A Short-Term Mission Trip to Nicaragua: Part One

 

"Some suggest that North American Pentecostalism represents an anti-cultural posture arising from an experience of deprivation or marginalization from mainstream culture.1 One response to cultural marginalization is the adoption of conservative politics and the materialistic values of consumer culture. A sense of disenfranchisement often leads to withdrawal from society or to a spiritual triumphalism.2 On the other hand, there are those who argue that Pentecostalism outside North America is developing a “theology of liberation” in response to social issues.3 The latter are described as “progressive Pentecostals” who engage issues of poverty, inequality, and ecology.4 The focus of these Pentecostals, however, is primarily on Africa, Asia, and Latin America, with little discussion about North America."   Paul Wilkinson.  "A Liberating Spirit:  Liberation Theology and the Pentecostal Movement."  The Ecumenist:  A Journal of Theology, Culture, and Society.  Vol. 4.  No. 4.  Fall, 2008.

A Short-Term Mission Trip to Nicaragua:  Part 1

 

Around 1986 I became a member of First Assembly of God, Wauchula, Florida.  I had been away from God for many years without attending any church on a regular basis.  My earliest memory of attending church, however, was when I was around 8 or 9 years old.  At that time my father was working as a watch and jewelry repairman at Friedman’s Jewelry Store in Anniston, Alabama.  Memories fade over time.  All I can remember is that I, being the eldest child of the family, and my next oldest sibling, Ann, was invited to church by a lady who lived several blocks away from our house on 1216 Jacksonville Street, Weaver, Alabama.  My parents made us children memorize our address and phone number in case we ever got lost or kidnapped.

Anyway, getting back to the story, the lady down the street, was the mother of a girl who rode our school bus.  The girl’s name was Tanya.  The church to which Ann and I were invited was next door to where Tanya and her mother lived.  I had never been to church in my life, but my mother agreed to allow us to go if Tanya’s mother would pick us up.  All I can remember is that Tanya’s mother drove a pretty light blue Ford Thunderbird, probably a 1964 or 1965 model.  Of course, at that time I had no idea about makes and models of cars.  I figured this out years later.

I can vaguely remember seeing on the church sign the name of the church, which was Church of God.   As I said earlier, I had no idea about church denominations at that time, because I was too young.  It turned out as I figured out years later that this particular Church of God was a Pentecostal church and part of the Church of God, Cleveland, Tennessee.  People like to joke about snake handlers and such, but this particular denomination did not and does not handle rattlesnakes, thanks be to God.

As the good Lord would have it, I had some familiarity with the Bible and had read portions of the King James Version New Testament and Psalms.  The Gideons were at that time still allowed to hand out pocket editions of the New Testament and Psalms at the beginning of every school year.  I got my first Gideon’s pocket New Testament and Psalm when I began first grade in Savannah, Georgia.  Shortly after that, we moved to Anniston, Alabama and then Weaver, near Fort McClellan.  I was forced to stop the first grade in Weaver because my birthday was too early in the year.  My mother had to re-register me the next year.

That Sunday morning, my first time ever attending a church service, must have been when I was in third grade or so.  The music was upbeat and we sang from a hymnbook published by the Church of God.  I can remember getting up early on Sunday morning in those years.  The TV we had was a black and white cathode ray tube television.  There were only two or three TV stations we could get and all of them played Gospel quartet groups or Pentecostal or Baptist church services.  The Gospel quartets sang southern Gospel songs, which at the time didn’t interest me that much.

At any rate, when the preacher began to preach, he preached in a singsong fashion, his voice rising and falling in volume and holding a certain cadence.  Later in seminary I learned that this Pentecostal style of preaching originated with black slave preachers who could not read or write.  The slave preacher would have another slave read a portion of Scripture.  The other slave who could read would most likely be a house slave who was taught to read the Bible.  Slave owners, contrary to modern propaganda, did want their slaves to be evangelized as Christians because good virtues and morality come from the moral law of God as it is recorded in the Decalogue or Ten Commandments.  The Pentecostal revival itself began in Los Angeles, California around 1906 when a black holiness preacher named William J. Seymour started a church in an old stable.  The Azusa Street Mission sparked a worldwide Pentecostal revival.  The black tradition of preaching in ways that could be easily understood by illiterate and poorly educated individuals apparently caught on.  To this day most classical Pentecostal churches still preach this way.

I digress too much.  Getting back to the story, that white Pentecostal preacher began to talk about how sinful and rebellious most people are.  He focused on the penalty of sin and how living an immoral life would send you to hell.  Most of the sermon was focused on the law of God and how those who broke God’s commandments were on the road to a terrible place of fire and brimstone.  As the preacher worked himself up, he began to shout louder and louder until every few minutes sweat would break out on his face.  He began to pace back and forth on the small platform.  It was not a large building, and the congregation could not have been more than 20 or 30 persons in all.  I remember the congregation began to shout in agreement with the pastor’s sermon, “Amen, brother!”  And, “Halleluia!  Glory to God!  Thank-you, Jesus!  Preach it, brother!”  The preacher brought out a white handkerchief and waved it around above his head as he preached.  Every now and then he would mop the sweat off his face with it and continue to shout and pace.

The congregation stood up and raised their hands above their heads, shouting in agreement at certain points in the sermon.  Then I noticed that some of them were chanting and singing in some sort of language that I did not understand.  Just prior to the sermon when the minister had accepted prayer requests, the entire congregation began praying together out loud and in these unknown tongues.  It sounded like a cacophony of voices all speaking at once.  This was supposed to represent what had happened on the day of Pentecost in Acts chapter 2.

I later learned that the Church of God and the Assemblies of God differed on this particular practice of praying out loud all at once.  Be that as it may, I do believe that the Church of God still practices this in the smaller rural churches and even in some of the larger classical Pentecostal churches.

I remember feeling moved by the message that the minister was preaching because I had read enough of the four gospels to know that there was a heaven and a hell.  I knew that hell was a terrible place of darkness and flames, weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.  But toward the end of the sermon the minister sudden got quieter.  He began to talk about a solution to sin and how our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ had died on the cross and shed His precious blood for sinners like me.  The minister invited everyone to come to the altar or platform and kneel for prayer and to pray for their salvation.  I did not understand much at the time, but I knew enough to know that without Jesus I would be lost and on my way to hell.  So I went forward to be saved.  I knelt with my head bowed and my eyes closed as I held my two hands together in prayer.  I remember that the preacher came down the line praying for sinners and for others to be healed of their sicknesses.  As he came to me, he laid his hands on my head and began to pray in English and in tongues.  I cannot remember exactly what he said.  However, I do remember that it had something to do with praying that God would guide me in my life and lead me to everlasting life.  I felt a chill go from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet as he prayed for me.  After the prayer line was over, the minister invited those who had accepted Christ as their personal Savior to be baptized.  He said that they should speak with him later after the service.

I went home from church that Sunday forever imprinted with the Gospel message.  I asked my mother if I could be baptized, to which she responded that I was not old enough to understand that decision.  I remember begging my father and mother to go to church with us, but they refused.  They both got really angry at times and cursed and took God’s name in vain a lot.  Both of my parents were also smokers.  Although I did not know it at the time, the Church of God, being an offshoot of the Wesleyan holiness movement, preached against smoking cigarettes as a sinful habit.  The holiness churches also emphasized that women should not dress like harlots by wearing too much makeup and jewelry or short dresses.  The women at that time wore their hair long but put it up in buns on the top of their heads, because it was seen as too erotic to let their hair down.  Women were not supposed to cut their hair, while the men were supposed to wear their hair short. 

I cannot say that my life overall changed that much.  However, I was always conscious about cursing.  God was continually on my mind.  I would look up at the stars at night and wonder where all of creation came from.

You are probably wondering what on earth all of this has to do with a short-term mission trip to Nicaragua?  I will get back to that later.  As you can see from the quote above, I am interested in the so-called progressive or liberation movement.  I wanted to share my first encounter with Pentecostalism and how that led up to a mission trip to Nicaragua in April of 1989.  I was at that time a student at Southeastern College of the Assemblies of God, Lakeland, Florida.  The school has since changed its name to Southeastern University to reflect a change from a ministerial college to a liberal arts college.

My story is complicated.  It will take several posts to lay out the groundwork for this series of posts, so please be patient.  I will be writing more in the coming days to reflect on my views on poverty, humble beginnings, and what the biblical focus of Gospel evangelism should be.

Stay Tuned for Part 2