Quote:
Originally Posted by Pressing-On
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Remember the guy that wrote, "They Spoke in Tongues"? He set out to disprove tongues and found out he was wrong. He never did receive the Holy Ghost, but he did find out his view was not correct.
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I think you are referencing John Sherrill who wrote "They Speak With Other Tongues" which was copyrighted in 1964. He was skeptical but investigated the phenomena for an article on the subject which later turned out to be a book. He did receive the Holy Ghost Baptism in December 1960 while attending a FGBMFI meeting in Atlantic City.
It happened in room 405 of a hotel where he and others had gathered for some sandwiches, fellowship, worship and prayer. This is how he describes it on pages 155-160 of the book.
in 405 there was a certain air of expectancy. There were six of us now, seated in a casual circle about the room....
Partly in an effort to overcome self-consciousness, I shut my eyes. Soon I'd lost track of who was talking in the room. Someone began to pray in the Spirit. It was a woman's voice, but I did not know whose....
Now someone else began to pray in tongues. Another started to sing very softly in the Spirit. I felt my throat tighten... I suppose I was crying, deeply, silently...
There was a lull in the praying and singing. The voices around me receded into a quiet murmur.
"A man's voice: "I believe John wants the baptism in the Spirit."
I felt, more than saw, the five people rise and form a circle around me....
The group moved closer around me. It was almost as if they were forming with their bodies a funnel through which was concentrated the flow of the Spirit that was pulsating through the room. It flowed into me as I sat there, listening to the Spirit-song around me. Now the tongues swelled to a crescendo, musical and lovely. I opened my mouth, wondering if I too could join in, but nothing happened.
I felt a numbness in my lips and a constriction in my throat.
And suddenly I had the impression that in order to speak in tongues I had only to look up. But this was a joyful gesture. All my training and inclination was to approach God with head bowed.
Strange that such a simple gesture as lifting the head should become a battleground. And soon --perhaps because I did no obey quick enough-- another directive came clear: not only was I to lift my head but I was to lift my hands too, and I was to cry out with all the feeling in me a great shout of praise to God. A hot, angry flush rose and flooded me. It was the thing above all things that I didn't want to do.
Perhaps because it was so very repugnant to me, the issue was clearly drawn as one of sheer obedience.
What other possible significance could there be in my raising my hands high and mouthing some words of praise? But that was what I had to do, and I knew it. Foolish as it seemed. Or maybe because it seemed foolish. I heard E. Stanley Jones saying, "I had to become God's fool."
With a sudden burst of will I thrust my hands into the air, turned my face full upward, and at the top of my voice I shouted: "Praise the Lord!"
It was the floodgate opened. From deep inside me, deeper than I knew voice could go, came a torrent of joyful sound. It was not beautiful, like the tongues around me. I had the impression that it was ugly: explosive and grunting. I didn't care. It was healing, it was forgiveness, it was love too deep for words and it burst from me in wordless sound. After that one shattering effort of my will, my will was released, freed to soar into union with Him. No further conscious effort was required of me at all, not even choosing the syllables with which to express my joy. The syllables were all there, ready-formed for my use, more abundant than my earthbound lips and tongue could give shape to.
It was not that I felt out of control of the situation: I had never felt more truly masterful of myself, more integrated and at peace with warring factions inside myself. I could stop the languages at any instant, but who would? I wanted them to never stop. And so I prayed on, laughing and free, while the setting sun shone through the window and the stars came out.