Sunny Pathway

Monday, June 8, 2009

My Pentecostal/Charismatic Roots

I’m expanding the subject material covered in my blog today. In the past I’ve shared my Lutheran roots—and doctrinally I’ve never stopped being a Lutheran. I believe the truths revealed to Luther are the foundational truths of every Christian denomination. That doesn't mean other denominations are wrong, but they're not me. I know Lutheran doctrine can be expanded, but the basic teaching are the essentials, and I’m not willing to insist on more.

However, I have another major spiritual source—one I haven’t shared—my Pentecostal - Charismatic background.

First, let me share that on January 28, 1967, I met God—entirely within the Lutheran tradition. Shortly after, at the invitation of a gal I’d talked to once, I began attending a prayer group in our Lutheran church. After a couple of meetings that seemed normal, someone said something that begged a question. My new friend responded by lending a book to me titled, They Speak with Other Tongues by John and Elizabeth Sherrill.

I’d heard about people who did that kind of thing! My parents began their ministry in rural Montana where Mom contracted polio when my oldest brother was a baby. After Dad took Mom by train to the Minnesota University Hospital, he returned to Montana where he fellowshipped off and on with a group of farmers who had experienced a spontaneous outpouring of the Holy Spirit in the early 1930s. In the spring a member of the group, a man who farmed, received a prophetic word that Jesus was coming in the fall—and several didn’t plant their fields.

Dad had farmed before going into the ministry—loved farming, and that added to his distress. He tried to tell them that no one knew the day or hour—but they weren’t dissuaded. After that, both he and Mom erected a barrier against the Pentecostal experience. I grew up on stories of well-meaning but misguided Pentecostals.

But my friend had been good to me so I read the book, and I think I must have been ready for a supernatural encounter—which, by the way, was not alien to my parents theology. When I finished the book, I had spiritual eyes to see the Pentecostal experience throughout Acts and the Epistles—and I knew it was from God.

In the book, John Sherrill shares his salvation testimony—not unlike my own. I felt connected to him. He tells how, as a reporter, his editor sent him to cover a story on people who prayed in tongues—and how he came to believe the people spoke real languages. His interest piqued, he researched tongues and other supernatural gifts as practiced in Scripture and throughout history—material he covered in detail. And finally, he shared his personal pentecost.

The slim volume is hard to find now. There are newer books—but that’s the book that spoke to me. Even so, I didn’t reach out immediately. Knowing the Pentecostal experience was valid didn’t mean I wanted anything to do with it.

We lived in Phoenix, Arizona, at the time which gave me a measure of freedom—we were a long way from family. I began attending a small independent church on Sunday evenings. The pastor, Charles McHatton, had a Baptist background, but I was struck by the similarity between him and my father. Both preached a solid Word from the Bible. He was an expository teacher—gave me a foundation that’s stood me in good stead. For example, he taught that if the devil can’t keep you from a truth, he’ll try to push you overboard and make you a fanatic. One must always search the Bible. He called prophecies similar to those of the farmer in Montana Angel of Light Deceptions.

On January 3, 1968, God dealt with me to go forward and receive this strange gift of speaking in tongues—because that was the signature gift at the time. Ken was not happy—until he saw positive fruit in my life and was eventually convinced by Scripture as well. In time, we even took our children to this crazy church, attending our Lutheran church Sunday morning and our Charismatic church Sunday evening.

Ken had always planned to return to our home territory after he finished college—and we had lived in Phoenix several years longer than anticipated. So in 1974 we moved to Wahpeton, North Dakota, where he taught electronics at the North Dakota State College of Science.

After moving to Wahpeton, we found a Pentecostal church in a town across the river—in Minnesota. We also learned that in our relatively small North Dakota community, attending two churches confused our neighbors and friends. We eventually left our Lutheran church to become full-time Pentecostals.

Looking back, it makes perfect sense. The Lutheran church of our heritage had changed greatly since our childhood—the small Pentecostal church with a Norwegian background was comfortable and the people were good people. We felt we’d found a home.

So often testimonies like this end abruptly with a happily-ever-after ending. Reality, however, is that life is a mixed bag of the good and of the not-so-good. Sometimes they're inextricably entwined. As people, we haven't yet escaped from our human propensity to sin. But even so, God has been faithful. That's our miracle. I'll be sharing more on the subject in future posts.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

this was a really nice story. I enjoyed reading it!

Solveig said...

Thank you, Cindy.