My external hard drive may have bit the dust for the time being. I was trying to transfer music files earlier when I realized that my laptop wasn’t recognizing it. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the USB port in the hard drive was loose. After retrieving my USB adapter, the port receded inside of the hardware. The contents of the hard drive are 95% media files that I can stand to lose, but there are very important notes from classes last semester. I have referred back to the notes on occasion and would hate to lose them, especially the ones for social psychology. There are a few options I am going to pursue. The first is to disassemble the device (the warranty is already void) to see the full extent of the damage and hope it can be easily reattached. If this fails, I will have to take it to either a professional or somebody who knows what they are doing to fix it for me. Chris Carpenter was an electrical engineering undergraduate at Tulsa. Perhaps he could fix it for me if nobody in town can. The best, worst case scenario is that the hard drive cannot be repaired but the data still retrieved somehow. I would be satisfied with that.
Caleb and I went to a VERY charismatic revival service Wednesday night. Doing doughnut deliveries leads me all the way out to Stratford, causing me to pass by a fairly new-looking church called <a href=http://www.newbeginningschurchok.com/> New Beginnings Church </a>. The past few weeks it has been advertising an ongoing revival called the Stratford Miracle Outpouring. In a fortunate coincidence, the gas station that buys our doughnuts had a flier that advertised it in greater detail. It links itself to Todd Bentley’s revival in Lakeland, Florida. Having heard about Bentley’s shenanigans and seeing some of his Youtube videos, I really wanted to check it out. Despite being slightly vacillate due to Caleb’s cynical nature, I recruited him to come along with me. We did prep work by visiting their website and reading all the testimonials from the revival. It ranged from curing obesity, to curing achy bones, to curing suicide attempts. We also marveled at the pastors title, Apostle Prophet, which is a title that demands respect out of the fear of anathema…or a bear mauling (from the prophet Elisha).
After committing to going to this, I had immediate regret as I left Caleb’s office. In my attempt to become happier with the church universal and stop with the flippant criticisms that only lead to discontentment and resentment, it is very counter-productive to go to a church service that I know is going to upset me. The only purpose would be gossip and blog fodder. It didn’t fail…
I have two other charismatic experiences: the first was at a Benny Hinn crusade in April 2005. A small group with the intent of hunting witches. In the end, it was actually a pretty good Gospel presentation. The theology isn’t something I agreed with, but as a means of explaining the Gospel, he did a very good job. The second was at Carissa’s church. Her father is the pastor and is a very well-spoken, intelligent man. It was a very good experience with charismatic Christianity, partially because it wasn’t the stereotypical archetype of what I had in mind. It was only a slightly more upbeat version of FBC’s former 8:30 service. I enjoyed the music, the sermon was well laid out, and despite being a little out of my comfort zone, I didn’t leave thinking I had experienced some kind Christian show.
Wednesday’s service lived up to almost every expectation I had in my mind. Caleb and I got there about fifteen minutes before it started to make sure we had enough to time acclimate to our surroundings. We sat on the second to front row. We wanted seats towards the front without looking too conspicuous. Anytime two new, younger men walk into a church comprised mostly of middle-aged and older folks, people are going to notice. A lot of people took an immediate interest in our presence. As a general rule, I think this is a great policy for a church to have; for me personally, however, I feel a little bit uncomfortable with everybody asking me the same questions and telling me the same information the first time I visit a church. I response equally as friendly, but my introverted tendencies really shine in situations like Wednesday’s. The praise and worship started when scheduled. They don’t mess around; when they tell you to stand up to praise the Lord, you do it! There was a guitar, a set of drums, and a piano on stage, but to my surprise it was done by CD. The first song was Blessed the the Name of the Lord. I am pretty out of the loop on P&W, but I really do like this song. It was the only song I was familiar with. Some of the songs were absolutely ridiculous. They didn’t really praise God. The only reason they seemed like worship songs was because they identified themselves as such. For example:
“Open up the heavenly gate
And let it rain”
That was the song, over and over again. One song sounded like a Jesus romance song with lyrics like, “take me, mold me, use me, fill me.” I am not anti-P&W. There are plenty of hymns out there that do little to praise God, but this song seemed very people-centered. While we were singing, two women in the opposite corner of Caleb and I were doing the chicken dance for the entire duration. Their dancing reminded me of the Mitsubishi Eclipse commercial from a few years ago that had a women in the passenger’s seat of an Eclipse doing an over-the-top interpretive dance by flailing her arms everywhere and dancing like she was high enough ecstasy that she could actually see, feel, and probably even taste the techno music. That’s what this reminded me of. It’s the kind of dancing that is expressive in a way that you could put fake subtitles to it and make a pretty funny internet video.
After about almost an hour of singing, the pastor got up to talk. The way the church appears to be set up is that there is an administrative pastor and a preaching pastor. They are separated by titles, pastor and Apostle Prophet. The pastor came up to do announcements and discuss the status of the movement. On Tuesday night there gentleman who participated in the Azusa Street Revival that speak to the congregation. He was 105 years old. I would have been interested in hearing him speak. The pastor discussed the impact he had on everybody and announced that he would be back next month. He introduced the Apostle Prophet Marvin Hazel. At first glance, he didn’t really fit the look at what I would consider a charismatic “prophet”. He was average height and above-average weight. He had a large middle section that was disproportionate to the rest of his body. He had to warm up I guess because was pretty soft-spoken at first. He had us turn to the book of Revelation. Jackpot! Caleb and both thought. It’s always an adventure when you get to hear a church’s interpretation on Revelation, especially a church whose interpretation might come across as pretty alarmist and border “newspaper eschatology”. To our disappointment it was Revelation 3, the letters to the seven churches; in fact, we turned from Revelation to the Proverbs to read to separate scriptures. In no particular order, we read Proverbs, Isaiah, Matthew, and Luke. They were somehow interconnected (not at all). After about an hour of sermonizing, I was still unsure exactly what the sermon was about. The only thing I distinctly remember was that it had to do with seven pillars of Christianity found in Proverbs and stumbling blocks God hates, also found in Proverbs. A lot of the sermon dealt with the power of the Holy Spirit, and His moving in the revival. There were stories of His healings and other miracles. The Holy Spirit makes a very distinct sound, we learned that night. Pastor Hazel had a habit of making a “shoooo” noise in between making points. At the beginning of his sermon I thought it was just a nervous tic. As the night went on, it became very clear that he did it when his point was very poignant or used to describe a working of the Holy Spirit. “And God healed him of his pain…SHOOOOO!” It was unpredictable. At first it was just a little humourous, there were a few times when it caught me off guard, causing me to break out in inappropriate laughter. At one point Hazel looked directly our way, and I hid my laughter. The service was broadcast onto the internet, both audio and video. He would occasionally address the internet audience; he even let the power of the Holy Spirit go rogue onto the internet, followed by http://www.SHOOOOOO!!!!.com.
I was actually a little bit disappointed by the service at this point. The sermon was disconnected and difficult to follow. I wanted for him to hurry up and give his version of an alter call so we could leave. His version of an alter call was more entertaining the previous three weeks of my life. He continued to talk about the status of the movement and emphasized the need for us to take it to the streets. There was one point that Caleb got excited enough to either 1) speak in tongues or 2) sound like a stroke victim. In order for the revival to spread, we needed to be blessed and anointed with the gift of evangelism. He made a subtle point that to me summed up part of the movement—he believed that gifts of the Holy Spirit are transferred from those who posses them to those who don’t. If they are hard-pressed, I imagine they would give credit to the Lord, but he made it sound as if we are masters over the Holy Spirit instead of facilitators and vessels for His service. He had every able-bodied (and not able-bodied) individuals come up front and form a river dance line. I resisted, but Caleb was giddy to receive his blessing. I followed him up front in anticipation of what was waiting for us. I was expecting some kind of corporate prayer and then dismissal. I was wrong. He told us to raise our hands towards heaven. I happily obliged by making a “Y”, and Caleb had another stroke. Since I was one of the tallest in attendance, I was closer in reach to God. Then it happened; after a prayer in tongues, Hazel whacked somebody in the head, making the fall to the ground. Caleb and I both turned to each other. I was in horror; I am not sure what Caleb’s reaction was. He went down the line, babbling and repeating nonsensical phrases as he hit people in the head. He also made bogus prophecies and gave anointings. I had three options come to my mind: I could either make a big scene and be verbally dissident to him, telling him I was not moving, passively resist, or be so “slain” in the spirit I would make a perfect 10 if I was judged on it. I chose the third option, a choice I regret. I now wish I would have gone for the first option. Caleb went down with a little resistance. I had all of my weight on my front leg in preparation. When he smacked me, I sprang off my front foot five feet into the air and gave the catchers a run for the money. Caleb and I got tucked in with blankets. I am still unsure about the reason. Caleb and I both laughed, unsure what we were supposed to do next. We got up and went back to our seats to watch the ending act of the show.
It was now time for some healing. First, there were reports of healings read from teh internets. The most confusing was about a guy who had his leg amputated but was not growing it back, I think? The weight loss one was pretty good, but mostly they were aches-and-pains-stories. People lined up to be healed or have prayer. I wanted to be healed of my left-handedness, but they probably wouldn’t take that very seriously. There was hardly anything serious about the service. Again, most ailments were simple aches and pains. Hazel used the power of suggestion a lot, it seemed. A man was complaining of hip pains. He was “healed” but was still hurting. After a few more “healings” he said he felt a little better. It was stuff like that. One woman asked for a prayer that her husband find a new job. The church took up an offering for her family. That scored major points since regardless of theological beliefs, helping the poor is still helping the poor. While praying for people, Hazel had us extend our arms towards those being prayed for, making us look like we were supermaning. We even extended our arms towards the internet (which was at the back of the room). After the healing was over, Caleb and I left. We were both a bit “giddy” at our experience, but I left very discouraged and disgruntled.
While I am not charismatic, I understand some of their beliefs and biblical justifications. One thing I do not understand is the public display of tongues. The good Apostle Prophet spoke in tongues a lot during the service with no interpretor. I understand a private prayer language, and I understand tongues with an interpretor, but I am completely unsure his style of tongues. It wasn’t another earthly language; besides, everybody there spoke English. Another thing I don’t understand is being slain in the spirit, especially why somebody has to do it to you. A pastor does not have the Holy Spirit anymore than laymen, nor does he “transfer” Him. If the Spirit is going be so overwhelming that it causes you faint, then let the Holy Spirit push you down, not somebody with a self-imposed title higher than Pope. Charismatic Christianity was starting to warm up to me, but this experience was absolutely ridiculous and makes me very skeptical. It is unfair for me to generalize the entire movement, but this service will stick out in my mind.
