Last Sunday, an irritatingly upbeat preacher named Joel Osteen moved his congregation of 30,000 souls into Compaq Center, the former home of the Houston Rockets.

Because Lakewood Church's congregation is twice as big as even the refurbished arena can accommodate at one time, Sabbath observances have to be broken into four services so that the faithful and the merely curious can get their weekly infusion of good vibes.

John Osteen, the 43-year-old preacher's father, started Lakewood Church in a feed store in an undesirable section of Houston in 1959. If he were still living, the elder Osteen would probably wince at his son's decision to rename his nondenominational church-planting effort the suspiciously secular sounding Lakewood International Center.

Still, John Osteen would swell with pride at what his Oral Roberts University dropout of a son has accomplished in the six years he's transformed a grass-roots charismatic ministry into his own image. Joel Osteen is the Tiger Woods/Lance Armstrong of American televangelism, which explains why every other preacher in America hates his smiling guts.

Even in a country awash in mega churches, Lakewood is exceptional. Joel Osteen's flock, including 100 million households worldwide that tune into his televised sermons regularly, pony up an estimated $55 million annually to keep the ministry rolling.

The New York Times reported that the church's weekly offering is stored in a vault on the premises. Even Jesus would have a hell of a time overturning the tables of the money changers at Lakewood were he so inclined.

With a $95 million debt for buying and rehabilitating the Compaq Center to pay off, Osteen doesn't envision carrying the note much longer than the time it takes to earn an associate's degree at a community college. Because many of his parishioners have pledged $2,500 per seat, Osteen can confidently enter into secret negotiations to buy the Houston Astrodome so that his flock can move into a 59,000-seater in a couple of years.

This is the part where I would normally begin ranting about the shallowness of the prosperity gospel and the bastardization of Christianity a community like Lakewood International Center represents, but I won't. The truth is, I like Joel Osteen. Though I appreciate a little more blood and fire in my theology than Osteen is willing to peddle, there's little doubt that he has the interpersonal side of Jesus' ministry covered.

Osteen preaches a message of love, personal responsibility and tolerance to a diverse, multi-racial congregation of thousands. That's already guaranteed to make him a freak in the context of American Christendom with its emphasis on "correct theology" at the expense of faithfulness to good practice.

While I agree with Osteen's critics that his message isn't distinctively "Christian," it is closer to the practice of the gospel than what usually passes for sound theology in the wilderness of Sunday morning religious programming.

To his credit, Osteen doesn't use what little truth he has stewardship over to humiliate or degrade others. He doesn't parrot right-wing talking points. He has too much respect for his congregation and viewers to push them into becoming wholly owned subsidiaries of the Republican Party.

Jesus wasn't a theologian in the modern sense. He preferred concrete words and images peasants and fishermen could understand to communicate truths about God and man. It was the religious establishment of Jesus' time that tried to keep the language of redemption exclusive and accessible only to professionals.

Osteen understands that anyone who turns to the tube for meaningful lessons in spirituality instead of seeking out a community of believers is barking up the wrong tree. His job is to be a model of a compassionate, loving person who happens to be a Christian. His genial personality isn't an abstraction. His earthiness and humor show the possibilities inherent in a faith that has gotten a bad rap in this country because of all of the phonies that subscribe to it.

I'm reading a book right now about the Christian faith that makes no bones about the fact that the more seriously one takes it, the more likely you'll end up staggering toward your own personal Golgotha. This isn't fun stuff, but I believe that the "dark night of the soul" is inevitable.

I'm nowhere near agreeing with Osteen's overly sunny take on the faith, but I have no doubt that I would love this brother if I ever met him -- and that he would love me, too. I can't say that about a lot of preachers.