It was the late 1960s and early 70s. Churches were booming all over the world. Christians were transformed. Lives were changed. If we ask those who lived through that period, most of them will tell you that it had something to do with the "baptism of the Holy Spirit." So what is this "baptism of the Holy Spirit"?
The expressions "baptism of the Holy Spirit" or "baptised in the Spirit" do not occur in the Bible. There continues, in fact, to be many Christian leaders and teachers who deny the phenomenon is real or that such a concept can be found in the Bible at all. And if they are neither real, whether phenomenally or conceptually, it is hardly that such a thing would or could be said to be necessary for the Christian believer.
So, what is the "baptism of the Holy Spirit"?
The "baptism of the Holy Spirit" refers to a powerful, deeply personal, and unique experience of the presence and embrace of the Holy Spirit at some point in the—usually 'spiritually' early—life of the believer, that is usually attended by some outward spiritual manifestations. Some Christian groups insist that one of these manifestations has to be the gift of tongues (i.e., the ability to speak, miraculously, in a language one has never learnt before. When such a Christian has experienced this, she is said to have been "baptized in the Spirit." In the older fashion of things, she is also said to have become "charismatic" (awful though is the label).
This much can be safely said about subject. Beyond this, however, the discussion can become touchy, and diametrically different, depending on whether you are a "believer" in baptism of the Holy Spirit, or not.
Let me, therefore, tell you something of my background so that you may decide whether to continue reading this or not. I can only promise you I will act in my writing on and discussion of this subject as fairly and honestly with the facts of facts and of Scriptures before you.
I came from a typical Buddhist/Taoist Chinese family. I came to know Christ and made a decision to be his follower at the end of my first year in university. Just prior to that I could be said, if I was conscious of it at all, to be a staunch Darwinist. His burial place in Westminster Abbey was one of the first places I visited as soon I arrived in London to begin my studies. When a fellow Christian found me and decided that I needed to be discipled, I had no Bible knowledge I could be said to possess, even though, being the 'liberal man of science' that I thought I was I owned a Bible and had read bits and pieces of it (not that it made any sense). I had actually bought the Bible in order to snuff off Christians; they cannot say that I have not read the Bible and was, therefore, speaking from ignorance (they could, because I was still ignorant, but they didn't know that). My 'mentor' was a brilliant man; a PhD candidate at Cambridge U, he started our Bible-study together with Romans. I would use my paperback RSV, he would use a Greek Bible; when he read from his Bible, however, English came out. He, and the first pastor I came to know, both encouraged me to read widely and diversely. "If you read a book published by Fountain Trust [which promoted the baptism of the Holy Spirit]," both of them would impress upon me, "read another from Banner of Truth Trust or from Tyndale [neither of which were encouraging of the baptism]." That year was the first time in my life when my devour of books began.
That first year of my Christian life also witnessed a series of spiritual experiences, almost all of them when I was alone. One night a "form" —that was all I could find to describe it—appeared beside my bed, then yanked me physically out of my bed and thrust my neck against the radiator. Another evening I felt a presence in the room—you know the sort of thing you recognize, when you are praying and someone comes into the room even though he remains absolutely quiet—but it was an unpleasant presence. As the night got on, my room began to fill with voices, cursings and swearing, and all my plentiful sins were declared clearly to me. Then it got physical and I began to struggle with this 'thing,' and soon found I was battling it for something that I recognized was me (like the half-transparent image of a person in the old b-and-w movies leaving his body when he dies), while the screaming and cursings rose in volume like I was at a concert hall where a hard metal band was playing. I knew I was losing the battle and soon it would be done for. Then streaming from behind the roar of the screaming, a soft voice sang. Just one phrase, "Jesus is Lord." Just as I thought I could go on no longer, I uttered, "Jesus, save me." Suddenly the entire room went silent and still, and I fell into the deepest restful sleep, catching a glimpse of the magnificent magnolia tree in bloom just beyond my window before doing so.
There were several others but let me relate how I came to "speak in tongues." This happened soon after I was baptised at Easter. Two friends and I had decided we would spend some time in prayers together. We went to the church's library and kneeling down on the carpeted floor we began to pray, interspersing our prayers with songs. Then I opened my eyes, and my, the whole library was on fire, flames licking up my friends and all. Amazing for me was that my two friends also had their eyes open; so if the place was on fire they did not seemed perturbed by it. I, on the other hand, panicked and starting to say something meaningful that such panic never enabled. Instead, strange sounds, a new language, streamed from me. My friends, I presume, would have heard me but they did nothing. I was becalmed. And then the flames were gone, and peace filled the room. My friends could only tell me afterwards that I had "spoken in tongues" but could not say very much else about the rest though it was not the first time for them. Good friends, not so good as teachers. What happened next taught me a great deal about the church I was then worshipping in.
I decided I needed to understand what it was that I had experiences. The next day I went to see one of the pastors in the church. I related to him the events of the previous day. He kept quiet all the while I was talking. His response when it cam astounded me. "Please forgive me, brother," he said. He should, he said, have taught me clearly about such things earlier but had failed to do so. Then he began with Scriptures and took me through it to help me understand what was happening. He was, of course, a Fountain Trust-Banner of Truth Trust-InterVarsity person himself. That day he set me the example of what a balanced teacher should be like, and what I should do about searching the Scriptures. Until that day I had only concentrated on Romans. After that, reading, not just Acts, but all the rest in large chunk became a life-time habit. Yes, my reading repertoire also began to spread wings, so much that it caused a Bible college lecturer some consternation when I asked a friend studying at the college if he would borrow—riding on his borrowing privileges—a book for me. He could not find the book in the college's library, and as the the principal just happened to be around, my friend asked him if he had copy. The princial turned to him and asked, "What in the world does your friend want such a book for?" (It was a privilege to share the platform with the principal at a conference in the UK about a decade later).
I think that is more than sufficient background about me for you to decide if you still want to read the rest of this article.
Low Chai Hok
©Alberith, 2017