BAPTISM OF THE HOLY GHOST
I recalled the day Mother had come home from Hamburg after receiving the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I recalled how she had hugged me and how the fountain of love had poured from her very soul into mine. Until that bright day, I had felt that she would rather give me a good hiding than give me a hug. Suddenly, she had loved me without condition, and I felt that God must have loved me in the same way. I wept at the memory of it. Now, I had betrayed that outpouring of love. I no longer deserved it, from Mother or from God. How would I ever rise above my own sinfulness?
The first day of the rest of my life happened in 1951, the day I received the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I was still eleven years old. A special guest speaker came to Glückstadt from Finland. His name was Pastor Arthur Kukkula, and he was well known for leading people in receiving this gift. Rather than have a seekers meeting in the main hall, the local believers decided to have him come to a smaller gathering held in a home in the rural countryside. I had been to that house many times for Sunday dinner after church. It was one of my favorite places on earth.
This particular farmhouse was a bit of heaven because the family had rigged a rope swing with a spare tire on the end. Anchored on a giant oak limb, the arc of the swing would send the rider out over an embankment. You could feel your stomach come up in your throat as the ground dropped away beneath you. I had spent many hours on that swing. I couldn’t get enough of it. In the back of my mind I thought that maybe I could go to the cottage prayer meeting and stay outside riding the best thrill ride in Glückstadt.
“Reinhard, you said you wanted the baptism like your mother. Why don’t you go with me to this meeting?”
I was shocked. My father was asking me to go.
Immediately, I felt condemned by my worldly thoughts.
Instead of thinking of this meeting as my opportunity to receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit, I had been fantasizing about riding the swing. It was so typical of my naughtiness and my unholiness.
“No, Hermann,” Mother quickly spoke up. “I hardly think Reinhard is ready for such an experience.”
“Mother is right,” I agreed. “I will stay home.”
For some reason, Dad did not accept this answer. Maybe God was beginning to speak to him about me.
I wonder. “This does not sound like my Reinhard,” he said. “He is always talking about needing the baptism for his calling to Africa. Reverend Arthur Kukula is here, Meta. We should not ignore this opportunity. Besides, the Lord Jesus Himself is the Baptizer with the Holy Ghost. If He desires to baptize Reinhard, who are we to stand in His way?”
And so I went with him. As we walked toward the farmhouse, I struggled with my feelings of unworthiness.
How would God stoop to fill such a wayward boy like me with the Holy Spirit? I was surely not to be trusted with His priceless gift.
When we arrived at the house we could hear singing.
Outside, the great swing in the oak tree swayed silently in the breeze, accusing me of my tendency toward worldly thoughts. I turned away from it, fervently asking God to forgive me, and followed my father into the house.
As soon as I entered the room with those saints, I felt something begin to tingle inside of me. Incredibly, it was a growing expectation that I would receive the gift of the baptism this evening.
My heart trembled to think that God would do such a thing. Reinhard the null boy, the worldly boy, the naughty boy, would be visited by the power of the Holy Spirit! I began to be excited, and I felt broken inside.
It was a good feeling because I felt broken before God, and I began to sense His love for me as a broken boy.
Surely this gift would lift me above the string of failures I had wracked up.
As Arthur Kukula spoke, my faith leapt up and shouted “yes” within me. The words of Scripture seemed to come alive in my chest. Suddenly the entire experience was no longer about me. It was about God and His great love for His children. When Arthur invited those seeking the Holy Spirit to kneel and pray I did so immediately. No sooner had I reached my knees than I was overwhelmed with an incredible sensation. No one needed to lay hands on me to pray. I received the gift of speaking in tongues spontaneously and burst out in a heavenly language.
How can I describe it?
Let me say first of all that there are many who have experienced the Spirit baptism in a quieter and less dramatic fashion. What follows is not a “how to” receive. It is a description of how it happened to me at the age of eleven.
It seemed to come from beyond me and from within me at the same time. My mind began to receive a stream of pure light and love from the very throne of God. It flowed over me and went straight through me at once. This was far more than a mere bolt of electricity. It was as if every cell in my body was being saved, healed, and invigorated by a surge of divine power.
The word love is inadequate to describe it because that word has been so abused and misused. Yet that is what the power and Spirit of God is – His pure, selfless agape love poured into us. It has nothing to do with transient human love. It reminds me of the prayer Jesus prayed at the Last Supper: … that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them. All of my disappointments, feelings of unworthiness, and condemnation were swept away and forgotten.
The heavenly tongue cascading from my lips was the outer expression of something flowing within me that was too wonderful for normal language. Between my spirit and God’s Spirit great mysteries were being exchanged. Paul spoke of the peace of God that passes understanding. Some blessings from God are beyond intellect. Spirit baptism is one of them. People who limit God to mere human rationality will never know this power and this ecstasy.
As the Spirit flowed, I was being transformed from my human limitations to a place where all things were possible.
I recalled the day Mother had come home from Hamburg after receiving the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I recalled how she had hugged me and how the fountain of love had poured from her very soul into mine. Until that bright day, I had felt that she would rather give me a good hiding than give me a hug. Suddenly, she had loved me without condition, and I felt that God must have loved me in the same way. I wept at the memory of it. Now, I had betrayed that outpouring of love. I no longer deserved it, from Mother or from God. How would I ever rise above my own sinfulness?
The first day of the rest of my life happened in 1951, the day I received the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I was still eleven years old. A special guest speaker came to Glückstadt from Finland. His name was Pastor Arthur Kukkula, and he was well known for leading people in receiving this gift. Rather than have a seekers meeting in the main hall, the local believers decided to have him come to a smaller gathering held in a home in the rural countryside. I had been to that house many times for Sunday dinner after church. It was one of my favorite places on earth.
This particular farmhouse was a bit of heaven because the family had rigged a rope swing with a spare tire on the end. Anchored on a giant oak limb, the arc of the swing would send the rider out over an embankment. You could feel your stomach come up in your throat as the ground dropped away beneath you. I had spent many hours on that swing. I couldn’t get enough of it. In the back of my mind I thought that maybe I could go to the cottage prayer meeting and stay outside riding the best thrill ride in Glückstadt.
“Reinhard, you said you wanted the baptism like your mother. Why don’t you go with me to this meeting?”
I was shocked. My father was asking me to go.
Immediately, I felt condemned by my worldly thoughts.
Instead of thinking of this meeting as my opportunity to receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit, I had been fantasizing about riding the swing. It was so typical of my naughtiness and my unholiness.
“No, Hermann,” Mother quickly spoke up. “I hardly think Reinhard is ready for such an experience.”
“Mother is right,” I agreed. “I will stay home.”
For some reason, Dad did not accept this answer. Maybe God was beginning to speak to him about me.
I wonder. “This does not sound like my Reinhard,” he said. “He is always talking about needing the baptism for his calling to Africa. Reverend Arthur Kukula is here, Meta. We should not ignore this opportunity. Besides, the Lord Jesus Himself is the Baptizer with the Holy Ghost. If He desires to baptize Reinhard, who are we to stand in His way?”
And so I went with him. As we walked toward the farmhouse, I struggled with my feelings of unworthiness.
How would God stoop to fill such a wayward boy like me with the Holy Spirit? I was surely not to be trusted with His priceless gift.
When we arrived at the house we could hear singing.
Outside, the great swing in the oak tree swayed silently in the breeze, accusing me of my tendency toward worldly thoughts. I turned away from it, fervently asking God to forgive me, and followed my father into the house.
As soon as I entered the room with those saints, I felt something begin to tingle inside of me. Incredibly, it was a growing expectation that I would receive the gift of the baptism this evening.
My heart trembled to think that God would do such a thing. Reinhard the null boy, the worldly boy, the naughty boy, would be visited by the power of the Holy Spirit! I began to be excited, and I felt broken inside.
It was a good feeling because I felt broken before God, and I began to sense His love for me as a broken boy.
Surely this gift would lift me above the string of failures I had wracked up.
As Arthur Kukula spoke, my faith leapt up and shouted “yes” within me. The words of Scripture seemed to come alive in my chest. Suddenly the entire experience was no longer about me. It was about God and His great love for His children. When Arthur invited those seeking the Holy Spirit to kneel and pray I did so immediately. No sooner had I reached my knees than I was overwhelmed with an incredible sensation. No one needed to lay hands on me to pray. I received the gift of speaking in tongues spontaneously and burst out in a heavenly language.
How can I describe it?
Let me say first of all that there are many who have experienced the Spirit baptism in a quieter and less dramatic fashion. What follows is not a “how to” receive. It is a description of how it happened to me at the age of eleven.
It seemed to come from beyond me and from within me at the same time. My mind began to receive a stream of pure light and love from the very throne of God. It flowed over me and went straight through me at once. This was far more than a mere bolt of electricity. It was as if every cell in my body was being saved, healed, and invigorated by a surge of divine power.
The word love is inadequate to describe it because that word has been so abused and misused. Yet that is what the power and Spirit of God is – His pure, selfless agape love poured into us. It has nothing to do with transient human love. It reminds me of the prayer Jesus prayed at the Last Supper: … that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them. All of my disappointments, feelings of unworthiness, and condemnation were swept away and forgotten.
The heavenly tongue cascading from my lips was the outer expression of something flowing within me that was too wonderful for normal language. Between my spirit and God’s Spirit great mysteries were being exchanged. Paul spoke of the peace of God that passes understanding. Some blessings from God are beyond intellect. Spirit baptism is one of them. People who limit God to mere human rationality will never know this power and this ecstasy.
As the Spirit flowed, I was being transformed from my human limitations to a place where all things were possible.
BAPTISM OF THE HOLY GHOST ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฅ
I recalled the day Mother had come home from Hamburg after receiving the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I recalled how she had hugged me and how the fountain of love had poured from her very soul into mine. Until that bright day, I had felt that she would rather give me a good hiding than give me a hug. Suddenly, she had loved me without condition, and I felt that God must have loved me in the same way. I wept at the memory of it. Now, I had betrayed that outpouring of love. I no longer deserved it, from Mother or from God. How would I ever rise above my own sinfulness?
The first day of the rest of my life happened in 1951, the day I received the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I was still eleven years old. A special guest speaker came to Glückstadt from Finland. His name was Pastor Arthur Kukkula, and he was well known for leading people in receiving this gift. Rather than have a seekers meeting in the main hall, the local believers decided to have him come to a smaller gathering held in a home in the rural countryside. I had been to that house many times for Sunday dinner after church. It was one of my favorite places on earth.
This particular farmhouse was a bit of heaven because the family had rigged a rope swing with a spare tire on the end. Anchored on a giant oak limb, the arc of the swing would send the rider out over an embankment. You could feel your stomach come up in your throat as the ground dropped away beneath you. I had spent many hours on that swing. I couldn’t get enough of it. In the back of my mind I thought that maybe I could go to the cottage prayer meeting and stay outside riding the best thrill ride in Glückstadt.
“Reinhard, you said you wanted the baptism like your mother. Why don’t you go with me to this meeting?”
I was shocked. My father was asking me to go.
Immediately, I felt condemned by my worldly thoughts.
Instead of thinking of this meeting as my opportunity to receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit, I had been fantasizing about riding the swing. It was so typical of my naughtiness and my unholiness.
“No, Hermann,” Mother quickly spoke up. “I hardly think Reinhard is ready for such an experience.”
“Mother is right,” I agreed. “I will stay home.”
For some reason, Dad did not accept this answer. Maybe God was beginning to speak to him about me.
I wonder. “This does not sound like my Reinhard,” he said. “He is always talking about needing the baptism for his calling to Africa. Reverend Arthur Kukula is here, Meta. We should not ignore this opportunity. Besides, the Lord Jesus Himself is the Baptizer with the Holy Ghost. If He desires to baptize Reinhard, who are we to stand in His way?”
And so I went with him. As we walked toward the farmhouse, I struggled with my feelings of unworthiness.
How would God stoop to fill such a wayward boy like me with the Holy Spirit? I was surely not to be trusted with His priceless gift.
When we arrived at the house we could hear singing.
Outside, the great swing in the oak tree swayed silently in the breeze, accusing me of my tendency toward worldly thoughts. I turned away from it, fervently asking God to forgive me, and followed my father into the house.
As soon as I entered the room with those saints, I felt something begin to tingle inside of me. Incredibly, it was a growing expectation that I would receive the gift of the baptism this evening.
My heart trembled to think that God would do such a thing. Reinhard the null boy, the worldly boy, the naughty boy, would be visited by the power of the Holy Spirit! I began to be excited, and I felt broken inside.
It was a good feeling because I felt broken before God, and I began to sense His love for me as a broken boy.
Surely this gift would lift me above the string of failures I had wracked up.
As Arthur Kukula spoke, my faith leapt up and shouted “yes” within me. The words of Scripture seemed to come alive in my chest. Suddenly the entire experience was no longer about me. It was about God and His great love for His children. When Arthur invited those seeking the Holy Spirit to kneel and pray I did so immediately. No sooner had I reached my knees than I was overwhelmed with an incredible sensation. No one needed to lay hands on me to pray. I received the gift of speaking in tongues spontaneously and burst out in a heavenly language.
How can I describe it?
Let me say first of all that there are many who have experienced the Spirit baptism in a quieter and less dramatic fashion. What follows is not a “how to” receive. It is a description of how it happened to me at the age of eleven.
It seemed to come from beyond me and from within me at the same time. My mind began to receive a stream of pure light and love from the very throne of God. It flowed over me and went straight through me at once. This was far more than a mere bolt of electricity. It was as if every cell in my body was being saved, healed, and invigorated by a surge of divine power.
The word love is inadequate to describe it because that word has been so abused and misused. Yet that is what the power and Spirit of God is – His pure, selfless agape love poured into us. It has nothing to do with transient human love. It reminds me of the prayer Jesus prayed at the Last Supper: … that the love wherewith thou hast loved me may be in them, and I in them. All of my disappointments, feelings of unworthiness, and condemnation were swept away and forgotten.
The heavenly tongue cascading from my lips was the outer expression of something flowing within me that was too wonderful for normal language. Between my spirit and God’s Spirit great mysteries were being exchanged. Paul spoke of the peace of God that passes understanding. Some blessings from God are beyond intellect. Spirit baptism is one of them. People who limit God to mere human rationality will never know this power and this ecstasy.
As the Spirit flowed, I was being transformed from my human limitations to a place where all things were possible.
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