To understand early Pentecostalism, one must engage this alternative mass media—no easy pros-pect. Early Pentecostals deemed getting out their message far more important than preserving copies of their products. After all, they expected an imminent end, not a legacy to future generations. Meager finances and radical faith meant they acted "as the Lord provided means." In practice that often meant missed or combined issues of monthly publications. Publications came and went with bewildering rapidity. Most bore biblical titles, many of which manifested Pentecostals' all-consuming sense of the times. At least five Apostolic Faith magazines served an overlapping readership. The Bridegroom's Messenger, The Bridal Call, and The Midnight Cry reminded readers that the "marriage of the lamb" loomed on the immediate horizon. The Upper Room recalled the faithful to the hallowed Pentecost event that they professed to see repeated in their midst. The Whole Truth kept in mind the "full" gospel they believed was uniquely theirs.
In addition to monthlies, there were countless tracts. A staple of evangelical outreach, tracts became for Pentecostals inexpensive announcements of the availability of miracles, spiritual gifts, divine guidance, and prophecies, as well as venues for personal testimony. Whereas periodicals tended to be ventures undertaken by leaders—pastors, evangelists, congregations, and, later, denominations—tracts gave voice to thousands of anonymous or virtually unknown devotees.
The first Pentecostals also created and marketed their own music. Since they sang with enthusiasm if not always with musical training, their hymnody offers revealing commentary on the early movement's texture. New songs seemed at first as likely to come by exercising the spiritual gifts of tongues and interpretation as by more traditional means, but within a few years, the movement boasted a cadre of musicians who gave expression to Pentecostalism's particular emphases on the Holy Spirit and the end-times. Often produced on the cheapest stock available, early Pentecostal music remains an essential if fragile and neglected source. In the movement's first heyday, few could have imagined just how profoundly Pentecostals would influence the musical tastes of vast numbers of Christians.
Inexpensive books of testimony and admonition offer yet another glimpse into the early Pentecostal ethos. They present filtered (and sometimes conflicting) memories, invaluable to the historian, but requiring careful use. The wide range, fragmentary nature, and uneven quality of the sources for the study of early Pentecostalism mean that thorough and comparative familiarity with the literature is essential to responsible study.
More than anyone else to date, Grant Wacker has accomplished this feat. His new book, Heaven Below, invites the reader into the world of early Pentecostalism. Wacker's title was a common Pentecostal descriptor for the glory Pentecostals said they felt. It is found as well in the words of an old Pentecostal favorite: "'Tis heaven below my Redeemer to know / For He is so precious to me." The song came from the pen of Methodist Charles Gabriel, but Pentecostals resonated with its intimate description of the inner life. And, Wacker observes, the way they appropriated typified the tenacity and creativity that made them prosper against the odds. For the faithful, Pentecostal experience—a "know-so" salvation and spiritually empowering baptism with the Holy Spirit—brought heaven into their souls and transformed their humdrum lives from the inside out. It made divine power part of every day for those who believed the Holy Spirit literally indwelled, guided and empowered them in tangible ways.






