In 1986, Julia Duin moved to Houston as the new religion writer for the Houston Chronicle. She visited the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in Houston’s blighted East End and fell in love with itsgorgeous music and charismatic worship. After she met Graham Pulkingham, the spellbinding priest who had led Redeemer into a powerful renewal starting in 1964, Duin became convinced the world needed to know the storyof this immensely gifted man and the church that was half-inspired, yet half-haunted by its illustrious past. But as she began investigating Redeemer, some people began warning her there was a darker history behindPulkingham that few people knew. In Days of Fire and Glory, Duin, now an award-winning journalist, reveals the details of the scandal that rocked the charismatic and Christian community movements, not to mention theEpiscopal Church. Through deft storytelling and meticulous research (including 182 interviews), she provides a fascinating portrait of the glorious days of the renewal and its sister movements within Catholic and pentecostalchurches; days when the Spirit’s fire did fall and many within the baby boomer generation were drawn to God.
Julia Duin is a Seattle-based journalist who has worked as a full-time reporter or editor for everything from the Houston Chronicle to the Washington Times. During the 2014-2015 academic year, she occupied the Snedden Chair as a journalism professor at the University of Alaska/Fairbanks. She specializes in interesting women in religion, such as her award-winning profile of Nadia Bolz-Weber in the December 2014 issue of More magazine; her nearly 6,000-word profile on President Trump’s advisor Paula White in the Washington Post Sunday Magazine in November 2017; and her piece on Delilah Rene, the most famous woman in American radio, for the Seattle Times in April 2019. She’s a three-time Wilbur Award winner (from the Religion Communicators Council) for her magazine and newspaper features and in 2018 was one of five recipients (out of about 720 entrants) of the Iceland Writer’s Retreat Alumni Award. She’s published six books, the latest being In the House of the Serpent Handler: A Story of Faith and Fleeting Fame in the Age of Social Media, a nonfiction work about 20-something Appalachian Pentecostal serpent handlers who use Facebook to publicize their exploits. She’s currently developing a specialty in Arctic religion.
Part history of the Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in the East End neighborhood of Houston in the 1960s, and part biography of Graham Pulkingham at that time, the pastor who led it, this was a book worth reading. Growing up Pentecostal, I’ve experienced some of the things that this branch of Episcopalians experienced and termed the “charismatic renewal.” Tongues, tongues interpretation and that sort of thing manifested in their church services. Having grown up near to the location of this “revival” in the southeast side of Houston and gone to my own pentecostal childhood church a few miles from it made this read more fascinating.
But, this book tells also of a “close-knit” community. When the Jesus movement made it to Houston, this community attracted hundreds of hippies, and even hundreds more people that were in traditional churches desiring a “move of God” like this. They lived a type of “missional community” that had a resurgence in the last decade. But this concept of community, when put on a pedestal, and is idolized, breaks down, especially when the leadership is authoritative and not accountable to anyone credible. And although there were partnerships with other Episcopalian churches in Houston like St. John’s in River Oaks, the pastor was left to do whatever he wanted. There were questionable doctrines that began to be taught and the idolization of community began to fracture the sweetness of this “revival.” That, with a hidden sin, or should we say hidden sins, the community dwindled.
I felt a bit of nostalgia and even a desire to see a true revival, a spiritual awakening, while reading this book. The Redeemer church community still meets, but at a neighboring Lutheran church. The church building was sold to an apartment developer, and when I visited recently, I saw that the exterior has been preserved, but has numerous apartment units inside of it. It was strange to stand at where the altar would have been and imagine the committed people of God gathered at that very spot to worship and live out their faith in these household small groups in the East End of Houston.
In the 1980s, the thirty-something year old author worked as a reporter at the Houston Chronicle and was a committed member of Church of the Redeemer. She published this twenty years later and the amount of interviews done for this book is extensive, from the list found at the back of the book. There are times when some stories didn’t fit the topic of the book, in my opinion; like zooming out into the global perspective of this “charismatic renewal,” but one could make a case for these stories to be in the book for context purposes. This church community had a global reach with their song-writing and with their household church concept. Writing it to be a readable story is definitely an accomplishment.
Some spoilers in the phrases. FYI.
Favorite sentence: “Why should we think this a strange thing? We must let go. We’ll see another form of community in its resurrected life that will be more glorious than before.” -318
First Sentence: I was seated in a gorgeous meadow overlooking the Sea of Galilee. Other members of my tour group were wandering about the Mount of Beatitudes but I needed some quiet. -1
Last Sentence: “Why should we think this a strange thing? We must let go. We’ll see another form of community in its resurrected life that will be more glorious than before.” -318
Here are some highlights I made while reading:
First Sentence: I was seated in a gorgeous meadow overlooking the Sea of Galilee. Other members of my tour group were wandering about the Mount of Beatitudes but I needed some quiet. -1
James Clark, the writer of the dissertation sitting on my lap, had called Redeemer “a unique and priceless laboratory” for the testing of the charismatic thesis. It was a laboratory like none other, with many spills, many broken laboratory dishes, and a few chemical explosions. And now here was a nuclear bomb. -5
The power of the Holy Spirit had been like dawn, leaping over Houston, its powerful rays streaking across an azure Texas sky, its light turning a sea of skyscrapers into the bejeweled walls of a celestial city. -5
On specially humid nights, a stellar cluster explodes on the Texas prairie. It is Houston; powerful, glittering, the city built by oil. -9
During the depression, Tom [Tellepsen] needed to keep his construction crew busy, so, asa project, he decided to build a community church called Church of the Redeemer in Eastwood, his favorite neighborhood. On the site of the original church, Tom haiku a much larger sanctuary and education building with one major oddity: Redeemer had no windows. Exceptionally large, with a seating capacity for about 1,000, it also had no stained glass. -16
Unhappy about the plight of the disadvantaged and discriminated against, clergy were preoccupied with the city, and romanticized the inner city as a place where all kinds of people could be found and truly inclusive ministry could take place. Clergy were “enablers,” tormenting community change, “doing” theology, getting involved in the spiritual would sap these clergy. The overwhelming fragmentation of the 1960s would discourage many of them, sending some to permanent cynicism, others to a maintenance mode, still others into theological liberalism, and a few to a new movement known as the charismatic renewal. -21
His parishioners reacted so violently that he resigned on the spot, but once the media got wind of the story, Dennis found himself on TV, being asked to demonstrate what the gift of tongues sounded like. His April 1960 ejection Fromm St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Van Nuys was the unofficial beginning of the charismatic movement. -27
While some women prayed over her, Betty opened her mouth to sing. Instead of a song in English, out came a melody of surpassing beauty in a language she did not know. -31
The genius of the idea was the households’ geographic closeness to the church. Most households were walking distance from Redeemer and each other, which made living in a household a bonding experience and transformed the neighborhood as well. One was always waving to folks walking by on the sidewalk. -76
Meanwhile, everyone was still expected to speak in tongues, or at least make a stab at it. For some, this worked splendidly. But for others, it was grossly humiliating, and the sensation of power or anointing never did arrive. Unlike salvation, which was a step made in faith, baptism in the spirit, by its nature, was experimental. People could not take an experience “on faith;” they either experienced something or they did not. If the Holy Spirit had not done the work, the person involved kew it, and no amount of convincing was going to change things. -95
The choir had a rule that members could not skip out of the Christmas Eve services to go home to family. Instead, the family they worshipped with on Christmas Eve was Redeemer as Christmas Eve was a principal emotional high point for the community and everyone was expected to be there. -115
People were dropping by Redeemer by the hundreds and reporters were writing stories. And all hours, the church was filled with international visitors and volunteers, most of them college – with long hair, sandals, and hippie attire of the day. -135
Not for another 12 years with Jeff realized the depth of his sin. Until then, he would pray and prophesy with the best of them. And he knew that a lot of the people were just like him. They played the songs, sang the songs, wrote the songs. They were lifting their hands and saying the words, but at some deep level, they did not understand. Redeemer was unquestionably a church, but something valuable was getting lost in the power. -136-137
Before long, it became clear that something was terribly amiss with the whole idea. Sessions could be lengthy and brutal, with the deliverers questioning whether that person really knew the Lord. After such a degrading session, anyone could slink away wondering if he or she truly was saved. -166
Despite all the talk of renewal, Graham had lost his delicate balance between charismatic renewal and social action. Grady once heard Graham assert that Indian societies and cultures, through the strength of their family ties, brought about miraculous healings, as if the dynamic was what healed people. -174
From time to time during the service, a kind of wistful yearning to touch the Lord or be touched by Him would seep forth from the congregation, but invariably it was squelched by one of the leaders up front. Then I could sense shoulders slumping and eyes dimming around the room. It was hard to believe this was the same place that had set the pace for charismatic renewal 15 years back. -226
But Bob Eckert wept. The restoration of fellowship among the five elders, for which he had desperately hoped for, had never happened. -238
It seemed that of you cannot kill your prophets, the next best thing is to ignore them. -258
He then launched into his latest theological insight: There must be femaleness in the Godhead, or women would bot be saved because man and woman are created in God’s image. -284
The six children, several of whom Graham had once told me were forever turned off to Christianity because of him, arrived. They would wash him and shave him ad sing hymns ni his presence, and sometimes his eyes would flutter open, but it was clear he was gone. -305
Last sentence: “Why should we think this a strange thing? We must let go. We’ll see another form of community in its resurrected life that will be more glorious than before.” -318
Days of Fire and Glory was a special book for me. Having heard a sanitised version of the story of this community, my interest was piqued when I came across a reference to this book in a blog post. For the unitiated, the term Charismatic community dates back to the 1970's. I was a young child during the 70's. As a keen student of history, I began to understand that parts of Christian culture like other parts of western society at large had undergone a radical shift during the 70's, most likely as a way of trying to answer big questions like "What is the meaning of life?". For the non-religious, this might be experimentation with drugs, or living in a farming collective (commune). At its heart, these decisions were a conscious rejection of western culture, which was seen as selfish, individualistic and driven by corporate greed. Terms like the "rat race" were popular and continue to this day.
The Church of the Redeemer was born in this environment, from an unlikely source, the Episcopal church, which is the US version of the Anglican church, and similar in practices to the Catholic church.
The book begins with an earnest young rector with a young family. He is struggling with internal tensions and has secret fantasies which he knows are at odds with the Christian faith. Feeling paralyzed by the internal tension, he confides in a well known evangelical leader. Through what he sees as divine intervention, these dark feelings subside and he establishes a christian community which begins to thrive and impact the local area in many positive ways.
If you have guessed by the book's title, unfortunately this is not the end of the story. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. If you have read George Orwell's Animal Farm, then the excesses of leadership with almost unlimited power will come as no surprise. A thread which ran through the whole tale was "This organisation must be protected at all costs, even individual lives. If the truth is a casualty in the process, then so be it." If you have watched any soap opera then the recurring theme of deception coming back to bite you is a common one.
It seems undeniable that in the early days, The Church of the Redeemer was onto something. For those of us with faith, supernatural power was at work. Over the years, cover-ups, selfish decisions, foot soldiers being sacrificed for the greater good left their mark. The Christian theme was diluted and became social justice. Spontaneity gave way to dull tradition. The leader's dark longings and secret fulfillment of these finally emerged, the community's heyday already long gone.
If you have some background or involvement with such an organisation, you will recognize many of the pitfalls that the author describes. The author is a journalist and the book was meticulously researched. The author also participated in the community during the middle years and had access to many of the important players when researching. It is a long read and at times I think probably goes into too much detail in some places. However upon finishing this book I felt like I had a very good understanding of what it must have been like to be part of this group.
Is such a community a good idea now or is it possible to maintain the ideals than marked the beginning (the glory days)? We are not given the author's view and have to decide for ourselves. I tend to be pessimistic and cynical in outlook and fundamentally distrust organisational structures where good governance and checks and balances are not in place. There are reasons for the separation of powers in the Westminster system. What begins with very high ideals can unravel under the weight of human nature. What Christians describe as fallen human nature. Like the big C communist regimes, the seeds of downfall are there, buried beneath the soil waiting to rear their ugly heads.
For those who have had exposure to similar groups, it can be a fascinating read. Most likely you will have to look for the book on the second hand market, it does not have a electronic version.
So, my reaction to this book is tricky: The entire saga is framed in a way that's super-homophobic, and the author is clearly hostile to the presence of unapologetic gay people in the church (think: "homosexuality is a sin that one needs deliverance from"-type assertions, and the conflation of homosexuality and pastoral abuse). There's also a section toward the end that at least *lightly* implies that a former church member dying of AIDS is getting their just desserts. (Just, wow.) So that's all a giant "ugh."
That said, this is a really detailed insider look at patterns of abuse, misogyny, and control in a Charismatic Christian community. As an Episcopalian who grew up elsewhere in the Charismatic movement, a lot of these patterns are familiar -- and reading this account really helped me reprocess some things about those years. I was surprised to see a photograph of an event I attended (the North American Congress on the Holy Spirit and World Evangelization in New Orleans, 1987 -- I'm probably somewhere in that sea of people in the image). I was further surprised to read many names of people I either knew or had interacted with personally, or had heard speak. Maybe I shouldn't have been.
I do think the person who wrote this felt a duty to chronicle what happened within her faith community unflinchingly, and that instinct is commendable. The book could probably benefit from more careful editing, and maybe a clearer guide to the expansive cast of "characters" (i.e., priests, elders, and parishioners) it hops between. Some chapters are an absolute flurry of names that are collectively hard to keep straight after a while. Organizationally, some sections and paragraphs needed better focus/pacing. And also: Did I mention the homophobia? LOL. I'm mentioning it again.
I'm not sure how to handle this via a star rating. For some people, the framing is (and probably should be) a deal-breaker (0 or 1 star). I don't think LGBTQ+ folks -- particularly those who grew up in the church -- should have to read texts that reify psychological harm or bigoted rhetoric, at least not without warning/preparation. But this book is also an important piece of documentation despite organizational issues (4 stars?), and there's a lot I'm left chewing on in the aftermath of reading it, particularly as I reflect upon the broader Charismatic movement as a whole during the '70s, '80s, and '90s (I missed the '60s), and some of the abuses that flourished within churches that *also* contained many earnest, well-meaning people.
For Christian readers who experienced the Charismatic movement, how does one reconcile these two statements (if you honestly believe both of them)?: - God was powerfully present. - People did really terrible things.
There isn't an easy answer (unless, of course, you reject one of those premises - clearly, not everyone agrees they're both true). I don't think the book arrives at an easy conclusion, either. It was still helpful to me, on some level.
My parents were greatly influenced by the music from the Fisherfolk and the Chruch of the Redeemer in Houston during the heyday of the Charismatic movement. This salutary tale from that time is not a new one - how power, control, the dangerous "shepherding movement" (which is still around today through a lot of the 3DM/Missional church teaching), the making of leaders and founders into icons - all destroy and damage the church and many good and holy people in the process. This is not to undo the good that these people and their movement had, but that we never seem to learn, nor see in a timely manner, how easily this happens. This book left me both wistful for some of my childhood times, yet also somewhat glad they are over. Duin writes well but the book disintegrates when she starts to comment on theology, as her thoughts here lack robustness and broadness of understanding. A fascinating read.
This is a tremendous resource, detailing how a revival began, how it plateau'd, and how it collapsed due to scandal of one of its most revered leaders. It is must reading for adherents to the Charismatic Renewal, a stern warning to not take the faith for granted, and oddly inspirational to boot. I've given this book the most as a gift to friends.
Exhaustive and quietly devastating account of one of the early charismatic revivals, centered around the Church of the Redeemer and it's charismatic priest. From the beginning, when people discovered how something called the outpouring of the Holy Spirit and the speaking of tongues could radically change a person's faith, to the formation of a community that lived in heroic poverty among daily miracles, to it's fall from grace and slow, prolonged death; it's a staggering achievement in religious history.
This isn't a clinical history done by a sociologist who keeps himself detached, but a really involved book done by someone who believed in it and had unprecedented access to members. It covers the good and bad without moralizing much on it till her own involvement, and even then it's not partisan. It's actually wearying, just the wealth of detail and stories in it, and the palpable regret when the church declines even from its first steps into cult-dom.
I'd compare it very much to a real version of Richard Adams's Shardik. In both cases an event comes smashing in that transforms the world. In Shardik it was a massive God-Bear; In this book it's the appearance of one charismatic episcopal priest. But both are histories of the life and death of what those events caused, and both are excellent stories in their own right.
I highly recommend this book. The only niggle I found was the Kindle version she formatted a little poorly: She tried to use drop caps, but they tend to show up one line above the word they are in. Still it's a great read for students of religion, and gripping studies of believers locked in a movement that cannot last.
In a narrative style that is enriched with journalistic touches, Washington Times writer, Julia Duin writes about the birth of the 1960s charismatic movement in Houston, Texas and its growth all the way to its demise in the late 1980s and early 1990s. She writes of the power of community and the joys of life experienced through Holy Spirit inspired personal sacrifice. She also hints throughout the book to the dangers of such power not being held in check and warns of how leaders lacking accountability can lead to the demise of a community. She writes historically and she writes theologically. This book would be great for anyone who is interested in church history, movements of the Spirit, church leadership, or community living. I also encourage the reading of this book by anyone who has encountered the charismatic movement but has been left confused by this encounter.
I read this book because many of my friends lived in community at the Church of the Redeemer--a few are mentioned in the book.
Ms. Duin clearly spent a lot of time on this project. She does a remarkable job telling the story of the community and of a few of the individuals involved.
Personally, I thought a little more context, to give an idea of how unusual Redemer was would have been useful to most readers. I remember Ms. Duin's religion reporting well (I lived in Houston at the same time), this book gave me a lot of insight into her reporting as well.
I recommend the book for people interested in the charismatic movement in mainline churches and for people interested in leadership.
Do yourself a favor and find some Fisherfolk music to listen before or while you're reading.
I question the author's intent and wonder about the truth of her account. Especially when compared to first person accounts during the time the events take place and then reading "This is My Story, This is my Song."