Tongues speaking, healings, and modern-day prophecy—such traits of contemporary Pentecostalism are perplexing enough. But these are only things Pentecostal Christians do. The picture can become even more confusing when someone asks what Pentecostals believe.
Outsiders almost invariably view speaking in tongues as the most important characteristic of Pentecostalism. But Pentecostals will tell you the center and core of their life is a personal, vital relationship with Jesus Christ. They believe this relationship begins with a sudden, instantaneous conversion, and they tend to view with suspicion any person who cannot pinpoint the day and the hour of his encounter with Christ.
That said, the baptism of the Spirit is an important distinctive for Pentecostals. This “second blessing” plainly follows the Wesleyan model of sanctification, but with a particular twist: Speaking in tongues is the sign of the baptism. No other gift of the Spirit can substitute. (Young Pentecostal scholars have challenged this doctrinal statement, but so far the lines have held.)
A historical distinctive of Pentecostalism was the “tarrying meeting,” in which people “prayed through” until they spoke in tongues. The procedure for “praying through” was emotional, colorful, and sometimes humorous. I recall the story of a dignified colleague who went forward to receive the baptism. As hands were laid on his bowed head, he heard one stentorian voice yelling, “Hang on! Hang on!” But behind him was an equally authoritative voice bellowing, “Let go! Let go!”
Vestiges of the “tarrying meeting” and “praying through” remain distinctive to Pentecostalism.
The Second Blessing
Historically, Christians in the Methodist tradition have found it easier to accept teachings of a second blessing than have Christians in the Reformed tradition. This is so because the Pentecostal movement was born, nurtured, and brought up in the Wesleyan tradition, with its two-part understanding of salvation and sanctification. In many Methodist churches, charismatics and noncharismatics have coexisted peacefully for decades. From the outset, the Graduate School of Theology at Oral Roberts University was heavily balanced on the Methodist side. As much as 72 percent of the faculty and 42 percent of the student body have been Methodist.
But what about Pentecostalism among Reformed Christians? John Calvin pronounced the “cessation of visible gifts.” The Reformed tradition’s history, along with its tendency to intellectualize faith and be suspicious of “religious enthusiasm,” made the progress of charismatic renewal slower among them than among those in the Wesleyan tradition.
After several decades of interaction with Wesleyan and Reformed thinkers, Pentecostal and charismatic theologians are coming to a clearer understanding of the second blessing. There is no question but that when Paul speaks of the Spirit he is salvation-centered. Nor is there much doubt that when Luke is treated as a theologian, the baptism is best understood in Pentecostal terminology. We cannot disregard the witness of either author. Could we not say, then, that the baptism in the Spirit, in its full New Testament usage, includes both salvation and empowering for service? At least neo-Pentecostal theologians now recognize this empowerment is a distinct (or “second”) experience for many Christians, but not all. (For a description of both neo-Pentecostal and charismatic beliefs, see “Differences in the Family” p. 25.)
As Pentecostal theologian Tom Smail writes, “I can find in the New Testament no positive suggestion that the Spirit comes to people in some set order of experiences and gifts. There is just no trace in the New Testament of a universal law of Christian progress that lays down that we must first be converted and then after an interval go on to be baptized in the Spirit.”
But neither can neo-Pentecostal thinkers agree with Calvin that certain charismata perished with the New Testament church. The Reformed distinction between “perishable” and “permanent” gifts has no credible basis in the New Testament, which, Smail points out, “never distinguishes a set of experiences which are universally valid for all Christians, in contrast to others which are dispensationally limited to the first Christians.”
The Cult Of Prosperity
In the eyes of other Christians, the second most obvious characteristic of some charismatics—after speaking in tongues—is the so-called prosperity gospel. Actually, most Pentecostals and an increasing number of charismatics reject the prosperity gospel as originally perceived and taught. But it continues to hold allure for some believers.
The cult of prosperity bases its entire New Testament case on 3 John 2, “Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well.” New Testament scholar Gordon Fee argues against the appropriation of this verse to bolster a prosperity gospel. He points out that this was simply the standard form of greeting in antiquity: “To extend John’s wish for Gaius to refer to financial and material prosperity for all Christians of all times is totally foreign to the text.”
But such phrases as “If you have faith for a Chevrolet, drive a Chevrolet; but if you have faith for a Cadillac, drive a Cadillac” persist. However, today most of the leaders have brought a needed corrective by stressing prosperity for the sake of world evangelization. Every year millions of dollars are raised and sent to the mission field. Single churches sometimes have more than a million-dollar missions budget.
Dozens of missionary training institutes have sprung up in the larger churches throughout the country where hundreds of students are being trained and sent overseas.
Although the New Testament does not condemn riches as such, it should give us pause to realize there are 13 New Testament warnings against riches and none against being poor. German theologian Jürgen Moltmann is right: “The Bible tilts in favor of the poor.”
Critics of the movement, such as Fee, object not only to the faulty exegesis bolstering it. They also point out that it is man-centered, not God-centered, and to that extent is humanistic. They say it produces guilt and condemnation in those who do not receive their healing, that it contradicts central Bible truths about suffering, cross bearing, persecution, and the radical call to disciple-ship. They contend that it elevates man by denigrating God, and that its gnostic tendencies render inevitable an elitist interpretation of the gospel.
There is gratifying evidence, however, that in recent years many of the extreme claims are being abandoned. Even the most radical prosperity teachers, such as those in the Word of Faith school, are acknowledging the need for medical treatment—if only for those Christians who are not operating at the highest level of faith. Many also acknowledge that there is sometimes inexplicable suffering in the life of the Christian, and that even people full of faith are mortal. As the movement has drifted more to the mainstream of charismatic thought, it has achieved more balance.
The Question Of Authority
The question of religious authority underlies the main criticisms evangelicals make of Pentecostals and charismatics. Are these “enthusiastic” brothers and sisters too subjective in their approach to authority? And does their subjectivism largely account for excesses such as the prosperity gospel and churches dividing over the tongues issue?
In fact, the phrase “the Lord told me” frequently does become a questionable device for manipulation and personal preference. Although most Pentecostals and charismatics will fight strenuously for their belief that God speaks today, they acknowledge that abuses can occur.
Faith-formula, or Word of Faith preachers, frequently claim revelation knowledge that brings “correctives” to Paul’s negative confessions. They claim that Paul did not have the true faith message, or he would not have developed such a theology of suffering.
However, when pressed, almost all Protestant charismatics (and certainly all Pentecostals) will insist on the Reformation principle of sola scriptura. The formal theology of authority is orthodox, although actual practice sometimes is not.
A serious problem for both Pentecostals and charismatics is their failure to carefully develop their own theologies. Classical Pentecostals almost wholly adopted evangelical statements of faith. The Assemblies of God, for example, simply added to the National Association of Evangelicals doctrinal statement an article holding that they believed in the “baptism of the Spirit as evidenced by speaking in tongues.”
Lacking the doctrine and discipline of mainline denominations, charismatics tend to judge theology by whether or not it makes them feel good. In matters of theology, the independent charismatic is much like a loving puppy dog who turns in any direction he finds a friendly hand.
No one has yet attempted a systematic charismatic theology, for many reasons. Since the charismatic movement has only been around for 30 years, it is too early for a mature theology to arise. It requires time, experience, and scholars equipped with the proper tools to do good theology. Second, the origin of the charismatic movement was so diverse, moving among all the three great Christian traditions (Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant) that any attempt at a premature, unified doctrinal effort was doomed before it started. A third reason that a charismatic theology has been slow to emerge is the ethos of the charismatic community. Theological precision is not exactly the hallmark of the renewal.
On this point there need to be some radical changes in the theological climate for both charismatics and Pentecostals. Where there is no good theology, there is bad theology. And bad theology is a cruel taskmaster. When charismatics and Pentecostals hold unequivocally to the principle of Scripture alone as the final authority in matters of faith and practice, they already have the formal framework necessary to do a good theology of the Spirit.
Questions For Evangelicals
Evangelicals have legitimate questions to ask of the Pentecostal-charismatic movement. But Pentecostals and charismatics also have worthy questions to ask of evangelicals.
Are evangelicals as serious about their fidelity to the whole of the Scripture as they want us to believe? Evangelicals seem to be playing mind games with inerrancy. At the same time, they engage in ferocious battle with those who disagree on the inerrancy issue, and they delete the fifth book of the New Testament as having functional significance for their lives.
Neo-Pentecostals wonder if the deep division that separates the body of Christ over the inerrancy issue is really worth it—particularly when the issue among evangelicals is not whether or not the Bible is the Word of God (both sides agree to this) but how it is the Word of God. It is, therefore, a procedural matter over which good Christians disagree. It is very much like pulling legs off ants while elephants are trampling the brush. Why quibble over the jot and tittle, when a whole book of the New Testament, two long chapters in Corinthians, and numerous passages dealing with the gifts of the Spirit are functionally ignored?
For 87 years, Pentecostals have stressed the importance of the baptism in the Spirit. Their biblical support arises mainly from the Book of Acts. When it is understood that Luke is not only a historian, but a theologian with a mission as distinctive as Paul’s, the Book of Acts takes on a whole new meaning. Is it not time for evangelicals to dust off the Book of Acts and take Luke seriously as a theologian?
Propositional theology is a matter of what you believe; functional theology is a matter of what you do. Pentecostals affirm evangelicals in their propositional fidelity to Scripture, but find them woefully deficient when it comes to functional theology, particularly in appropriating the gifts of the Spirit.
Why save souls and not pray for the sick? These acts cannot be divided from Jesus’ ministry, for he came preaching, healing, and casting out demons. Who gave us permission to do less?
Tongues, if not the definitive sign of baptism with the Spirit, at least appear often enough in Acts to give a sympathetic understanding for the Pentecostal interpretation that tongues is the usual sign for the baptism. For the first 20 years of the church’s life, tongues was the normative evidence of being filled with the Spirit. Why then has this changed? If indeed it has changed.
Apart from dispensational considerations, why is it that so many evangelicals appear to be paranoid about tongues? Is it not possible that God could give a language to his children that bypasses the intellect and gains direct access to the Father? Why is tongues always “the goat,” the “last and least” of the gifts of the Spirit? If Paul wanted everyone to enjoy the blessing of a heavenly language (1 Cor. 14:5), would it not bear inquiry on every church’s part?
Another question deals with the mission of the church. Any missiologist will tell you that today the church is growing fastest where healing and miracles are stressed. Korean pastor Paul Yonggi Cho, whose church numbers over 500,000 members, built his entire church on signs and wonders. Prior to that, his ministry was mediocre and his outreach ineffective.
I once attended an evangelical missions-strategy conference where the growth among Pentecostals was attributed to superior strategy on their part—lay evangelism and lay witnessing. Helpful as these factors may be, no Pentecostal would have given one of these reasons for the spectacular worldwide growth of the church. They would simply say, “These are acts of the Holy Spirit.” What Pentecostals and charismatics really want to ask evangelicals is this: Are there any good, solid, biblical reasons to believe they are not?