BAPTISM IN THE SPIRIT:
ANOTHER LOOK
Charles Faupel
Like many of
you reading this article, I grew up in what has come to be called “classic
Pentecostalism.” The distinguishing
characteristic theologically of most classic Pentecostal groups is the belief
in the baptism in the Holy Spirit, accompanied by evidence of speaking in
tongues. This theologically distinctive
tenet is much more than a matter of mere intellectual affirmation. The Pentecostal tradition is a highly
experiential belief system and because of this, the experience of what adherents often call “fire baptism” is highly
sought after by members of these congregations.
I am among the scores of Pentecostal believers who, as a teenager,
ardently pursued this highly prized experience.
The
prototype for this experience is found in the Book of Acts:
When the Day of Pentecost had fully come, they were
all with one accord in in one place. And
suddenly there came a sound from heaven, as of a rushing mighty wind, and it
filled the whole house where they were sitting.
Then there appeared to them divided tongues, as of fire, and one sat
upon each of them. And they were all
filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak with other tongues, as the
Spirit gave them utterance (Acts 2:1-4).
There are
several elements in this first-century Pentecostal experience that are
emphasized in classical Pentecostalism today which are regarded as essential
to, or at least typical of, a valid experience of Holy Spirit baptism
today. First, the 120 were gathered together in one place. Spirit baptism in Pentecostal circles is
something that takes place in the context of a church gathering, quite
typically a Sunday or Wednesday night.
While solitary experiences are acknowledged, they are certainly not
regarded as the norm. Second, a great sound from heaven was
heard, as of a mighty rushing wind. This element, along with divided tongues as of fire, signify
the presence of the Holy Spirit. These
are dramatic manifestations, which typically translate into an
emotionally-charged atmosphere resulting in a very dramatic experience. Finally,
the first-century experience was characterized by speaking in unknown
tongues as the Spirit gave them utterance.
This element is the central and focal element in most of
Pentecostalism’s standard for a valid baptism experience. Indeed one of the major Pentecostal
denominations regards speaking in tongues as the “primary and initial” evidence
of the baptism of the Holy Spirit.
I recognize,
of course, that with the proliferation of many Pentecostal groups and the
inevitable evolution of theological understanding, the rigidity of this
prototype has given way to a more flexible understanding, at least in many
groups. The point I wish to make,
however, is that this first-century experience has been fashioned as a prototype, a pattern for what a valid
baptism experience should look like. This “prototype” interpretation by classic
Pentecostals of the pouring out of the Holy Spirit in the upper room on that
day sometime around 33 A.D has been most regrettable. Incredible demonstrations of fleshly zealotry
are carried out under the banner of being baptized in the Holy Spirit. Even more troubling, however, is the lasting
impact that the construction of this upper-room experience as a prototype has
had on scores of believers who are unwittingly being charmed into seeking an experience rather than a genuine Holy
Spirit baptism. I was one of those
believers, and the disappointment resulting from that pursuit down the
Pentecostal bunny trail left me an agnostic for several years, and resulted in
a major impediment to a vital relationship with the Holy Spirit for many years
after that.
My Story
I am sharing this story because I
cannot help but believe that there are many who have had similar experiences as
mine, and have been left disappointed, discouraged and possibly even
desperate—or on the other hand cynical and even contemptuous. I hope this testimony and the new
understanding, which has come about as a result of years of struggling with the
Lord over this issue, will be an encouragement.
I am in no way intending to disparage the Pentecostal experience in the
sharing of this testimony. I embrace it
as most precious. My intent, rather, is
to challenge my Pentecostal brothers and sisters—and all who would seek a
deeper walk with the Lord—to plumb the incredible depths of this experience in
the Holy Spirit.
I was
introduced to Pentecostalism at age nine, and it did not take me long to figure
out that being baptized with the Holy Spirit was something of central
importance to the group that I was now part of.
Very early on, I watched as my older brother had an incredible baptism
experience that not only affected the course of his life, but dramatically
elevated his standing within that local body.
He would go on to become a minister in that denomination for a number of
years. I watched as many of my friends
would have similar experiences. I wanted
this. I desperately wanted it. One Sunday night, at age 16, I decided that I
was going to have it. I went forward to
the altar where I “tarried” for some length of time without anything happening
(which meant that I wasn’t speaking in tongues, and therefore hadn’t been
baptized because I hadn’t experienced the “primary and initial” evidence for
this experience). I then remembered what
I heard a preacher once said. He
counseled that our job is to simply
give the Holy Spirit control of our mouth, and that the way to do that is to
simply start speaking syllables, and then the Spirit would take over. And so I began to speak. I recognized that what I was speaking were
syllables that I had heard an elderly gentleman speak nearly every Sunday in
our church when he would give a “message in tongues.” The phrasing was always the same (though,
ironically, the interpretation varied), and I had unconsciously committed these
glossalalic syllables to memory. Despite my recognition of what I was doing, I
continued, honestly believing that the Spirit would give utterance as the
preacher had said. Finally, after about
five minutes, I realized that this divine utterance was not taking place, and I
ceased my efforts. I can still recall
getting up from my kneeling position at the altar that night and being
surrounded by the few people left in the building (it was after 11 pm by that
time). They were congratulating me on
being filled with the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I
knew that I had just been repeating the phrases of that elderly gentleman that
I had heard so many times before—and I told my mother this on the car ride
home.
I was not
totally prepared for the shift that would take place in my standing within that
local congregation. I was now regularly
asked to publicly pray at critical times during the church service, such as
praying over prayer requests or over the offering. I was asked to give my testimony on any
number of occasions. For the first time,
I was asked to speak at our young people’s meetings, and if I remember
correctly, even asked to preach on one occasion. I was very well aware that the reason for
this is that everyone believed that I now had this magical experience of being
filled with the baptism of the Holy Spirit.
The problem
was that I knew very well what had happened that Sunday night. I was, at first, left feeling quite
guilty. My feeble attempts to convince
my mother of what had taken place apparently was not communicated with the
pastor or others, and I did not have the courage to set them straight. I later became cynical about the entire
thing. By the time I got to college I
was rapidly on my way to becoming an agnostic—a position that I would maintain
throughout my undergraduate years. I
would eventually come to a position of faith again, but not without first
rejecting my Pentecostal experience entirely as nothing but a show of
emotionalism. As unlikely as it may
seem, it was a Presbyterian pastor’s wife who challenged me not to be so quick
to reject my spiritual roots. Her
challenge to me was the beginning of a journey that would take me back to
revisit that Sunday night experience many times as I have tried to make sense
of it. That journey has led me to a new and
(I believe) a much more powerful understanding of the nature of the baptism of
the Holy Spirit.
The Upper Room
Experience as a Shadow and a Type
I have
suggested that classic Pentecostalism has fashioned the upper room experience
in first-century Jerusalem a prototype
for the baptism experience today. That
is to say, it is regarded as the original experience upon which subsequent
experiences are to be modeled after and by which they are to be evaluated. I want to suggest, however, that this
momentous event is not to be understood as a prototype, but rather as a shadow and a type. There is a profound difference between a
prototype and a shadow and a type.
Whereas a prototype is something to be replicated, at least in its
essential elements, a shadow and a type is understood
to be a symbol and a harbinger of a greater spiritual reality which is to
come. Shadows and types are commonly
used throughout scripture to foreshadow greater spiritual realities yet to
come. The journey of the Israelites out
of Egypt, through the wilderness and into the Promised Land, which comprises
the Old Testament books of Exodus through Joshua is
itself a powerful shadow and type of our own spiritual journey.[1] Jesus suggested that His own ministry while
on earth was a shadow and type of greater things to come when he said, “Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that
believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than
these shall he do; because I go unto my Father” (John 14:12). The last supper that Jesus shared with His
disciples was also a shadow and type, the taking of the elements representing
our identification with Him in His death prefiguring our own death to the flesh.
In the same
way, the experience of the 120 in the upper room foreshadowed a much more
profound spiritual work that was in store for those who would go on to greater
depths in Christ. The question that we
want to address throughout the remainder of this article is just what is it
that this first-century baptism experience is foreshadowing for us?
Sound as a Mighty Rushing Wind
Wind in
scripture is typically used to refer to the Spirit of God. Indeed, the Greek word for Spirit, as in Holy
Spirit (or in the King James, Holy Ghost) is pneuma, from which we get our word “pneumatic” referring to that which
operates by air, such as pneumatic tires or pneumatic tools. This idea is also
present in the Old Testament as the Hebrew word ruwach—which might be translated “wind” or “blast”—is used to describe
the moving of God on the face of the waters (Genesis 1:2). It was the “wind” of God that brought the
very world into being. This is
translated as the “Spirit” of God in most translations.
The sound as
a mighty rushing wind, therefore, can mean nothing other than the very Spirit
of God. This was a life-giving force that would forever change these men and
women. It changed Peter from a fearful
denier of Christ in the presence of a young girl to a bold proclaimer of his
Master in the presence of ruling authorities.
It transformed Stephen into a willing martyr for his Lord. This was not a mere emotional experience at
an altar. It was the energizing force
that would impregnate these early disciples with the very Spirit of God and
drive their subsequent interactions as humans infused with Divine Life, Ways
and Truth.
This may
very well have been a highly charged emotional experience in that upper room
for these 120 individuals. We don’t
know, as the Bible is silent on this issue.
We do know, however, that it was transformative. This is the same transformative power that
accompanies God’s Spirit whenever He moves upon the hearts of men. This may take place at an emotional altar
call. It may also take place in the
solitude of our own home, struggling with a personal issue in our lives which
serves as the opening for His powerful Breath of Life. We may not even be fully
conscious that anything has taken place at any given time. However, as it is transacted within us, this
mighty work is but the earnest of a progressive saturation of His Spirit that
takes place as He applies His refining fires to our lives.
Tongues of Fire
The Acts
account indicates that tongues of fire rested upon each of the 120 that were
gathered in the upper room. Fire almost
always represents refining or purification in scripture. Meat sacrifices made by the Israelites in the
Old Testament were always made as a burnt offering with fire. Burning with fire, even of unblemished
animals, was the purification rite.
Numerous times in the Old Testament account, most notably the city of
Sodom perhaps, God rained down fire on the wicked, an act of purging and
purification. The New Testament also
speaks repeatedly of fire as a refining agent.
Paul states, for example,
Every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day
shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try
every man's work of what sort it is. If
any man's work abide which he hath built thereupon, he
shall receive a reward. If any man's
work shall be burned, he shall suffer loss: but he himself
shall be saved; yet so as by fire (1 Corinthians 3:13-15).
More
directly pertinent to the question at hand, John the Baptist announces the
coming of the Christ as one who comes bring a baptism of fire:
John answered, saying unto them all, I indeed baptize
you with water; but one mightier than I cometh, the latchet of whose shoes I am
not worthy to unloose: he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with
fire: Whose fan is in his hand, and he
will throughly purge his floor, and will gather the
wheat into his garner; but the chaff he will burn with fire unquenchable (Luke 3:16-17).
John the
Baptist was clearly heralding not just the coming of Jesus, but the Holy Ghost
baptism which Jesus would bring. Moreover,
in this prophetic utterance, John the Baptist was suggesting something about
the nature of this baptism. It was a
baptism by fire, a baptism whose purpose was to purge, to burn the chaff with
“fire unquenchable.” The chaff, my
fellow sojourner, is all that is within us that is not of the Spirit of
God.
The “tongues
of fire,” then, is a prophetic foreshadowing of the purging and refining
process that God must do in us. This is
not a one-time event that takes place at an emotionally-charged altar
event. Such an occasion, if indeed it
takes place at all in this manner, is but a dramatic introduction to a deep and
profound baptism experience that will progressively take place over the
remainder of one’s lifetime. This
baptism will be exhilarating at times.
It will more often be painful as God burns the chaff out of our lives
with His unquenchable fire. This baptism
by fire will continue until He can see His golden face perfectly reflected in
us.
Speaking with Other Tongues
We come now
to that element of the upper-room experience that is considered most central to
the proposed prototype of classic Pentecostalism. The scriptural account simply states that
they “began to speak with other tongues,
as the Spirit gave them utterance.” Nothing
is said of the nature of these tongues, except that later in the same passage
(v. 6) it indicates that there were Jews of many nations who “heard them speak in his own language.” This has been taken to mean by many
Pentecostal groups that these utterances were actually cultural languages. During the very early years of the
Pentecostal Movement, spirit-baptized believers were sent out as missionaries
throughout the world taking with them the confidence that they would be able to
converse fluently with native-speaking people groups because their spirit
language resembled Chinese, or Japanese, or Spanish, or… Indeed, there were occasions when members of
these native-speaking groups were present when the Spirit gave such utterances
and verified that they were speaking their language. Others have contested this understanding,
insisting that this spirit-language is a heavenly
language, understood in the courts of heaven and shared with the body of
Christ as the Holy Spirit gives the interpretation through another member of
the body.
I would
contend that neither of these understandings captures the essence of this
element of the upper-room experience.
Please understand that I greatly value the experience of speaking in
tongues, as this has become a regular part of my own prayer life. Nevertheless, there is a far more profound
meaning to this early experience. This
meaning can only be grasped as we understand this experience as a shadow and a
type of greater spiritual realities to come.
The
scriptural basis for this understanding is revealed in what takes place
following the upper-room experience:
Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that
every man heard them speak in his own language.
And they were all amazed and marvelled, saying
one to another, Behold, are not all these which speak Galilaeans? And how hear we every man in our own tongue,
wherein we were born? Parthians, and
Medes, and Elamites, and the dwellers in Mesopotamia, and in Judaea, and Cappadocia,
in Pontus, and Asia, Phrygia, and Pamphylia, in Egypt, and in the parts of
Libya about Cyrene, and strangers of Rome, Jews and proselytes, Cretes and Arabians, we do hear them speak in our tongues
the wonderful works of God. And they
were all amazed, and were in doubt, saying one to another, What
meaneth this? (Acts 2:6-12)
The 120 were
speaking in languages that men and women from all walks of life understood! They had a fresh message that was ultimately
intended to be heard and understood by all of creation. When God speaks, He speaks in a language
understandable by those to whom He is speaking. He spoke the
language of ancient Hebrew to the Israelites. He spoke through Paul
to the Corinthians and others in their native language of ancient Greek. And
now, He was speaking to a multitude of people gathered in Jerusalem, each in
their own language!
Moreover, the
“other tongues as the Spirit gave them
utterance” extends far beyond the ability to speak another cultural
language, or even glossalalic syllables that are of
no known earthly language. The “other
tongues” experience of the 120 was portending a supernatural ability to “speak
the language” of cultures and subcultures in all of the metaphors and idioms
that might be unique to that cultural group.
Indeed, Jesus used expressions and word pictures that were commonly
understood by His hearers. The good news of the Kingdom is
increasingly being taken far beyond the church walls and being brought to the
marketplace—to the streets, the shopping malls, neighborhood parks, and even to
alcoholics in bars and drug addicts in shooting galleries. It is
also being shared with Hindus, Muslims, Buddhists and humanistic atheists
within the various cultures in which they find themselves. The message
of the Kingdom is being spoken forth in all of these cultures and subcultures
with language, metaphors and idioms that speak precisely to them.
The baptism of the Holy Spirit entails nothing less than a supernatural
infusion of His power and grace to speak that word of Life in ways and
expressions that will penetrate the heart of the hearer, just as it penetrated
the hearts of those hearers on the streets of first-century Jerusalem. Language and cultural study will almost
certainly be involved in these endeavors, as missionaries preparing for
ministry abroad now do. Yet studying the language and learning cultural nuances
are not sufficient to effectively impart this revolutionary message. Nothing less than the force of the Holy
Spirit emanating from within those who are sharing this gospel message and
anointing the ears of the hearers will accomplish the glorious end of drawing
all men (and women) to Christ.
A Fresh Baptism
Holy Spirit
baptism is so much more than a powerful emotional experience at an altar
rail. It is an on-going life-changing
transformation equipping one to be a carrier of the Kingdom of God itself. This is not a one-time experience, but a
daily walk in the Spirit that progressively purges and strips away all that
which is not Christ within us. As this
takes place, we increasingly find ourselves being “dead” to Old Adam, the
carnal man with all of its ungodly expressions.
This stripping and purging is what is represented in the tongues of fire
upon the 120 in the upper room. As this
takes place we come to a growing awareness within ourselves of our own
unworthiness while at the same time a lessening of the sin-consciousness within
us. This is so because as we become
decreased we are ever more sensitized to the Christ (Anointing) within which
knows no sin! He now becomes our
righteousness. Our identity is no longer
“just a sinner saved by grace,” but rather “a child of God being made into a
king and a priest.” An
emotional experience accompanied by physical manifestations such as speaking in
tongues may or may not be a portal into such a baptism by fire, but let us not equate
it with the thing itself.
The fire
came that eventful day was accompanied by the sound as of a mighty and powerful rushing
wind. This fire of God’s refining, as
painful as it is as we go through it, is empowering, because as the fire is
applied, Christ is growing within us. We
are given power over the enemy which would assail us from within and
without. We must not be discouraged,
however, when we do not immediately experience this overcoming power. This baptism is progressive in nature and our
lives become ever more victorious as the flame does its work. His Spirit within
us becomes ever more transcendent. Our
steps are increasingly directed by Him, even when those steps are leading in a
direction that others may deem inappropriate.
We find ourselves being guided less by the expectations of others, and
more by that still small voice that resonates so deeply within.
This
increased sensitivity to the Holy Spirit will inevitably lead to our speaking
in “unknown tongues.” I am not speaking
here of glossalalic syllables, but rather we will
find ourselves speaking words of Life to others in ways and with a fluency that
we could not have imagined. These words
will come at Kairos moments, often
when we least expect it. I will never
forget an encounter with a man who was struggling with a sexual addiction. I had just moved to Arkansas and was part of
a fellowship that had sponsored a week-long event in this area. The pastor had asked me to join him and
several others in praying for this man who was visiting from Georgia. This pastor fancied himself and his wife as
“deliverance ministers,” and after asking the man to share some of the details
of his addiction, they began marching around him and, in a loud voice, casting
out demons “in the name of Jesus.” My
spirit was grieved within me. The Lord
had miraculously delivered me from a sexual addiction some ten years earlier
and I knew in my spirit that what was taking place here was nothing less than
abuse of this man. Suddenly and quite
unexpectedly even to me, I rushed forward to this man who was sitting on a
chair in the middle of the room, knelt before him and began weeping. All that I could do was to tell him through
tears that I knew his struggle, but that God loved him unconditionally, even in
the midst of the desperate struggle that he was in. A holy hush fell upon that room. I knew that my words did not sit well with
the “deliverance ministers,” but I knew then and I know now that this was the Word
of the Lord for that man at that time.
My natural man could never have spoken these words through these
tears. I was new to this fellowship and
my natural inclination would have been to come into line with the deliverance
praying—which I now recognize as a charade, though I did not then. My obedience to the Lord in this way was only
by the power of the Holy Spirit to speak this “unknown tongue.” (Incidentally, we left that fellowship a
short time later as we were observing other questionable practices.)
Closing Thoughts
I am not in
any way questioning the authenticity of anyone’s experience of the baptism in
the Holy Spirit. I do, however, contend
that the upper room experience is not
to be regarded as a prototype—a model to be imitated or even approximated in
the details of that experience. This
first-century event is, rather, a shadow
and type of the spiritual realities that God has in store for those who
would go on to an obedient walk with Him.
I rejoice with those who have had an experience that they can point to
as the time when they were filled with the Holy Spirit. This is, from any account that I have heard, an experience that bonds a believer to the Lord in a
way they have never known before. I have
not had such an experience—at least not one that looks like classic
Pentecostalism says that it is supposed to look like. I have, however, had many bonding
experiences, when the Lord has spoken a transformative Word directly into my
spirit. These experiences, individually
and collectively, have had the effect of so firmly joining me to the Lord that
no adversity, no purging or refining fire, no amount of discouragement could
possibly cause me to abandon this precious walk. Our Lord provides these experiences so as to
“gird us up” for the real baptism by fire that He has for all those whom he is
making into His own image.
You, like
me, may never have had an experience that you have identified as the “baptism
in the Holy Spirit.” If you are like me,
especially if you have had any extensive involvement in classic Pentecostalism,
you have probably questioned your own walk.
When the times of testing have come, when your carnal nature has been
ruthlessly exposed, when discouragement has come knocking on your door, you
have probably longed for an experience that you believe to be the baptism in
the Spirit so that you can overcome all of these fiery darts as one might flick
a pesky mosquito off their arm. Be of
good cheer! You are, in fact, experiencing the baptism of the Holy
Spirit at these very times! If you think
about it, you will almost certainly recall moments and encounters with God in
your life that have bonded you closely with Him. These moments serve for you the very purpose
that the highly emotional baptism experience that many people have at the altar
serve for them. They are precious mile markers along the narrow road.