Stephen Baldwin Puts the Fun in Fundamental

Hard-core outreach” with the star of The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas

Kate Silver

He lacks the lips of Billy and the résumé of Alec, and there is of course that Daniel. But this is Stephen Baldwin, and last weekend, the man with a repertoire that includes In a New Light: Sex Unplugged, Threesome, Mr. Murder and Half-Baked was here, in Henderson, sharing how he's found Jesus. It's part of a nationwide tour promoting his new DVD, Livin' It, which homes in on extreme sports, Christian-style.


What's an extreme Christian sport? Radical speed collection-plating? Not quite. This is simply a movie, created by Stephen Baldwin's ministry (yes, ministry), of various extreme-sporters—bikers, skaters, snow demons—who also happen to embrace the J to the C.


He descended upon Central Christian Church, a complex off 95 and Sunset filled with kiosks labeled "Guest Central" and "The Next Step Booth," backed with Stephen Covey-style posters on the wall illustrating faith, hope and love. Inside the church arena, guests are greeted with a brochure and the piped-in tune of Journey's "Faithfully." There's stadium-style seating, equipped for thousands, and a stage set up for the church's eight-piece Christian-rock band, backed by the sign "What Happens in Vegas Changes the World." Above the stage are two giant screens with a flattering picture of Stephen and a countdown to showtime.


The band plays "Another Day in Paradise," and then a guitar-bearing pastor steps forth to greet the masses (who do, indeed, fill the thousands of seats) and jams on Michael W. Smith and the like, and then introduces Baldwin, as scenes from The Ususal Suspects, The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas, and Celebrity Fear Factor fill the oversized screens time and again. Then Stephen, dressed in a black T-shirt tucked into his jeans, his hair grown out, looking a bit chubby, takes the stage. He explains that it's Jesus who's been responsible for his career successes. And then tells the story of how that came to be.


He was down in Brazil a while back, and he and his wife hired a maid. Daily she would sing songs to Jesus. One day, his wife asked why. And the woman explained that she wasn't here to clean their house. She'd had a prophecy that she would come upon a couple and inspire them to one day start their own ministry.


The Baldwins laughed it off. Until years later, when his wife began reading the Bible. Twice daily, he said, she'd kneel with her nose to the floor for an hour at a time, praying. Meanwhile, he was thinking, "Why aren't you fixing my breakfast?" (As the crowd laughs, he shushes them. "No, it's true," he says. "That's how I was.") After about nine months, he reveals, he began thinking that she was really into this thing. This ... prayer. And so he began reading the Bible. Soon after, 9/11 happened. Watching the planes fly into the buildings, he thought, "Anything is possible. Jesus could come back tomorrow."


And from there, he somehow discovered his own ministry, cranked out this DVD, which, in 2004, he promoted in 80 cities, and now, bam-bam!, as the Flintstones might say. Prophecy complete, and now he's traveling the nation, giving Christianity a makeover in cool.


As he departs the stage, there are standing ovations. A few people leave, having seen what they came for. And the guitar-playing pastor reflects on how Stephen Baldwin won Celebrity Fear Factor—in Jesus, there's no need for fear. It's perfect, wrapped up with a bow, as he goes on to discuss memories of playing spin the bottle, but instead of kissing, there was a truth-or-dare element involved. "What's the truth?" he asks, bringing the story full circle. "God wants you to come clean with the dare," and the band breaks into "Dare You to Move," by Switchfoot.


Outside the arena, throngs of fans are lining up to buy Stephen's DVD, two, four, six at a time. There's an even longer line to get his autograph, and the churchgoers are discussing how they learned of the event. "I got a postcard in the mail," says one woman. "And my daughter is taking acting classes, so ..." Her daughter is nowhere in sight. And the person she's telling the tale to doesn't seem to get the conclusion to the "so ..." But still, it seems an appropriate enough reason to come see Stephen, enjoy an hour of church-lite, and it attests to what The Baldwin has termed a "hard-core new innovative form of outreach."

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