Pentecostal

A Brief History of Dance in Worship

by

Christian dance has persisted throughout the history of the church, despite many official decrees against it. Christian churches that have incorporated dance and other stylized gestures in worship have benefited from a profound way of expressing their praise and enacting the gospel message. Dance as worship is one manifestation of the Spirit’s ongoing activity in the church.

The New Testament church was not born into a vacuum, but into a Jewish culture filled with heritage and saturated with rich traditions. T. W. Manson has commented: The first disciples were Jews by birth and upbringing, and it is a priori probable that they would bring into the new community some at least of the religious usages to which they had long been accustomed. (T. W. Manson, quoted in Ralph P. Martin, Worship in the Early Church [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974], 19)

Christianity entered into a tradition of already existing patterns of worship, including music and dance, as found recorded in both the Bible and ancient writings.

King David danced exuberantly in God’s presence (2 Sam. 6), while Miriam the prophetess led the women to dance with tambourines in response to their mighty deliverance from the pursuing Egyptian army (Exod. 15). Women are seen dancing in Shiloh at a feast (Judg. 21:21–23) and before David as a response to his military victories (1 Sam. 29:5). Visual images show both the bride and the bridegroom dancing: he leaping in dance (Song 2:8) and she as two dancing companies or armies with banners (Song 6:13). The Psalter commands the dance (Ps. 149:3; Ps. 150:4).

Other writings provide accounts of dancing in Jewish history. The Mishna describes a major ceremony of Sukkot, the seventh and final feast of the Jewish sacred year celebrating God’s rains and the increase of crops. The ritual is called Nissuch Ha-Mayin, in Hebrew meaning the water drawing. “The water-drawing ceremony was a joyous occasion, replete with grand activity and high drama” (Mitch and Zhava Glaeser, The Fall Feasts of Israel [Chicago: Moody Press, 1987], 175). “Levitical priests, worshipers, liturgical flutists, trumpeters, and a crowd carrying lulax (branches) and etrog (fruit) celebrated together in a great display of symbolic activity and festival rejoicing” (Sukkah 5:1). It was probably the viewing of this ceremony to which Jesus makes reference in his great teaching on the outpouring of the Holy Spirit in John 7:37–39.

Another celebration, which occurred on the first night of the feast of Sukkot, was the illumination of the Temple. Enormous golden candlesticks were set up in the court of the women.

The mood was festive. Pious men, members of the Sanhedrin, and heads of the different religious schools would dance well into the night holding burning torches and singing songs of praise to God. (M. and Z. Glaeser, Fall Feasts of Israel, 182)

The Glaesers go on to report: “Not only did they play instruments with fervor, but the Levitical choir stood chanting and singing as the leaders of Israel danced” (M. and Z. Glaeser, Fall Feasts of Israel, 183).

Dr. Sam Sasser writes: Recognized Norwegian scholar Sigmund Mowinckel, in what is believed to be one of the best books written on the Psalms in Israel’s worship, and a standard text in most graduate schools and seminaries, notes in definition: “Together with song and music goes the dance, which is a common way of expressing the encounter with the body. The dance is a spontaneous human expression of the sense of rapture.… At a higher religious level it develops into an expression of the joy at the encounter with the Holy One, an act for the glory of God (2 Sam. 6:20ff). It behooves one to give such a visible and boisterous expression of the joy before Yahweh.” (Sam Sasser, The Priesthood of the Believer [Plano, Tex.: Fountain Gate Publishers], 111)

The church from A.D. 30 to A.D. 70 was undergoing transition. There was a separation from Temple worship, and those elements in the old covenant which would not be continued in the new covenant. The epistles and the book of Acts outline the forms and ceremonies of Judaic worship that would be eliminated in the church. Blood sacrifice (Heb. 9), Levitical priesthood (Heb. 7:11–28), the practice of circumcision (Acts 15:5, 28–29), and the keeping of new moons and Sabbaths (Col. 2:16–23) were to be discontinued. However, there is no commentary about discontinuing the use of musical instruments, singing, and dancing. Nowhere are these condemned or forbidden. On the contrary, the following Scriptures seem to indicate the continuing practice of inherited worship patterns (Col. 3:16; Eph. 5:19–20; Acts 15:13–16; 1 Cor. 5:13, 14:26).

It is noteworthy that historically the book of Psalms has been the basic hymnbook for the church and her worship patterns, as David Chilton describes: When the church sang the Psalms—not just little snatches of them, but comprehensively, through the whole Psalter—she was strong, healthy, aggressive, and could not be stopped. That’s why the devil has sought to keep us from singing the Psalms, to rob us of our inheritance. If we are to recapture the eschatology of dominion, we must reform the church; and a crucial aspect of that reformation should be a return to the singing of Psalms. (David Chilton, Paradise Restored [Tyler, Tex.: Reconstruction Press, 1985], 8-9)

Although Jewish tradition is replete with accounts of dancing, Ecclesiastes 3:1 and 4 states, “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven / A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” The New Testament church was soon to experience seasons of mourning and weeping. Lamentations 5:15 says: “The joy of our heart is ceased; our dance is turned to mourning.” Laughing and dancing would again find their season in the church as God brought times of restoration, healing, and revival. Jeremiah 31:4 promises, “Again I will build thee, and thou shalt be built, O virgin of Israel: thou shalt be adorned with thy tabrets, and shall go forth in the dances of them that make merry.”

Separation from Jewish heritage was not the only point of adaptation for the new church. Until the time of Constantine, a.d. 323, the church experienced extreme persecution at the hands of the Roman government. Christians were captured, used as human torches, compelled to fight in gladiatorial combat, and fed to lions in elaborate spectacles called Roman games. The games reflected the immoral decadence, monstrous abuses, unwieldy influence, and imperial sadism into which Rome had fallen. Incorporated into these games was the Roman dance, an art form borrowed from other cultures, mainly Greek, and consigned to slaves.

Christians had seen their friends and fathers martyred in amphitheaters where their agony was merely a prelude to, or an incident in, the shows. That the church Fathers would honestly have denied any desire to employ consciously a trace of taint from Roman spectacle we have no reason to doubt. Church history is full of the courageous and violent denunciations that the early Fathers launched against the shows.

As early as a.d. 300 a council at Elvera decided that no person in any way connected with circus or pantomime could be baptized. In 398, at the Council of Carthage, a rule was established excommunicating anyone who attended the theater on holy days (Lincoln Kirstein, Dance: A Short History of Classic Theatrical Dancing [Little Rock: Revival Press, 1982], 59-60).

Although church history of the first millennium finds the weight of evidence to be in opposition to dance, there are quotes from writings of the church fathers which indicate some trace of dancing remained in the Christian church.

  • “Of those in heaven and those on earth, a unison is made, one General Assembly, one single service of thanksgiving, one single transport of rejoicing, one joyous dance.” Chrysostom (a.d. 386)
  • “Everything is right when it springs from the fear of the Lord. Let’s dance as David did. Let’s not be ashamed to show adoration of God. Dance uplifts the body above the earth into the heavenlies. Dance bound up with faith is a testimony to the living grace of God. He who dances as David dances, dances in grace.” Ambrose (a.d. 390)
  • “To keep the sacred dances, discipline is most severe.” Augustine (a.d. 394)
  • “Could there be anything more blessed than to imitate on earth the dance of angels and saints? To join our voices in prayer and song to glorify the risen creator.” Bishop of Caesarea (a.d. 407)
  • “I see dance as a virtue in harmony with power from above.” Thodoret (a.d. 430)
  • “Dance as David danced.” Bishop of Milan (a.d. 600)
  • “Dance as David to true refreshment of The Ark which I consider to be the approach to God, the swift encircling steps in the manner of mystery.” St. Gregory of Nazianzus (a.d. 600) (all quoted from Debbie Roberts, Rejoice: A Biblical Study of the Dance [Little Rock: Revival Press, 1982], 39-40)

In his book on dance, Lincoln Kirstein records a few examples of dancing in Christian churches: The Abbot Meletius, an Englishman, upon the advice of the first Gregory, permitted dancing in his churches up to 604.… The Jesuit father Menestrier, whose history of dancing published in 1682 is full of valuable data about his own time as well as of curious earlier tales, tells of seeing in certain Parish churches the senior canon leading choirboys in a round dance during the singing of the psalm. The Parish Liturgy reads “Le chanoine ballera au premier psaume.” (“The canon will dance to the first psalm.”) (Kirstein, Dance, 63)

Continuing in this vein, Kirstein records three more examples: Scaliger said the first Roman bishops were called praesuls and they led a sacred “dance” around altars at festivals. Theodosius says that Christians of Antioch danced in church and in front of martyrs’ tombs. Los Seises, the dancing youths of the Cathedral of Seville, whose annual performance on the feasts of Corpus Christi and the Immaculate Conception was connected with the ancient Mozarabic rite, are often described as ritual dancers, though their dance was really an independent votive act, peculiar to the towns of Seville and Toledo. (Ibid.)

The writings of Augustine in the fourth century issue a complaint against dancing: It is preferable to till the soil and to dig ditches on the day of the Lord than to dance a choreic reigen. Oh, how times and manners change! What once was the business of lute players and shameless women only, namely to sing and to play, this is now considered an honor among Christian virgins and matrons who even engage masters in their art to teach them. (Walter Sorell, The Dance through the Ages [New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1967], 36)

On the one hand, condemned and on the other hand embraced, dance seems to have never completely disappeared from church history. Especially in the Mediterranean countries and the Orient, people never gave up dancing. Here, the clergy applied less coercive measures to restrain dance. However, taking the gospel to the north, the clergy had an uphill struggle to uproot the rituals and pagan rites.

With the Christian way of life taking root, the heathen quality was lost, but the people retained what they liked about the old way. How many things in which we still indulge nowadays have their roots in ancient pagan rituals, such as the idea of a June bridge, Halloween, or Yuletide! Or who would think today of the Maypole as a phallic symbol and of the dance around it as a fertility dance? (Ibid., 38)

Although dance was more often condemned by the millennium church than sanctioned, there were exceptions. As Alordyce Nicole writes, in his exhaustive work on the period, had this been actually enforced half of Christendom, including a section of the clergy, would have been out of communion with the church.… From East to West, in Constantinople, in Antioch, in Alexandria, in Rome, the mimic drama flourished, uniting together old pagans and new Christians in the one common enjoyment of pure secularism. (Kirstein, Dance, 60)

Because of the increase in heresy, the leaders desired more centralization of authority and a set pattern of doctrine. A series of traceable events, beyond the scope of this article, gave rise to priestly class and eventually the formation of the Roman Catholic church.

From the scriptural position of the priesthood of all believers there grew up a distinct priestly class.… The early leaders warned against falling from this idea, but soon a priestly class was developed and the priests began to do things for common Christians that, they were told, they could not do for themselves. This was not only a retrogression to Jewish days, but was also a compromise with paganism. If the ministers were to be priests they had to interpret the items of worship in such a way as to give themselves special functions and to justify their position.… Along with these developments was a general increase of ceremonialism. Simple services became ritualistic. (F. W. Mattox, The Eternal Kingdom [Delight, Ark.: Gospel Light Publishing House, 1961], 151)

Combining the practice of asceticism and the sharp cleavage between clergy and laity, this period finds little expression of dance in the church; and what can be found is in the ceremony and service of the priests. Hence, the rise of the Mass. The Mass is based on Christ’s passion. It is called Eucharist or Thanksgiving, since those celebrating give thanks for the bread and wine. The Mass continued to be arranged until it supported “an astonishing exuberance of minute detail, each tiny point related to a central truth of the religion” (Kirstein, Dance, 70).

The expression of one’s beliefs and feelings through movement is the very foundation of dance. Though the worship form of dance was removed from the people and repressed in the priesthood, the basic elements of dance found its expression in the Mass. It is the indirect contribution of the Mass with which we are occupied but even so, there were definite preordained movements and postures for the participants. However, we do not infer nor should we “easily assume that basilicas were sacred opera houses, or the Mass was a holy pantomime” (Ibid., 67). But dancing as a form of worship is not an isolated phenomenon or an ancient relic of our distant Hebraic ancestors. Therefore, we must understand the forms worship may take when it emerges as the dance.

  • Outside the walls of the church, people were still expressing religion in dance, although their belief was more a fear of death than faith in the living God that prompted Israel’s dance.
  • In no other epoch besides the late Middle Ages has the dance been more indicative of social phenomena. It reflected frightening aspects of the plague and the fear of death.
  • At Christian festivals people would suddenly begin to sing and dance in churchyards, disturbing divine service.
  • Hans Christian Anderson tells of little Karen who was cursed to dance without stopping and who could not find rest until the executioner cut off her feet. (Sorell, Dance through the Ages, 40, 42)

The church leaders tried to stamp out these obscene dances, which often began in the churchyard cemetery with people dancing around tombstones then moving through the town attracting more and more people as they went. This dance, also known as the dance macabre, reached a climax as the bubonic plague swept Europe in the fourteenth century. These dances of violent nature occurred everywhere. In Germany, they were called St. Vitus’ dance. In Italy, it was called tarantella and these dances indicated the tenor of life, particularly during the period of the plague (Ibid., 40).

The clergy maintained that the millennium would be the day of reckoning, Judgment Day. When the year 1000 passed without any visible changes, some of the fear subsided.

The Church remained powerful and the spirit of medievalism lingered on, even while man awakened to new inner freedom. From the crudeness of his carnal lust and mortal fear of it, he escaped into chivalry; checking his growing freedom, he forced himself into the straitjacket of ideal codes. (Sorell, Dance through the Ages, 39)

The fourteenth-century introduced more change for the world and the church with the beginning of the Renaissance, the great revival of art and learning in Europe in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries. The world was revolting to set the soul and body free.

Above all, Renaissance man had a visual mind, as his accomplishments in printing, sculpture, and architecture prove. The eye became used to seeing in patterns. And it was a geometric design that inspired the first attempts at ballet. (Ibid., 90)

The Renaissance, emphasizing the dignity of the human person, laid the foundation for independence of thought which eventually broke the grip of Catholic theology. A revitalized interest in the study of the Scriptures caused people to be aware that the New Testament church was vastly different from the church in existence in Western Europe.

The religious and moral corruptions now could be effectively combated because of the intellectual freedom which had been encouraged by the Renaissance. Men began to see in the Scripture that the claims of the clergy were unfounded, and with a new intellectual basis for their criticism, ideas of opposition to the hierarchy spread rapidly. (F. W. Mattox, Eternal Kingdom, 240)

The sixteenth-century began the Reformation. Notable leaders sought to eliminate the unscriptural doctrines and practices of the Catholic church and, through reforms, return the church to New Testament patterns. One of the first reformers was Martin Luther (1483–1546). Along with emphasizing justification by faith, Luther stressed the priesthood of all believers. This was a preeminent step to releasing the people to express their worship unto God, which would eventually release all the Davidic expressions of praise, including dance.

John Calvin (1509–1564) was a leader of the Reformation in Switzerland who laid down principles that have influenced a large part of the Protestant world today.

The church of Luther experienced and preached the ideal of renunciation of the world more strongly than the Reformed church, which desires to proclaim the glory of God in all areas of life. The Reformed Churches do not view this world as a vale of tears but as the vineyard of the Lord, which is to be cultivated. They do not shun the world, but meet it, accepting the danger of becoming secularized in order to magnify God’s name within it and by its means. Thus in the last analysis, they subject nothing to a judgment of absolute condemnation. Everything must and can serve to the glorification of God, even art. We may recall the thought of the Neo-Calvinist Abraham Kuyper. Basically, the art of the dance should also be capable of being incorporated into the service of God. (Gerardus Van Der Leeuw, Religion in Essence and Manifestation [Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1986], 51-52)

Writings on the Renaissance and Reformation periods are scattered with accounts of a revitalized interest in dance in the church. Giovanni Boelaccio of the fourteenth century mentioned the carole, a dance in a ring to singing voices, originally performed in May only, but whose popularity grew until the carole was sung and danced throughout the year.

Variations of the carole arose everywhere. The minnesingers in Germany called it Springtang and put into it a great many hops and small leaps.… The people identified the carole—today known only as a Christmas song—with religious images as they appear in many “Last Judgment” paintings of the early Renaissance which show angels in heaven enjoying a carole. (Sorell, Dance through the Ages, 41)

The varied artistic styles of the Renaissance reflect the concept of dancing in the heavens. The works of Leonardo da Vinci pictured the entire cosmic order as dancing. Dante, a famous writer, poet, moral philosopher, and political thinker of his day saw the dance of the saints in heaven.

When those bright suns so gloriously singing
Had circled three items ‘round about us turning,
Like stars which closely ‘round the pole go swinging,
They seemed like women who are not yet willing
To dance, but to the melody stand clinging
While the new rhythm mind and ear is filling. (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 30)

The works of Vondel reveal the same visual imagery:

… for the guests so merry
At the wedding, must not rest,
Since their dance is necessary.
Heaven holds no ghost nor quest
Who with holy dance and singing
Does not spend eternity.… (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 30)

Vondel also sees how the church dances with God:

As air through many organ pipes is guided
One spirit is to many tongues divided,
In equal time through a field of equal sound,
Where Church and God together dance the sound.
The angel hosts from heaven’s height descending
Dance deeply down, our sacrifice attending,
About Christ’s body on His altar-stone.… (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 30)

Apparently, the prevailing philosophy embraced dancing in heaven. “To die on earth as a martyr brings heavenly joy.… In Fra Angelico’s The Last Judgment, the virgins and martyrs dance the heavenly dance” (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 68). Luther, describing heaven’s garden for his young song, portrays “a small beautiful meadow, which was arrayed for a dance. There hung lutes, pipes, trumpets, and beautiful silver cymbals” (Van Der Leeuw, Religion, 68). Although the church may have somewhat embraced the concept of dancing in heaven, the practice of dancing on earth was, for the most part, shunned if not declared anathema.

No longer under the heavy restraints of the church, Renaissance society was, therefore, dancing. Two opposite poles of dance developed in Europe between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries: the peasants, or the populace at large, stood for the earthiness and crude joy, while the nobility replaced the primary impulses with refinement and polish. “The court dance was subjected more and more to rules. Contributing to this development was, no doubt, the reliance of the nobility on professional entertainers” (Sorrel, Dance through the Ages, 45).

Further refinements and more popularity came to dance because of Catherine de Medici, a daughter of a great house in Italy who came to France to marry Henry II. “She brought with her a company of musicians and dancers from her native city of Florence to supervise her artistic presentations, and highly impressive they were” (John Martin, The Book of Dance [New York: Tudor Publishing Company, 1963], 26). In 1581, with the expertise of Balthasar de Beaujoyeux (an Italian by birth though bearing a French name), Catherine de Medici produced what is considered the first ballet, Ballet Comigue de la Rein.

The populace was also dancing. Folk dances such as the egg dance, the country Thread-the-Needle, and ring-shaped or choral dances grew in popularity. Labyrinth dances signifying resurrection themes were popular in many parts of the world, sometimes even being incorporated into Christian holidays. At Easter, in the province of Twente, in Oatmarsum, the children danced or processed through the entire town in a serpentine motion singing a very old Easter song:

Hallelujah! The happy melody
Is now sung loud and prettily.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

This dance is sluip-door-kruip-door in Dutch, Magdeburger in German, forandole in French, and the cramignon of Limburg. These also had two other names, taken from Biblical antiquity and the classics: Jericho and labyrinth.

From the Reformation period until the present, the church has experienced many spiritual awakenings or revivals, including the restoration of many New Testament truths. The energies of the clergy, theologians, and even whole denominations has been to embrace and preserve the truths that were being revealed. If the loss of truth or the embrace of heresy propelled the church into the dark ages (which is the prevailing philosophy of church historians), then the converse is also true. Embracing truth is responsible for returning the church to her calling, commission, and glory. Scripture compares truth to walls and salvation (Isa. 26:11; 60:18; Ps. 51:18). The rebuilding of truth is analogous to the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem after captivity, defeat, and judgment (Ezra 9:9; Neh. 2:17; Isa. 26:1). In Israel of old, such restoration was the promised season of release, rejoicing, and dance (Jer. 31:1–13; Neh. 7:1; 12:27–30). Likewise, as the church has experienced reforming and rebuilding, rejoicing and dancing have accompanied each season of restoration. (Below you will find quotes from various revival periods and special religious sects that validate this view.)

A unique group called the Shakers was founded in England in 1747. The term Shaker came from the rapid up-and-down movement of their hands, mostly in their wrists. Shaking the hands with the palms turned upward as if to receive a blessing meant they were expressing the open petition, “Come, life Eternal.” Shaking of the hands with the palms turned downward to the floor was a symbolic motion that they were shaking out all that was carnal.

The Shakers believed that by keeping their inner and outer lives in perfect order they were reflecting the perfect order of God’s kingdom. The practicing Shaker was held accountable to his religion when he stepped out of bed, when he dressed, when he ate when he spoke, and when he worked. Worldly lusts were suppressed by rules: carnality was held at bay by a dress code that insured modesty, by a series of orders restricting the body’s movements and appetites, and by architectural designs that segregated the sexes. Unity was enforced by the requirements of obedience—the submission of the individual to the authority of God’s appointed leaders.

On Sundays the Shakers danced to the honor of God. Their worship—in vivid contrast to the restrained order of their weekday lives—was an exuberant spectacle that veered unpredictably through many hours of the day. Formal dances could at any time break off into spontaneous displays of whirling, weeping, and shaking. Scathing or uplifting sermons were delivered extemporaneously by the elders, or by individual worshipers who were suddenly seized by the power of God and compelled to speak. Throngs of spectators—“the world’s people”—packed the little meetinghouses to be entertained, shocked, or inspired. No one who witnessed Shaker worship, whether horrified or enraptured, ever forgot it.

The first ordered dance of the Shakers, the “Square Order Shuffle” was introduced by Joseph Meacham about 1785. In 1820 a variation was introduced, men and women shuffled forward and backward in a series of parallel lines, weaving, in imaginative designs, a fabric of union and love.

A 19th Century American engraving called “Shakers Dancing” can be seen at the Dance Collection, Performing Arts Research Center, The New York Public Library at Lincoln Center. (Amy Stechler Burns and Ken Burns, “The Shakers,” American History Illustrated [Summer 1988], 27)

During the early 1800s in the slave community, dance was an important part of their worship. A syncretism of African and conventional Western religious beliefs, the praise meeting in the quarters was unique in the United States. While whites might be carried away by religious frenzy at occasional “awakenings,” slaves had an even more intense emotional involvement with their God every week. In contrast to most white churches, a meeting in the quarters was the scene of perpetual motion and constant singing. Robert Anderson recalled that in meetings on his plantation there was much singing. He noted, “While singing these songs, the singers and the entire congregation kept time to the music by the swaying of their bodies, or by the patting of the foot or hand. Practically all of their songs were accompanied by a motion of some kind.” A black plantation preacher testified to the uniqueness of the religion in the quarters when he asserted: “The way in which we worshiped is almost indescribable. The singing was accompanied by a certain ecstasy of motion, clapping of hands, tossing of heads, which would continue without cessation about half an hour; one would lead off in a kind of recitative style, others joining in the chorus. The old house partook of the ecstasy; it rang with their jubilant shouts, and shook in all its joints (John W. Blassingame, The Slave Community [New York: Oxford, 1972]: 27). Two outstanding features of the slave community worship were the “ring shout” and the “juba.” H. G. Spaulding gave an excellent description of the “shout” on the Sea Islands in 1863:

After the praise meeting is over, there usually follows the very singular and impressive performance of the “Shout” or religious dance of the negroes. Three or four, standing still, clapping their hands and beating time with their feet, commence singing in unison one of the peculiar shout melodies, while the others walk round in a ring, in single file, joining also in the song. Soon those in the ring leave off their singing, the others keeping it up the while with increased vigor, and strike into the shout step, observing most accurate time with the music. This step is something halfway between a shuffle and a dance, as difficult for an uninitiated person to describe as to imitate. At the end of each stanza of the song the dancers stop short with a slight stamp on the last note, and then, putting the other foot forward, proceed through the next verse.… The shout is a simple outburst and manifestation of religious fervor—a “rejoicing in the Lord”—making a “joyful noise unto the God of their salvation.” (Blassingame, Slave Community, 65–66)

Accompanying their singing was the practice of the “patting juba.”

When slaves had no musical instruments they achieved a high degree of rhythmic complexity by clapping their hands. Solomon Northup, an accomplished slave musician, observed that in juba the clapping involved “striking the hands on the knees, then stroking the hands together, then stroking the right shoulder with one hand, the left with the other—all the while keeping time with the feet, and singing.… ” Often the rhythmic patterns used in juba were little short of amazing. After viewing a performance in Georgia in 1841, a traveler from Rhode Island observed that, while the slaves were patting juba, it was “really astonishing to witness the rapidity of their motions, their accurate time, and the precision of their music and dance.” (Ibid.)

The world was in a period of change. The Industrial Revolution followed the Reformation changing the character of life as people had known it. Likewise, the reformers continued to bring change to the church. The late 1800s produced a church concerned about holiness, some Christians even seeking a second work of grace called sanctification. Holiness evangelist, pastor, and church leader Ambrose Blackman Crumper, a licensed Methodist Episcopal preacher, was determined to establish the holiness message in his native state of North Carolina. “Everywhere he went, people shouted, danced before the Lord, and ‘fell under the Spirit’ when they received the second blessing.”

The Holiness movement spawned the great outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the turn of the century. Pentecostalism was born on Azusa Street, prompted in part by the Great Welsh Revival. Seekers of the baptism of the Holy Spirit would receive the gift of tongues. “Dancing in the spirit” was often a regular happening at their meetings. Dancing in the spirit is physical movement akin to dancing, presumably done while under the influence and control of the Holy Spirit. “Most older Pentecostal believers who have participated in spiritual revivals over a period of years have witnessed what is known as ‘dancing in the spirit’ ” (Stanley M. Burgess and Gary B. McGee, eds., Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1988], 236). According to the Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, various phrases applied to the dance movements observed in the Pentecostal believers included: holy roller, orgiastic worship, physical agitation, physically demonstrated praises, orgasmic worship, noisy and expressive worship, holy jumpers, and others.

Dancing is a phenomenon closely tied to the fresh encounters with God found in the message of sanctification, baptism of the Holy Spirit, or healing revivals. One famous woman healing evangelist, Maria Woodworth-Etter, whose meetings journal has many accounts of people dancing, had this to say on the subject:

David danced with all his might before the Lord. The word is full of dancing. Where dancing in the Bible is mentioned, it always signified victory for the Lord’s hosts. It was always done to glorify God. The Lord placed the spirit of power and love of the dance in the Church, and wherever the Scripture speaks of dancing it implies that they danced in inspiration, and were moved by the Spirit, and the Lord was always pleased and smiled His approval, but the devil stole it away and made capital of it. In these last days, when God is pouring out His Spirit in great cloudbursts and tidal waves from the floodgates of Heaven, and the great river of life is flooding our spirit and body, and baptizing us with fire and resurrection life, and divine energy, the Lord is doing His acts, His strange acts, and dancing in the Spirit and speaking in other tongues, and many other operations and gifts. The Holy Ghost is confirming the last message of the coming King, with great signs and wonders, and miracles. If you read carefully what the Scripture says about dancing, you will be surprised and will see that singing, music, and dancing has a humble and holy place in the Lord’s Church.… All the great company was blessed but Michael, and she was stricken with barrenness till the day of her death, so you see she sinned in making light of the power of God in the holy dance (just as some do today), and attributed it to the flesh or the devil. They always lost out, and many are in darkness till death. (Maria Woodworth-Etter, A Diary of Signs and Wonders [Tulsa: Harrison House, 1981], 524-525)

The Pentecostal revival was not limited to the United States, but spread quickly to the European continent, bringing with it the Holy Spirit’s gifts, anointing, and also the dance. Between the two world wars, a revival of Christian drama won wide popularity, especially in Germany.

I shall never forget seeing one of these bands of German young people as they produced a thrilling version of the Totentanz (Dance of Death) before a Chinese student-group in Peking. Being chiefly a dance, with music but no words, it spoke an international language; and the intensity of the emotion among these oriental and largely non-Christian observers aroused by this European and thoroughly Christian play was surprising and extraordinary. (Richard H. Ritter, The Arts of the Church [Boston: The Pilgrim Press, 1947], 97-98)

From that time until the present day, dancing has been incorporated by many evangelistic groups. Currently, two outstanding examples are YWAM (Youth With A Mission), founded by Loren Cunningham, and Toymaker’s Dream by Impact Productions. The year 1948 hosted another outpouring of the Holy Spirit known as the Latter Rain Movement. With a strong emphasis on the gifts of the Holy Spirit, laying on of hands, and prophecy, this visitation, like earlier revivals, hosted manifestations of spiritual dancing. Rev. Charlotte Baker, a modern-day prophet and anointed teacher, comments on that outpouring in her book On Eagle’s Wings: “Dancing is not new to the Christian who is familiar with worship in the realm of Pentecostal churches. Since the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the turn of the century, dancing in the Spirit has been a part of Pentecostal praise and worship.” However, a shift began to take place in the understanding of teachers such as Charlotte Baker. Although not doubting the validity of dancing while yielded to the Holy Spirit’s influence, she and others also believed dancing as a voluntary act is a true act of worship. She goes on to comment:

It must be noted, however, “dancing in the Spirit,” the term which has been so widely used throughout the years, is not found in God’s Word. Careful study of the Word reveals that the appropriate expression is dancing before the Lord. For example, David danced before the Lord with all his might at the time of the return of the Ark of the Covenant to Israel. “Dancing in the Spirit” suggests that the Holy Spirit takes hold of the Christian, causing him or her to enter into uncontrollable motions and contortions, all supposedly manifestations of the Spirit. “Dancing before the Lord” suggests the worshiper’s strength, training, and expertise as fully under the control of the dancer, who expresses worship and joy in actions and steps which bring pleasure to the heart of God. While it is true that the believer is admonished to “leap for joy,” it is also true that there are many Scriptures that indicate that intricate steps, marches, group dances, twirling, and twisting were part of the expression of the dance. There is a growing conviction among the people of God that He is most pleased when we offer to Him, as an act of worship, all of our ability whether it be in art, in the dance, or in any other creative expression with which the Lord has blessed us. Every activity of life is designed to become an act of worship. In the past five years, we have seen many gifted dancers come to Jesus for salvation and add to the Body of Christ a wonderful ability to express, in an excellent manner, their worship unto Him in dance. Just as there are those who have been given the ability to sing and to edify the Body through excellence in song, so are there those who have been given the ability to pour out to God a similar ministry through the dance. Room should be made within the worship structure of the Church for the full expression of each individual; such expression should always remain within the confines of the Word and under the leadership of the ministries. (Charlotte E. Baker, On Eagle’s Wings [Shippensburg, Pa.: Destiny Image Publishers, 1990], 101-102)

In the 1950s and 60s, a few churches pioneered new territory in choreographed dancing, pageants, dance troupes, and trained artists. Among these was The King’s Temple in Seattle, Washington, pastored by Rev. Charlotte Baker, a disciple of the late Reg. Layzell, and Living Waters Fellowship in Pasadena, California, pastored by Willard and Ione Glaeser.

By the early 1960s, the charismatic renewal movement was building momentum, sweeping people from every denomination into the outpouring of the Holy Spirit. An outstanding feature of the charismatic meetings was the importance placed on singing Psalms and other Scriptures. “The rise of singing psalms and Scripture songs, as well as the rebirth of dance in worship, in the charismatic movement is directly attributed to Old Testament examples” (Burgess and McGee, Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, 689). Exuberance and freshness marked the worship services: “As in the early days of the Pentecostal revival, it is not unusual to find charismatic worshipers singing, shouting, clapping hands, leaping and even dancing before the Lord as they offer him sincere praise and thanksgiving” (Burgess and McGee, Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, 693).

In 1978 God raised up four men—Rev. Larry Dempsey, Rev. Barry Griffing, Rev. Steve Griffing, and Rev. David Fisher—to begin a teaching worship conference called the International Worship Symposium. This worship seminar, along with one of its offshoots, and the International Feast of Tabernacles Celebration in Jerusalem have done much to encourage local assemblies to begin creative worship in the area of dance.

Dancing in churches currently ranges from simple folk style steps in which whole congregations participate, to traveling professional artists such as Ballet Magnificat. Liturgical dance, the name having been just recently coined to identify the style of dance, is becoming more common.

Practiced by liturgical artists, dance serves and functions as a conduit from the inner workings of the spirit to the outer expression of today’s worship.… dances for the liturgy change with the seasons: fall, winter, spring, and summer match advent, Christmas/Epiphany, Lent/Easter, and Pentecost. Becoming immersed in the cyclical process, a dancer discovers that he or she has become a student of religion. Dances are designed from personal reflections on the spirituality of the liturgical season. Scripture and prayer, mingled with the urgings of the dancer’s soul, and enriched by the experience of life, are shaped through the medium of dance. (Doug Adams and Diane Apostolos-Cappodona, eds., Dance as Religious Studies [New York: Crossroad, 1990], 153-154)

It appears that there is an inescapable link with restoration and rejoicing, with rebuilding and responding—“going forth in the dances of them that make merry” (Jer. 31:4). Indeed “to everything, there is a season.” The season of weeping over our spiritual captivity has come to an end, for He has “turned our mourning into dancing.”

African-American Hymnology

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There are considerable resources for black songs among African-American denominations and churches that are now widely available for churches in every tradition. This article is especially helpful in describing the different types of songs that have developed from the black worship tradition.

Black Methodists, Baptists, Holiness, and Pentecostals, as well as black Episcopalians and Catholics, have each produced their own hymnists and hymnody. Among nineteenth-century black clergy who were also hymnists are Bishop Daniel A. Payne of the African Methodist Episcopal Church and Rev. Benjamin Franklin Wheeler of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church. Among early twentieth-century hymnists were Charles Albert Tindley of the Methodist church, Rev. F. M. Hamilton of the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church, William Rosborough of the National Baptist Convention, USA, and Charles Price Jones of the Church of Christ (Holiness), USA.

The Episcopal church has to its credit such contemporary black hymnists as David Hurd and William Farley Smith. In addition to singing the hymns of the traditional black churches, black Episcopalians have at their disposal complete musical settings of the Communion service by black hymnists. Smith’s setting in the black Episcopalian hymnbook, Lift Every Voice and Sing (New York: Church Hymnal Corp., 1981), is entitled “Communion Music for the Protestant Episcopal Church.” Its eight parts include the Introit, Gloria in Excelsis, the hymns “Hungry and Thirsty” and “Lord, We Come,” Doxology, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, The Lord’s Prayer, and Benediction.

African-American Catholics have at their disposal a distinctive body of hymnody composed by black Catholic hymnists. Included in the hymnal entitled Lead Me, Guide Me: The African American Catholic Hymnal (1987) are not only the standard favorites of the traditional black church but also Edward V. Bonnemere’s jazz-styled “Christ Is Coming: Prepare the Way’ ” (complete with guitar chords) and Fr. Clarence Joseph Rivers’s “Mass Dedicated to the Brotherhood of Man” (1970). Other black Catholic composers represented in this hymnal are Edmund Broussard, Marjorie Gabriel-Borrow, Avon Gillespie, Rawn Harbor, Leon C. Roberts, Grayson Warren Brown, and Edward V. Bonnemere.

Black Methodists, Baptists, Holiness, Pentecostals, Episcopalians, and Catholics also share a body of hymnody that is hardly differentiated doctrinally or denominationally, namely the spirituals and gospel music. The antebellum spirituals may still constitute the largest body of black sacred music in this consortium of black Christians known as the black church. Among the several thousand spirituals handed down to the present generation of black worshipers, spirituals often found in black denominational hymnbooks, are songs reminiscent of the wide range of sentiments felt by the enslaved. There are songs of joy such as “Every Time I Feel the Spirit,” songs of thanksgiving such as “Free at Last,” and songs of praise such as “Ride On, King Jesus.” The spirituals also expressed with unyielding faith the belief that God would repeat on behalf of the Africans enslaved in America the liberating act performed for the biblical Hebrews subjugated in Egypt. Spirituals of this mood include “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel,” “Freedom Train A-Comin’,” “Go Down, Moses,” and “Joshua Fit de Battle of Jericho.”

Also among the spirituals are the “sorrow songs.” These songs, which seem to be individual rather than communal expressions, include “I Been in the Storm So Long,” “Nobody Knows the Trouble I Seen,” and “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child.” Many of the sorrow songs, illustrating the unyielding faith of the enslaved, commence on a low note of dejection but conclude on a high pitch of praise. Two of the very few exceptions to this characteristic are “Were You There” and “He Never Said a Mumbling Word,” both of which show no glimmer of hope. Today, spirituals have been arranged in hymnic, anthemic, and soloistic forms to be sung by the congregation, choir, and trained soloist, respectively. Among the musical arrangers are such historic figures as H. T. Burleigh, R. Nathaniel Dett, and John Wesley Work, Jr., and such contemporary musicians as Verolga Nix and Roland Carter. In whatever form spirituals are arranged—as hymns, anthems, or solo songs—they can be used to complement every phase of the church year.

Complementing the spirituals in the folk, hymnic, and anthemic repertoires of the black church are the songs of racial pride and liberation. The most important song of racial pride is the “Black National Anthem,” J. Rosamond Johnson’s setting of his brother James Weldon Johnson’s poem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” The principal song of liberation, made popular during the civil rights movement, is “We Shall Overcome.” Like numerous civil rights songs, this historic piece is a synthesis and adaptation of extant hymnody. Combining the tune of the old Baptist hymn, “I’ll Be Alright,” and the text of the Methodist gospel hymn, “I’ll Overcome Someday,” the anthem of the civil rights movement is emblematic of how the black oral tradition adapts extant hymns to meet new social and religious needs.

The composer of “I’ll Overcome Someday” is the great Charles Albert Tindley, the creator of such well-known gospel hymns as “We’ll Understand It All By and By.” Many black hymnologists have considered Tindley, a Methodist minister from Philadelphia, to be the most important, if not prolific, hymn writer in the history of the black church. Actually, the most prolific, and certainly one of the most significant, is Charles Price Jones, the founding bishop of the Church of Christ (Holiness), USA. While Tindley composed approximately forty gospel hymns, Jones composed over one thousand hymns (including anthems). Among his hymns is the resplendent “I Will Make the Darkness Light.”

Following the Tindley and Jones era of the gospel hymn (1900–1930) arose what has been called the “golden age of gospel” (1930–1969). This period is represented by the “gospel songs” of such black composers and arrangers as Doris Akers, J. Herbert Brewster, Lucie E. Campbell, James Cleveland, Thomas A. Dorsey, Theodore Frye, Roberta Martin, Kenneth Morris, and Clara Ward. Two of the most famous gospel songs of this period are Campbell’s “He Will Understand and Say ‘Well Done’ ” and Dorsey’s “Precious Lord, Take My Hand.” Together, the musicians of this era transformed the congregational gospel hymn of the Tindley and Jones era into the solo, quartet, and choral gospel song of the “golden” period.

Succeeding the golden age of gospel is the modern gospel era. This has been, from its inception in 1969, dominated by black Pentecostal artists of the Church of God in Christ. Among these artists are Walter Hawkins, Edwin Hawkins, Andrae Crouch, Sandra Crouch, and Elbernita Clark (of the Clark Sisters). Among the popular pieces of this period that have been sung by young adult “inspirational choirs” in the black church are Walter Hawkins’s “Be Grateful” and “He’s That Kind of Friend,” Andrae Crouch’s “Through It All,” and Sandra Crouch’s “Come, Lord Jesus.” Some of their songs have appeared in the black denominational hymnals published since 1980.

Christian hip-hop is the newest form of gospel music. Similar to modern gospel, Christian hip-hop (orginated c. 1989) began as concert rather than liturgical music; it too will likely find its way into the black churches that are seeking to speak to today’s youth. Among hip-hop gospel singers are PID (Preachers in Disguise), ETW (End Time Warriors), SFC (Soldiers for Christ), DC Talk, Witness, D-Boy Rodriguez, Helen Baylor, Michael Peace, and Fresh Fish. These groups often have a message that is experientially oriented. For instance, PID addresses such issues as homelessness, sexually transmitted disease, and racism, and does so in a language that today’s inner-city youths speak and relate to.

The music that falls into the gospel hymn, gospel song, and modern gospel eras still coexists in the black church, and it is unlikely that even the rise of gospel hip-hop would ever change this inclusive nature of the black church music ministry. These three kinds of gospel that continue to co-exist in the black church generally fulfill the three principal liturgical functions in black churches—testimony, worship, and praise. The testimony hymns are used by worshipers to commence their “testifying” during the testimony service, a ritual practiced especially in black Holiness and Pentecostal churches. In testifying, a worshiper stands, sings a verse or two (or the chorus) of a favorite hymn, and then gives her or his spoken testimony. Using the theme and language of the song, the speaker tells the story of how God has worked positively in their lives during the past week. The fact that testimony typically begins with and is thematically built upon a hymn illustrates that these songs have been an essential source of theology for black worshipers over the years of social, political, and economic struggle. One of the favorite testimony hymns of the black church is “Jesus, I’ll Never Forget What You’ve Done for Me.”

The worship and praise songs have a close kinship. The worship hymns do not focus on individual experiences like the testimony hymns, but specifically on the worship of Jesus Christ. Familiar examples of worship songs are “We Have Come Into This House” by Bruce Ballinger and “Bless His Holy Name” by Andrae Crouch. The kindred praise songs are cheerful declarations of exaltation to God, which welcome God’s presence in the life of the believer. Among the best-known songs of praise are “Yes, Lord” and “My Soul Says, ‘Yes.’ ” Both of these were composed by Charles Harrison Mason, the founder of the Church of God in Christ, and are published in that denomination’s first and only hymnal, Yes Lord! (1984). Either during or following the singing of worship and praise songs, Holiness and Pentecostal worshipers may engage in giving the Lord a “wave offering” by means of the “lifting of hands,” or by giving “hand praise” (applause in gratitude for the Lord’s blessings).

Much of the music that is sacred to the tradition of black worship can be found in hymnals compiled by black denominations. Among the most recent and historically important are the American Methodist Episcopal Church Bicentennial Hymnal (1984); The New National Baptist Hymnal (1977) of the National Baptist Convention; His Fullness Songs (1977) of the Church of Christ (Holiness), USA; and Yes. Lord!: The Church of God in Christ Hymnal (1982). Among the important hymnbooks published by the black constituencies of predominantly white denominations are Songs of Zion (1981) from the United Methodist Church; Lift Every Voice and Sing: A Collection of Afro-American Spirituals and Other Songs (1981), from the Episcopal church; and Lead Me, Guide Me: The African American Catholic Hymnal (1987) of the Roman Catholic church.

Charismatic Worship: Responding to the Spirit

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Worship, for Pentecostal and charismatic Christians, is an expression of the experience and empowerment of the Holy Spirit—an event which for many brings the Scriptures to life and continuously incarnates Jesus Christ in his church. The release of a life of praise, intercession, and of spiritual gifts for ministry takes place in the setting of the body of Christ at worship.

Although tongues and interpretation are an important manifestation of the Spirit in the worship of Pentecostals, emphasis is also placed broadly on other gifts of the Spirit, including those of healing and prophecy. The modern Pentecostal movement originated in revivals that occurred in Kansas, Los Angeles, and other places early in the twentieth century. As Pentecostalism came to be perceived as a “dangerous” influence in denominational churches, those who had experienced the revival were often forced to leave their congregations. The formation of Pentecostal churches and denominations was the result. This never seemed to be an explicit goal of Pentecostals, who wished primarily to revitalize their existing churches from within. The emerging bodies did, however, play into holiness movement thinking, and thus even those Pentecostal churches which did not spring from holiness movement roots have often grown from both of these traditions.

On the other hand, the term charismatic carries more generic connotations. Its use has come into vogue more recently, removing the stigma of Pentecostalism from charismatics. In charismatic churches there is a wider variety of understandings regarding the gifts of the Spirit. Charismatics may not be as dogmatic as classical Pentecostals about the need for particular manifestations of these gifts (i.e., tongues) as signs that a person has truly received the Holy Spirit. Emphasis on the spiritual gifts and their use is even more broadly based than with Pentecostals. Thus we can say that all Pentecostals are charismatic but not all charismatics are Pentecostal. Whereas the classical Pentecostal movement has provided Pentecostals with their own churches—even their own denomination—charismatics tend more often to remain in their original denominational churches unless their congregation is antagonistic to their presence.

Can there be such a thing as a theology of charismatic worship? Given the pluralistic profile of faith among charismatic worshipers, what is the starting point or central theme for a consistent theology of charismatic worship? Once discovered is this theology, going to be very different from liturgical theologies developed by Christians in the past? And finally, if we can develop a viable theology of charismatic worship then what sorts of changes in thinking, behavior, public orders of worship, and overall lifestyle would it suggest? The starting place for a theology of charismatic worship should be the common ground of charismatic experience, moving from there to a theology of Christ and the Holy Spirit.

From Experience to Exegesis

The Latin maxim lex orandi lex credendi applies to the development of a charismatic theology of worship. This phrase enunciates the conviction that liturgical experience precedes theology in most cases and that therefore our creeds or beliefs grow more out of our prayer and worship life than the other way around. In reality, of course, experience and belief are continually honing one another, and constants such as the Scriptures provide norms. But because experience is so important to human existence, the way in which worship is conducted can reinforce, shape, or challenge a person’s beliefs.

Charismatics are charismatics because they have had a specific experience. This experience is a vital encounter with Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. Although it is necessary to maintain that all Christians must have contact with the Holy Spirit in order to be Christians, the vitality of charismatic experience, whether sporadic or ongoing, affects lives deeply. We should not be too quick to say that this experience is a dimension added to the relationship with God shared by all Christians. Rather, we would suggest it is a fuller experience of normative Christian existence—one charismatics believe is available to all. Theologically this fullness has far-reaching implications for the gathered worshiping community.

The unfortunate term “full gospel” has been used by Pentecostals and charismatics for years as a way of describing what they believe they have received in their experience, but this term implies that those Christians who rely on the written Word of God alone are somehow missing the mark—that they do not have the whole gospel. We must respect the fact that many charismatics and Pentecostals genuinely feel that those who do not share their experience of God are missing out on something good. We also must respect the fact that their experiences are not invalid. At the same time, we must also emphasize that exclusivity is not of the Holy Spirit—that just as the spiritual gifts themselves differ, so do perceptions and God-given experiences and that it is only by the work of the Holy Spirit in peoples’ lives that they are drawn to a relationship with God in Jesus Christ in the first place. The gentleness, humility, and unity which are characteristic of the Holy Spirit imply that terms like “full gospel,” while well-intended, are inappropriate.

What characteristics of the charismatic experience are shared by all, to one degree or another? These generally cross denominational lines, and most are not unique to charismatics.

First, the Word of God is central to any lasting encounter with God as a Christian, for Christ is the Word of God. The Scriptures are our most reliable reference to this Word today. Charismatics typically have a highly developed personal devotional life that centers on the Word of God and prayer, though these devotions may take on various styles in different church traditions.

Second, openness to the prompting and moving of the Holy Spirit both in oneself and in others is also essential. Scriptural statements like “the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things” (John 14:26), and “the anointing you received from him remains in you, and you do not need anyone to teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about all things and as that anointing is real, not counterfeit—just as it has taught you, remain in him” (1 John 2:27), are taken very seriously. While their implications must be nuanced, the point is that charismatics often feel directives from the Holy Spirit which they believe are consistent with the Word of God.

Third, evangelism, a strong desire to reach others with the gospel message on the love of Christ, and a concern for their own personal holiness is characteristic of charismatics.

Fourth, charismatics also see the need for and legitimacy of exercising the power and authority of Christ and his name in intercession, whether in prayer, healing, exorcisms, evangelism, or general Christian concern. These qualities of charismatic life will find their corresponding expression in public charismatic worship. By means of Lex orandi lex credendi charismatics interpret the Scriptures, the world, their Lord, and each other through the experience of the Holy Spirit with which they have been blessed by God.

In Christ, in the Spirit

“Spirit Christology” aptly describes the practical ecclesiology of a charismatic community at worship. Many consider Christology and ecclesiology to be fields of thought that are essentially separate and distinct from one another, but the unity of Christ and the church is one issue that resounds in charismatic thinking and practice. It also calls for some radical rethinking of ministry in charismatic communities. But this will be discussed later. Foregoing any discussion of “high or low Christology,” we simply affirm what seems evident in the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ baptism that Christ was dependent upon the Holy Spirit to empower him to live out his ministry on earth as God and man. But there is a very important connection to the church here, for Christ made it clear that he must return to the Father so that the Holy Spirit—the Helper, the Paraclete—could come and fill those who were to continue his ministry here on earth.

Theologically speaking, the incarnation is ongoing today. The church is a continuation of Christ, his body in the world, filled and empowered by the Holy Spirit. It is Word-become-flesh just as he is. Just as Mary’s simple openness to the Holy Spirit allowed for the conception and birth of Jesus Christ, so the church when she is receptive to the Holy Spirit conceives and brings forth Christ in the world today. There is one difference that is quite obvious to all: But while the church differs radically from Jesus Christ in its lack of perfect obedience and submission to the triune God, it is also radically the same. Its members are members of Christ. Christ himself has made them so. They are new creations conceived, if you will, by the Holy Spirit. These Christlike lives continue only because of the ongoing presence and ministry of the Holy Spirit.

Charismatics are typically very much in tune with the idea of their total and complete dependence on the person of the Holy Spirit. Just as Christ was and is the “anointed one,” so the body of Christ continues in this same anointing. One cannot truly be in Christ without the anointing of the Holy Spirit. What this means, and what implications derive from such a statement, are items for discussion among charismatics. One struggle for charismatics, particularly those with “holiness” backgrounds, is the attempt to strike a balance between being and becoming. That is, it is the question of how sanctification relates to salvation and ministry and how much of the human response to God’s initiative can be indulged without lapses into legalism and human traditions which go beyond the Scriptures in an effort to maintain the new law of love. By faith Christians must affirm that they have been made members of Christ as grace is freely bestowed upon us by God, not because of anything they are or do or have done. However, we seldom live the lives we claim we have been given in Christ. Much of the reason for this must relate to the human will and the need daily to live out the death of our baptisms in order to become fully regenerate.

But this too is only made possible by the empowerment of the Holy Spirit. Too often Christians with “holiness” backgrounds interpret the gift of the Holy Spirit as something which makes us holy by giving us the power to keep the commandments. This idea takes a giant leap backward from the reality of Christ’s fulfillment of the law and the prophets. It is also a brand of holiness that very selfishly focuses on one’s personal acquisition of holiness rather than the purpose for which holiness has been given. This purpose is ministry—reaching a lost world with the love and healing of Christ. Instead of separating God’s people from the world to a point where interaction with non-Christians is tainted with suspicion and antagonism, true holiness frees us from the bondage that prevents us from ministering to others as Christ did. The goal of holiness is not one we consciously aim for, but one we are given. Now we spend our lives growing into the fullness and the reality of this gift, all the while as we are ministering as Christ in the world. The Spirit-filled life is a dichotomy. Christians are becoming what they already are, and they already are what they are still becoming. The Holy Spirit is what makes both realities possible in peoples’ lives. God freely gives to humans the holiness he demands of us, and our responses to God’s love are as much a part of his initiative as the Incarnation—in fact, they are Incarnation.

More specifically, in the setting of public charismatic worship, Christ’s presence is felt and made manifest. Some have even summed up the phenomenon of charismatic worship with the term “manifest presence.” Presence is clearly an issue in charismatic worship. Even in large crowds of worshipers, intimacy with the person of Christ is made evident as people worship in the Spirit.

People, too, must be present in worship. This does not mean simply that people have to be there physically, in the room; it means they must be making themselves fully present to God even as he is making himself really and fully present to them. In short, people must be honest in order to experience true worship. Part of worshiping in spirit and in truth is being truthful with God and ourselves about our own fallenness. One of the functions of God’s Word is to confront us with God himself, to humble us by comparison with God’s holiness, continually to keep our fallenness before us so that we may throw ourselves upon the mercy of God’s grace realizing, like Paul, that no matter how much good we think we are doing, we are still no better than the chief among sinners. Worshiping in spirit and in truth also means that people must make themselves really and fully present to one another, for it is precisely through people that Christ ministers to our needs. This is one way of walking in the light. Christ in others can often illuminate dark portions of our lives that are hidden even to ourselves. Living the light of Christ lovingly in community is an encouragement to everyone to grow in the Lord and keep the body growing. In this way, Christ’s presence may be felt as profoundly in the kiss of peace as in the Eucharist, and inroads to healing can be made in down-to-earth ways.

Although things are slowly changing, liturgical traditions have historically thought of the culmination of Christ’s presence in the worshiping community in terms of epiklēsis, the “calling down” of the Holy Spirit during the eucharistic prayer to make Christ present in the Eucharist—in the elements of bread and wine and in the gathered community of worshipers. This understanding has, however, the potential of limiting the idea of the real presence of Christ in worship to a kind of Sunday-morning-eucharistic piety. A similar concept, and just as limiting in its own way, is the Pentecostal tradition of a sort of implicit epiklēsis of the Word. At some point in the reading of Scripture, or preaching the speaker (or pastor) reaches a level of anointing where the Word is considered almost to speak for itself; the speaker often becomes very animated, and congregational response is heightened to include uninhibited praise and thanksgiving accompanied in many cases by shouting, clapping, and dancing. Here Christ is felt to have made himself manifest in the spoken Word, and an effort is made by the pastor to discover what is the specific “word” God has for his people that day.

Another practice that is prevalent in many Pentecostal and holiness traditions is the altar call. This, too, is a point of culmination in terms of presence and the anointing of the Spirit. The practice stems from revival and evangelistic meetings where the goal was to bring into the fold of the church the unbelieving and “backsliders.” In Pentecostal and charismatic churches, however, this altar call is often still performed even though there may be few if any unbelievers present. Its purpose has been shifted to the bestowing of the “baptism in the Holy Spirit” (which is seen as a form of Christian initiation) and to ministering to those who wish to rededicate their lives to the Lord.

All three of these practices are, in their proper contexts, fitting and can be positive experiences for the churches in which they occur. But if the presence of Christ or the ministry of the Holy Spirit in the worship of Christians is limited to these three—epiklēsis in Eucharist, “epiklēsis of the Word,” or the altar call—then the full power of Christ’s presence in his people is shackled.

For the charismatic, the idea that the Lord inhabits the praises of his people says much. This is because for those who truly are charismatic all of life has become Eucharist; all of life has become a praise response to God’s initiative of love. The gathered praises of God’s people voiced on Sunday mornings are only symptomatic of a lifelong reality of praise, for by the power of the Holy Spirit every day has become the Lord’s day, every day a day of death and resurrection, every day a day of healing and restoration. Charismatic communities can be thought of as “epicletic communities,” for the lives of people have become instruments for constantly calling upon the Holy Spirit to come and transform into new creation everything that the believer is, says, does, and touches.

Praise, Power and Mission

Epiklēsis leads naturally to intercession. With intercession, we touch on two distinct practices associated with charismatic worship. One is the traditional intercessory prayer time. This may be conducted differently in various churches, but most Christian traditions have in their public worship a time of intercessory prayer. For liturgical charismatics intercession occurs in the prayers of the people prior to Eucharist; for Assembly of God, Pentecostal, or other similar traditions there is typically a time when the pastor leads in intercession for prayer requests that have been made known to him or her, or when people may voice concerns and be prayed for immediately.

The second type of intercession is affected by the praises of God’s people. This concept derives both from a theology of liturgical prayer in Christ and from Old Testament models of warfare conducted by giving praise to God. The essence of Christ is God’s intercession on behalf of his creation, and the same thing may be said of the nation of Israel in Old Testament times. In ancient Israel and in Christ, God intercedes on behalf of humankind. Both Israel and Christ embodied God’s saving presence in the world. This can also be said of the church today. As the Lord inhabits the praises of his people and as human lives become lives of worship and response to God in praise and obedience, intercession takes place. By virtue of their openness to the Holy Spirit, charismatics feel compelled to bring the rest of their life into harmony with their prayer life. God often calls upon his people to bring about the changes he desires. Far from being mere abandonment to the spiritual “high” of the moment, worship calls forth responsibility.

The praises of God’s people have an intercessory impact on the cosmic level as well. As people respond to God in obedience and open themselves to the transforming power of the Holy Spirit, the powers of evil in the world are exorcised and put on the defensive. Obedience to God is the most powerful weapon the Christian is given, for Satan is the personification of disobedience. Christ in contrast was and is obedience. We who are members of Christ, who daily die to sin and the old order that we may be found in him, have been caught up in Christ’s obedience as well. This is not because of what we can do as humans, but it is a gift lovingly bestowed upon us by God, who wishes to make us his children once more. Because Christ is obedience, and because Christ is intercession incarnate, the praises of those who constitute his body in the world are intercessory in nature. More than one Old Testament story relates how the praises of Israel offered to God in obedience resulted in military victory against insurmountable human odds. This is the same power and authority which Christ uses in the lives of his people to transform the world. The enemies faced by those who obey God through their participation in Christ may be conquered by his praises. Malignant spiritual forces that empower disobedient lives are overwhelmed by the opposing forces acting in obedience to God.

Sadly, for many people who call themselves charismatic, power has become an end in itself, and much of the rhetoric of power heard from preachers is little more than self-indulgent emotionalism designed to whip congregations into feeling powerful and then release them into the world to do nothing at all for the kingdom of God.

The whole point of empowerment by the Holy Spirit is it given for the sake of mission. If the worship of the charismatic is the daily life in which Christ is revealed and realized, then evangelism, social action, healing, and spiritual warfare are also going to be daily occurrences. Too often “mission” is depicted as a very limited concept where the emphasis is on verbal evangelism or going to a remote part of the world to reach people for Christ. Unfortunately, when our idea of mission is this small, people are reached with a message, but not necessarily with Christ. The mission of bringing Christ to the world is more than merely speaking the message of the gospel to those who have not heard it before; it is bringing Christ himself to others by touching them as he would touch them. If the only thing the lost are receiving from us in the name of Christ is a message, then they are not really getting the message at all. For charismatics, Christ is all and in all. Worship and mission are one.

The Gifts and the Body

Again, the point of empowerment by the Holy Spirit is mission. This idea must be applied to the gifts of the Spirit as well. The point of spiritual gifts is ministry to and edification of the body so that it can do its job. Spiritual gifts are not given as rewards for having achieved a level of holiness, rather they are bestowed by God in order to help the body move toward the complete holiness to which it is called in Christ. This is why Paul stresses that the gift of tongues, must be made understandable by all, so that all may benefit. Gifts are given for the body, and not just to it.

Unity is an issue in this context as well as in the context of ministry. The uniqueness of the various gifts of the Spirit often overshadows the implied unity which is needed to give them meaning and maximum effect. Often churches in which spiritual gifts are expressed are also plagued by disagreements, divisiveness, and infighting. But such division in the body only means that the gifts are being improperly applied, to the body as a whole. In Romans 12, 1 Corinthians 12, and Ephesians 4 Paul talks about both the gifts of the Spirit and the unity of the body. The gifts make unity necessary in order for maturity to result. Diversity and unity must go together. In fact, our God-given uniqueness should automatically draw us together as we realize that each of us needs what the others in the body have been given by God and that others need what we have been given. It is only pride that declares that one gift is more important than others, and Paul speaks to this problem as well.

It seems curious, then, that anyone should ever have claimed that one particular gift of the Spirit must be manifested in order to prove that a Christian has received the Holy Spirit. In Romans 12 Paul states “as in one body, we have many members, and all the members do not have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them” (vv. 4–6, rsv). It is never implied that all should have any one of the gifts, but rather that grace is given to each person differently. This is even more explicit with Paul’s list of rhetorical questions in 1 Corinthians 12, where he asks, “Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret?” (vv. 29–30, rsv).

With the emphasis on the plurality of the gifts and the need for all of them for the upbuilding of the body of Christ, there also seems to be a gross inconsistency in most charismatic churches regarding ministry. The position of “pastor,” as it is expressed in today’s churches, is more a historical phenomenon than a biblical one. The gift of pastoring or shepherding people may or may not occur in a person who is also able to preach or teach or heal, and so on. Likewise, it should be recognized that good teachers are not always good counselors or evangelists. Nevertheless, today’s pastors in many churches are required to perform all these functions. The assumption seems to be that if one is “anointed enough” to be a pastor, then God will supply all the gifts as they are needed in the ministry. The problem is that the calling of a pastor does not result from an amount of anointing, but from a specific kind of anointing like that experienced by every other member of the body.

Today’s charismatic churches suffer greatly from the American phenomena of individualism, self-sufficiency, and lack of commitment beyond lip-service. Many Christians think like Americans before they are inclined to think as Christians. “Freedom” is drummed into us from birth. No one can make us do anything we don’t want to, because we are Americans. People can believe whatever they want to believe. Unfortunately for God’s work in the world, charismatics are no exception. The result is that we often think that the most important thing about being a Christian is what a person believes. Even conversion to Christianity has become for many merely a decision that has to be made, instead of an entire change of life and orientation which affects everything we do and everyone to whom we relate.

Ministry is the work of the whole body of Christ, not just that of the pastor. People may enter the body of Christ—become Christians—because they are needy, but ultimately there will be work to which these people are called. It is ironic that pastors of charismatic churches end up doing more of everything singlehandedly than pastors of most churches, for here it should be most obvious to people that the whole body needs to minister. Perhaps there is a need for greater organization in ministry. For example, ministry teams could be established in which people with different gifts would lead the worship and administer the various ministries of the churches in a more balanced manner. There is no place in the body of Christ for the personality cults that many charismatic or Pentecostal churches have become.

What is perhaps the biggest puzzle, however, is the exclusivity with which many charismatics look upon Christians of denominations or leanings different from their own. Some even go as far as to assume that Christians of other “non-charismatic” denominations are not Christians at all. It is commonplace in churches of this type, to hear on a missions emphasis Sunday that an entire nation has only a handful of Christians, even though the country is 95 percent Roman Catholic.

“There is one body and one Spirit … one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all” (Eph. 4:4–6). Why then are we not more eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace? If members of Christ are truly united with their head, Christ himself, then they must be at peace with one another, walking in love, imitating Christ who gave himself. This is not true simply of the local church body, but of the body of Christ in the entire world. It is no mistake that there is a marked symmetry between the story in Genesis regarding the tower of Babel, the beginning of different languages and the division in humankind, and the story of the day of Pentecost. At Babel, languages were imposed to divide, to keep sinful humans from becoming like God. At Pentecost, languages were given to reuniting what had been divided for too long, to restore sinful humans not only to the unity with God that was intended from the beginning but also to each other. The point is that as long as Christians are divided, they are violating the spirit of prayer displayed in John 17. There Christ links the Holy Spirit directly to unity among all who believe in him when he says, “As you, Father are in me, and I in you, so also may they be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me. The glory which you gave me I have given them, that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, may they be perfectly one. Then the world will know that you have sent me and that you loved them as you loved me (vv. 21–23, New English Bible).

Unity in the Body of Christ may declare to the world more effectively that Christ is who he says he is than any sermon. Disunity has no place among those who claim to be charismatic Christians, for the Holy Spirit desires that we be like Christ in our daily dying to ourselves. We who want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death have no place judging others.

Conclusion

For the charismatic Christian, all of life is worship. Because of Christ’s gift of redemption and the Holy Spirit who allows us to participate in God himself, we are caught up in a mystery and are empowered to convey this mystery in ministry just as Jesus Christ did in the flesh. He conveys this mystery in our flesh by the Holy Spirit.

Charismatics look forward to the day when all will stand in God’s presence and together with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven sing, “Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest. Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!”

Our calling here, however, is to remain steadfast, living in this world and declaring that someday is now, that heaven is here, that we are blessed to be in Christ, who is one with the Father. God’s presence is where we are already standing.

Charismatic Gifts in Early Christian Worship

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The New Testament spiritual gifts—especially prophecy, tongues, and interpretation, along with healing—continued to manifest themselves in the life of the church up to and beyond the fourth century. Evidence in the literature from this period indicates that these gifts were respected among the “established” church leadership, referred to by important theologians, and practiced especially throughout the “underground” church.

The question of spiritual gifts in worship has become a crucial issue as a result of the rise of the twentieth-century Pentecostal and charismatic movements. Prior to the twentieth century, most scholars and pastors relegated the spiritual gifts to the first century and explained them as witnesses to the supernatural character of Jesus’ ministry. It was argued that the gifts ceased to be available to the church at the close of the apostolic age.

Research into the writings of the first three centuries of the church demonstrates that this presupposition regarding the gifts of the spirit to be inaccurate. This chapter presents material from church Fathers representing different ecclesiastical centers, all of whom refer both directly and indirectly to the experience of charismatic gifts.

Gifts of the Spirit in the Earliest Church

The New Testament Christian community was keenly attuned to the Holy Spirit. Jerusalem, Caesarea, Antioch, Ephesus, Thessalonica, Corinth, and Rome all had seen dramatic spiritual power demonstrated among Christians. In addition, the Petrine community and that behind the letter to the Hebrews were familiar with experiences of the Spirit. In New Testament Christianity, the spiritually extraordinary was commonplace.

The central passages of Scripture on the spiritual gifts are Romans 12 and 1 Corinthians 12–14. One can define a gift of the Spirit as an occasional, unusual ability, given by God, which enables a person to minister effectively and directly in a particular situation. It is a moment when God’s presence and compassion are manifested by God’s responding to human needs through another human being.

In exploring the life of the church between approximately a.d. 90 and 320, one dominant observation regarding the gifts of the Spirit emerges: evidence of the ongoing presence of spiritual gifts among Christians appears at least until the middle of the third century

The life of the church up to a.d. 150 was in a state of creative flux. In the midst of dispersion and growth, Christians grappled with issues of social status, community structure, doctrine, and worship. Throughout it all, the gifts of the Spirit continued as a feature of corporate experience.

The general tone of Christianity in Syria is expressed in the Odes of Solomon. This second-century document is a creation of rich poetic expression. More importantly, the Odes have a decidedly prophetic tenor. There is an intense feeling of rapture about the Odes. The author had experienced ineffable encounters with God, but felt constrained to share the impressions gained through those experiences. The author was conscious of having received a “word” from God that she or he must relate to others.

A similar spiritual climate is to be found in the Didachē, which arose from approximately the same time and place as the Odes. However, the Didachē does not enshrine the exuberance of an enraptured soul the way the Odes do. The Odes are an individual expression, whereas the Didachē is an ecclesiastical manual. There is a concreteness about the Didachē, a narrowing of focus, and the appearance of structure within the Christianity of a particular area.

There were itinerants who were identified as prophets, and their ministry was valued highly. In the context of the Eucharist, prophets were to be permitted to “ … give thanks as much as they wish” (Didachē 10.7), and when they were “ … speaking in the Spirit” (11:7), they were not to be judged. However, besides them existed locally chosen bishops and deacons (15:1–2), and the prophets were already encountering suspicion (1–2, 8).

At Antioch in Syria, the impulse of structure and the impulse of the Spirit were wedded in the person of Ignatius. As bishop of the church in that city, Ignatius argued for the recognition of the episcopal office and also spoke prophetically (Philadelphians 7.1–2). The church in Syria was working through a structural metamorphosis while at the same time being prodded and stirred by spiritual gifts.

Conditions in the West were comparable. From Rome, Clement strongly advised the church in Corinth to respect its leaders. In the same letter, he urged it to recognize what God might do through people by means of the gifts of the Spirit (I Clement 38.2). The enigmatic Shepherd of Hermas contributes to the pictures by showing that distinguishing among prophets was a major issue among second-century Roman Christians (43.1–21).

These admittedly sparse sources from the church of the first half of the second century do give glimpses of the Christian experience. They show that worship and ministry under the direction of the Spirit were well known by many Christians.

Gifts of the Spirit and the Church “Establishment”

The term established is hackneyed, but it arouses the correct images: the official world of power, decisions, and patriarchal control. The issues that concerned the establishment centered around identifying truth and then guarding it. This was precisely the world we today regard as inimical to extraordinary spiritual phenomena and behavior. In the second and third centuries, it was not.

The list of people relevant here includes Irenaeus, who defended the faith against second-century Gnosticism in what is now France; Hippolytus and Novatia, third-century conservatives who both led factions that split from the “progressive” Roman church; Cyprian, the Carthaginian martyr, and ecclesiologist; Dionysius, irenic late third-century bishop of Alexandria; and Firmilian, third-century bishop of Cappadocian Caesarea.

The information they provide is fascinating. Irenaeus knew of healings, prophecy, tongues, exorcisms, and even resurrections from the dead (Against Heresies, II, 49:3 and V, 6:1). He thought one could not begin to count the number of spiritual manifestations that occurred among Christians. Both Hippolytus (Apostolic Tradition 15.1 and 35.3) and Novatia (Concerning the Trinity 29) were familiar with spiritual gifts. They talk about tongues, healing, and prophecy.

The mid-third century Carthaginian church was charismatically alive. Its bishop, Cyprian, was known as a prophet (Letter 78, 2), and he valued dreams, visions, and prophecy (Letters 16, 4, and 66, 10 and Concerning Mortality 19). Dionysius and Firmilian do not bear conclusive witness to ministry through spiritual gifts, but they demonstrate that an open climate persisted in their parts of the church. Down to the middle of the third century, the ecclesiastical establishment showed a remarkable degree of comfort with the gifts of the Spirit.

Gifts of the Spirit in the “Underground” Church

Beneath the official world of the ante-Nicene church was a vibrant but (to us) invisible Christianity. These people have been banished to the shadows by history for many reasons: the fact that their ideas were, in varying degrees, unusual and different from those of other Christians; a perceived threat to the developing authority structures; and the greater role given female leadership.

The first part of this underground Christianity to note is a movement known as Montanism. This movement alarmed the second-century church in what is now central Turkey. The sources show that it had extreme views on certain issues, but it is difficult to find any real heresy.

Montanism was a prophetic movement led by Montanus, Maximila, and Priscilla whose view of prophecy was, in fact, not greatly different from what was common in the church at large. The Montanists also spoke in tongues.

Flourishing at the same time as Montanism were the people who produced what we know as the apocryphal Acts of the Apostles. A strong case is currently being made by several authors for the female authorship of these documents. Whichever the gender of their authors, these rough echoes of the canonical Acts lift the lid off the “shadow” church.

There is little that is truly historical in these moralistic novels, but they open windows into the vivid religious imagination of the ordinary Christian of the era. What one sees is a mind completely comfortable with the unapologetically fabulous. Here are wonder-working apostles, magnificent female heroes, and particularly germane to this study, prophecy, tongues, and healings.

The last person to be considered here is Theodotus. He illustrates just how marginalized non-conforming Christians became. Belonging to a syncretistic, exotic Gnostic group known as the Valentinians, he wrote in the second century. His work has largely vanished; scraps of his thinking are preserved only in the notes someone made while studying him. What is of importance is his clear statement that prophecy and healing were common within the group of which he was a member (Clement of Alexandria, Excerpts of Theodotus, 24, 1).

The picture that emerges from the “shadow church” is intriguing. Theodotus was active in the second century; the Montanists and the apocryphal Acts appeared then, then continued into the third. They, and others, constituted a heterogeneous but vibrant strain of Christianity that was gradually forced to the periphery. However, these Christians were most comfortable with spiritual gifts and extraordinary acts of God.

The Theologians and the Gifts of the Spirit

The last stream of early Christianity to be tapped is composed of the theologians who were unconsciously forging that ambiguous relationship with the church in which theologians have found themselves ever since. The church has never stigmatized the following three theologians as heretics, but it has accepted them only with reservations. Their restless minds led them into strange places. Justin wanted to baptize Socrates; Tertullian embraced a wild-eyed rigorism and “the new prophecy” (Montanism), and Origen speculated about the pre-existence of souls. All three knew the gifts of the Spirit.

Justin’s work clearly records the gifts as parts of his second-century church. He even tendered some theological reflection upon them. The gifts of the Spirit had been gathered from the Jews, localized in Christ, then distributed among Christians (Dialogue with Trypho, 87 and 88).

Tertullian provided solid evidence for the widespread practice of the gifts among Carthaginian Christians in the early third century. Evidence for the gifts of the Spirit come from all parts of his literary career, early and late. If there was a “conversion” to Montanism for Tertullian somewhere in mid-life, it did not change his thinking or his observations about the place of spiritual gifts.

Finally, Origen provides considerable information about Christian religious experience in a work known as Against Celsus. Celsus, a pagan philosopher of the mid-second century, had met Christians who spoke in tongues and prophesied (Against Celsus 7, 9). He worked his experience with these people into a scathing attack on Christianity.

Around a.d. 248, Origen responded to Celsus’ comments about these Christians. As he did so, he demonstrated that the gifts of the Spirit were known in the third century over the wide geographical area with which he was familiar. Origen talked about “traces” of spiritual gifts, but occasionally, he indicates that these traces were substantial in reference to miracles, prophecy, and exorcism. (Against Celsus 1, 2; 2, 8; and 7, 8).

Like the “shadow Christians” and those who bore the burden of leadership, theologians among the early Christians were touched to varying degrees by the charismatic phenomena. The cumulative weight of the evidence available from the late first century to the early fourth century would suggest that throughout this period the gifts of the Spirit played a significant role in the Christian experience.

Deliverance from Demons in the Early Church

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While not regularly practiced in all segments of the charismatic and Pentecostal community, deliverance ministry is prominently featured within some circles. Most leaders within the movement acknowledge its validity as a legitimate continuation of the ministry of Jesus and the apostles.

The rise of the charismatic movement in the 1960s engendered a corresponding increase in the practice of casting out demons. Attuned as they are to supernatural realities, charismatics take seriously the presence and influence of demonic powers in the lives of both Christians and unbelievers. It is not difficult to locate biblical support for the casting out of demons. Jesus himself is reported to have cast evil spirits out of a great number of people as he went about healing the sick. This is one of the specific areas of ministry he delegated to his disciples (Matt. 10:1, 7–8) and to all believers (Mark 16:17), along with preaching the good news, healing the sick, and raising the dead.

In some biblical narratives the presence of a demon is related to physical illness (Mark 1:23–26; Luke 9:38–42; 13:32), while in others it results in bizarre behavior, violence, divination, and the like (Matt. 8:28–32; Luke 4:33–34; Acts 16:16). In accordance with these precedents, charismatics often view intractable behavior patterns, incurable illnesses, social evils, and other problems as having their origin in demonic activity. The key to curing the difficulty is commanding the demon, by the authority of Jesus Christ, to depart from the afflicted person, group, or social system, using the New Testament accounts as a pattern.

Deliverance can and often does take place in the context of public worship. Sometimes entire services or conferences are specifically convened to deal with demonic activity and engage in spiritual warfare, and within the Pentecostal/charismatic community a significant number of ministries have arisen that specialize in deliverance. (The term exorcism is rarely used to describe this activity.)

A typical deliverance service will begin with praise and worship, after which those persons with severe problems are invited to approach the altar for prayer. The minister or another Christian worker may ask the nature of the problem or might receive a supernatural revelation about it through a word of knowledge. Sometimes the demon will be asked to identify himself. The minister then lays hands on the head of the afflicted person and commands the demon to come out in the name of Jesus. It is not uncommon for the person being delivered to cough or even vomit up a phlegm-like substance or to fall on the floor, at which point the demon is said to have departed.

Although most Pentecostals and charismatics accept the validity of deliverance ministry, not all of them practice it on a regular basis or in the same way. Some believe that Christians may be subject to demonic influence and need deliverance; others vehemently deny that anyone who has the Holy Spirit can be oppressed by other spirits. There is a stated reluctance in many circles to accord prominence to Satan by calling attention to him and his hordes. Many charismatics prefer to engage in spiritual warfare through worship, which lifts up the person of Jesus Christ instead.