax dollars to faith-based social service agencies. The difference: Obama's group will actually weigh in on policy matters.

''President Obama's vision is so much broader. How do you engage churchgoers and people of faith to be part of the solution?'' Hunter asked during a recent interview in his office at Northland Church. "That's something we never talked about in the Bush era. I think we're at a moment in time when people really want to be inspired and re-engaged.''

The mixing of religion and politics has drawn fire from the left and the right. Groups like Americans United for Separation of Church and State accuse Obama of going back on his word by refusing to scrap a Bush policy allowing federally funded religious groups to discriminate against job candidates who don't share their beliefs.

On the other end of the spectrum, some Christian leaders and members of Hunter's church cringe over his relationship with an administration that favors abortion rights and other liberal causes.

''It's important for spiritual leaders to stand firm on matters of principle,'' said Dennis Baxley, executive director of the Christian Coalition of Florida and a former state legislator. "He's basically being used by the administration.''

Hunter, 60, is part of a new breed of evangelicals seeking to forge common ground instead of fighting culture wars. He's focused on what he terms ''compassion issues''—the environment, poverty, immigration reform and peace—instead of on wedge issues like abortion and gay marriage. His broader agenda prompted his resignation as the incoming president of the Christian Coalition of America in 2006, just two months after the socially conservative organization offered him the job.

Still, Hunter says he hasn't ignored abortion altogether. Just last month, he spoke out before Obama was poised to lift a ban on federal aid to international family planning organizations. Knowing that Democratic presidents have used the Jan. 22 anniversary of Roe v. Wade to make sweeping statements on abortion rights, Hunter helped persuade Obama to wait until one day later to soften the blow to the religious right.

''He has always offered honest advice and guidance to the president, and we know we can always count on him for an independent opinion on the issues that confront our nation, today,'' said a statement from Joshua DuBois, Obama's right-hand man on religious affairs.

Hunter and Obama share more than a desire to transcend partisan politics. Just like Obama's campaign used the Internet to cultivate a massive donor and volunteer network, Hunter's nondenominational church embraces technology to reach as many as 12,000 people every week.

Northland claims to be the only church in the country offering interactive services for on-line worshipers in real time. Internet users can tell who else is participating—even in other states and countries—and communicate with them, as well as with an on-line minister. These e-worshipers are even addressed from the pulpit. ''If you're in Starbucks, stand up!'' Hunter implored during a recent service.

Hunter was so intent on emphasizing the church's reach that he changed its name in 1998 from ''a community church'' to "a church distributed.''

''A church ought to be engaging people where they are and getting resources to them, instead of gathering them all in one place,'' he said. "The church is basically a communication device, with a sanctuary attached. Most of our growth will depend on people who never will never step foot in here.''

Here's what they miss in person: a colorful light show, 12-member troupe of singers and musicians belting out Christian rock and ballads, and three giant television screens magnifying the five-foot-six pastor.

What Hunter lacks in height he makes up for in body language. He uses his elbows, knees and back in broad gestures to tell stories from the Bible and impart moral lessons. He squints and purses his lips for comic effect. He resembles George W. Bush—in a black shirt and silvery tie that look like they came from Tony Soprano's closet.

Grabbing the attention of churchgoers prone to fidgeting, Hunter cries, ''Don't freak out!'' when he brings up the subversive, bestselling book, The Shack, which portrays God as a full-figured black woman. Later in the service, after a handful of parishioners accept Jesus Christ as their personal savior for the first time, he declares, "Happy Birthday! You just got born again.''

When Hunter arrived at Northland in 1985, he found about 200 members praying in an old roller skating rink. Two years ago, the church opened a $43 million campus featuring a bookstore, a cafe that serves wraps and paninis, and a 3,100-seat sanctuary that doubles as a concert venue.

Hunter seems to live modestly for the leader of an out-sized church, with a two-door Hyundai and home in middle-class Casselberry. The husband and father of three grown sons often goes by ''Pastor Joel,'' or simply, "Joel.''

Hunter's political and spiritual awakening occurred when he was a student in the late 1960s at Ohio University. He joined student protests and hitchhiked to civil rights battlegrounds like Selma and Birmingham in a neatly trimmed beard and suit. The assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. on April 4, 1968, was what led him to Jesus at the age of 20.

Four decades later, Hunter is widely beloved at his church, even among some parishioners who disagree with his politics and don't care for Obama.

''It's better to have his ear than not,'' said Anders Lindberg, a 47-year-old business development manager who came to pray on a recent evening. "Even if you don't agree with someone, that doesn't mean you ignore them. Jesus didn't just talk to believers.''

Not every churchgoer could abide Hunter's ties to the administration. Weary of Hunter's occasional preaching about global warming and immigration reform, and disgusted by his role at the Democratic National Convention, John Mitchell quit the church after 13 years.

''These things became distractions for me,'' said Mitchell, a 53-year-old lawyer and father of five. "I go to church to worship God.''

Mitchell added that he has a ''tremendous amount of respect'' for his longtime pastor but felt that his appearance at a political party convention amounted to an inappropriate endorsement, even though Hunter never made it official.

''I'm going to continue to pray for him,'' he said. "I hope this experience doesn't change him too much, but I don't think you can help being influenced at those higher levels.''

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