Acts of the Green Apples

"Speaking in tongues is no longer a phenomenon of some odd sect across the street. It is in our midst and it is being practiced by clergy and laity who have stature and good reputation in the church" (The Living Church)

In January, 1963, I spoke in one of the largest Episcopal churches in Texas and the next day attended a luncheon in my honor with the clergy of the diocese. At the conclusion of my first talk there was a reception, and a number of people filed by and shook my hand. Some of them made such queries as, "But how does one receive the gift?" To these I whispered, "I'll meet you in the chapel later and we'll talk about it." The word must have spread, because by the time I was free to go to the chapel it was crowded with people. Before the evening was over a number of them had committed themselves to Christ and many had been filled with the Holy Spirit.

However, the rector's wife did not comprehend the significance or the importance of the gift. When I returned to the rectory that evening, she was waiting to ask questions. I tried to explain carefully the difference between praying in tongues as a spiritual dimension open to all Christians, and the public manifestation of tongues, commonly called the gift of tongues, which is accompanies by the gift of interpretation. She was polite and was making an obvious effort to remain so, but she appeared baffled and passively belligerent.

The next morning when I arrived in the dining room for breakfast, she drew me aside and asked, "Is this speaking in tongues?" and proceeded to speak in a language from the Holy Spirit. I assured her it was and inquired how it had come about. She said she dreamed she told God, "I'll stop fighting and do it Your way," and woke up speaking in tongues.

The Rev William Sherwood, a retired Episcopal priest from Florida, decided that I should attend a Christian conference that was being held, talked me into it, and paid my expenses there. The leaders were against any public display of speaking in tongues and were very nervous about me. I found this difficult to understand, as I had never publicly spoken in tongues at any group where gifts of the Spirit were not welcome. I considered myself very quiet and conservative. (I still do, but a lot of other people don't!)

So I couldn't understand the trepidation of the leaders at my being at the conference. I still think I wasn't the one they should have worried about. Sure enough, at the very first morning meeting someone brought a message in tongues, and Joan Baker interpreted. One of the organizers furiously kicked over his chair, shouted something to the effect that he didn't believe it, and left the hall in a huff. People began inquiring what it was and what it meant. On about th esecond or third day, I became brave enough to put on my name tag. From then on I was mobbed. The Rev Tod Ewald, a charmingly enthusiastic extrovert, led me into the garden and said, "If I receive this gift I want to know what to expect. Tell me everything that can go wrong." For an hour I proceeded to tell him of the mistakes peculiar to Episcopalians. Later, when I returned to my room for a rest, I found it so full of people that they were even sitting on the floor. Father Ewald was one of those on the floor. One of my friends said, "They wanted to hear about the baptism in the Spirit, so we brought them to your room and they've been waiting for you."

I told them the story of how the Spirit had come to us at St Mark's, the purpose of His coming, and the wonderful life His coming opens up for the individual. When I asked in anyone wished to receive, Father Ewald put up his hand and was the first one prayed for. I placed my hands lightly upon his head and asked God to fill him with the Holy Spirit. He began to speak in tongues and to laugh. It was the most infectious and the most joyous laughter I had ever heard. I have since discovered that the Pentecostals refer to it as "holy laughter." Whatever it is called, it filled the room with joy, and I think everyone there wanted the gift of the Spirit for himself. It seems to me that they all received. Then one of my friends tapped me on the arm and said, "There's another roomful next door waiting for you." And so the conference continued. However, I still say that I am the conservative one. It's those other people who stir things up.

Tod became a bomb. He had been baptized in the Spirit in October or November. He usually threw a Christmas party for the parish that cost him $500 in booze and was the talk of the town. As the time drew near someone asked him, "What about our party this year?" He said, "We're different now. We don't do things like that anymore." He was so different that the entire diocese was amazed. Where he had previously been a very spiky Anglo-Catholic, suddenly Baptists, Presbyterians and others were attending his church and he even had altar calls. Don't get the idea his churchmanship changed. This was one of the extraordinary things about him. After I had attended church there one time with all of the attendant "bells and smells," Tod asked me how I liked the service. I hedged, "Could you get any more high church?" He quickly retorted, "You tell me how and I'll do it!"

About this time Bishop Pike was becoming nervouse about speaking in tongues. He was quoted as saying that he didn't mind the speaking in tongues so much, but the people who spoke in tongues were always talking about Jesus, and he was sick and tired of it. Tod decided he had to do something about this; so he made an appointment for another minister, Tod, and myself to see the bishop for fifteen minutes.

The fifteen minute appointment was a fantastic experience that I shall never forget. The three of us arrived and were cordially greeted by the bishop, who was his usual charming self. Immediately the minister of the other denomination began telling the bishop how, when he was baptized with the Spirit, a light had followed him around the garden. Actually, this was probably a true story and most fascinating. He was in his church garden praying and a man looking down from a window saw the light going behind him, went down to find out what it was all about, and became a Christian. However, all that was coming through in the telling was that if you were baptized in the Holy Spirit, a light followed you around the garden. At that time, about the last thing the bishop wanted was a light following him around the garden. Later events indicate he may have changed his mind.

Father Ewald could see that this wasn't the right tack to take with the bishop, and he sort of rocked back and forth praying, "Jesus. Jesus. Jesus." Bishop Pike appeared to be viewing him with a rather jaundiced eye. Tod didn't like the way things were going, so he finally broke in on the other minister's discourse with, "What it's all about is that it makes Jesus more real." At that stage in his life, Bishop Pike didn't appear to desire Jesus to be more real either. I could see that things weren't going too well and the time was nearly up, so I interjected my penny's worth. I pointed out that the bishop was interested in ecumenicity, and that this experience brought just that. He brightened up and admitted that he had been amazed and pleased at the many denominations represented regularly at Tod's church. My second point was that he was concerned with social reform and that after people were baptized in the Spirit they had a much more sensitive conscience and were more interested in helping others. Our fifteen minutes were up.

During our talk the bishop had two cigarettes going at the same time and had set the rug on fire. While he was stamping out the fire, he set his pants afire and began beating on them. When we left he prayed that many would be filled with the Spirit through our ministry and gave us each an autographed copy of his new book, Beyond Anxiety. It seems ironic.

Tod had a habit of speaking softly in tongues while he puttered around the altar during a church service. One day Bishop Pike was at his church for a confirmation service and became very angry at Tod for doing this. At the time the bishop had such a bad cold that he described it to a friend as "walking pneumonia." Tod instigated public prayer for him at church. After the confirmation service, Tod, knowing that many of the people in the church were not genuinely committed to Christ, suggested that those who would like to "renew" their vows to follow Christ made at their confirmation come to the altar for a rededication. The bishop obligingly laid hands on the many who flocked forward. But when some of them quietly spoke in tongues, the bishop was infuriated. However, a friend of his told me later that he had confided in her, "But they really do have something. They prayed for my cold and I was healed."

I am told the active opposition from Bishop Pike began when a priest from another diocese spoke at Stanford University (with the bishop's permission) anda number of Stanford students entered into this dimension of the Spirit. An assistant bishop to Bishop Pike is purported to have been very angry, complained bitterly and requested the bishop to put an immediate halt to glossolalia in the diocese of northern California. (This was not our diocese but we were already having troubles of our own.) So Bishop Pike had a letter from himself read in all parishes in his diocese, slowing speaking in tongues down to a walk -- and a private walk at that.

However, in some instances the injunction backfired. After hearing the bishop's letter read in church, the wife of one glossolaling priest, who had been violently opposed to her husband's experience, said to him, "You win. I believe now that it's God. How do I get it?" Her reaction was not uncommon. A group of Disciples of Christ telephoned me long distance. Their spokesman told me that for years they had been interested in the baptism in the Spirit but could not determine if it was genuinely of God. However, since Bishop Pike was against it, they had decided it was from God and wanted to know when I would next be speaking in their area. Shortly thereafter I was lecturing in the Episcopal church at Ridgecrest, and they came and received the gift.

About the time of Bishop Pike's pronouncement, I was scheduled to speak in a large Assemblies of God (the largest denomination of the Pentecostal churches) Church in San Francisco. Either the reporters saw the advertising and telephoned the church, or the pastor called the newspapers; I am not sure which. However, the reporters of both papers had a field day. For well over a week the San Francisco Chronicle carried banner headlines, such as: "UPROAR OVER TONGUES -- THE CHURCH QUARREL." The San Francisco Examiner was not far behind. One paper had dug up a picture of the bishop frowning and ran a picture of me smiling beside it. "Fighting the trend" was the caption under the picture of the bishop, and under mine it read, "Spreading the word."

My engagement at the church ended with a dinner. A fundamentalist who ran a Christian radio station in the area introduced me. He had previously been against speaking in tongues, so it was quite a coup for the church to have him there at all, let alone to have him introduce their speaker. His introduction was to the effect that over the years he had seen Bishop Pike categorically deny the basic elements of the Christian faith, and now that the bishop was stating he was stamping out glossolalia because it was "heresy in embryo," he could not accept either the bishop's evaluation or his sincerity.

A Pentecostal minister told me that about that time he was visiting a parishioner in the hospital in the hospital. After praying with the parishioner, he talked with her roommate. In the course of their talk the elderly lady came to an awareness of Jesus Christ, and then and there she prayed a prayer of commitment to Him. Afterward she said longingly, "I wish someone would tell my son about Jesus; I don't think he knows Him either." Her son was Bishop Pike.

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