Last month I wrote an online editorial in which I waved a red flag and asked some difficult questions about the long-term impact of the Brownsville Revival, one of the most profound movements in modern American religious history. My questions focused on why the Pentecostal church that hosted this amazing spiritual eruption—which lasted from June 1995 until at least 2001—is now struggling and in debt.

 

I was not prepared for the reaction. Some people called me to say they couldn’t believe I was “attacking the revival.” Others accused me of sowing discord. A few sounded like they were ready to call down fire and brimstone.

 

 

Even though I made it clear that I was deeply and personally touched during my many visits to Brownsville Assembly of God in Pensacola, Fla., and that I treasure what God did there, some members of the church interpreted my remarks as criticism—as if I were rejoicing that the congregation is struggling and that some of their members have quit church altogether.

 

I am not rejoicing.

 

I have nothing but respect for this awesome church. Before the revival erupted on Father’s Day of 1995, Brownsville was a typical Southern church in a sleepy Southern town. But when revivalist Steve Hill began his nightly services and long lines began to form at the front door, the church became a household name and Pensacola earned its place on the map.

 

Then came the international scrutiny. Newspaper reporters sat on the front rows. TV camera crews shot footage of worshipers swooning at the altar. Busloads of teenagers from churches all over the country came nightly to see drug addicts testify about salvation.

 

The curious seekers came by the thousands week after week. They wore out Brownsville’s carpeting, put extra wear and tear on its furniture and dumped trash in its parking lots. The crowds forced the church to build a new family life center so that the visitors could be comfortably seated.

 

Most Brownsville members recognized that God was doing something sovereign in their midst. They gave and gave and gave. They didn’t want to get in the way of the revival, hinder it or control it. They simply hosted a visitation of the Holy Spirit—one that has already been recorded in the history books.

 

Like many other historic revivals, this one lost momentum after about five years. In Brownsville’s case, when the crowds got thinner the offerings declined as well. There wasn’t enough money to pay for the extra building projects, maintain the school of ministry or keep everyone on payroll. To complicate things, leadership abruptly changed twice—leaving some congregants feeling lost, neglected or betrayed.

 

I am not pointing my finger at any one individual to bring blame. But I do think it is necessary for us to ask the hard questions about revival. Does every move of God have to end like this? Is there a way to properly shepherd a church through the phases of revival so that we can avoid burnout, disillusionment and spiritual shipwreck?

 

I guess I am the bad guy for asking these questions.