Internalized Cessationism

some thoughts on the Holy Spirit, prayer, and relationship with God

At dinner the other day, my friend Leah was telling me about a dog she had named Pebbles who was an aggressive pooper—you know the type. She said that if he had thumbs, he would follow in the steps of the chimpanzee, but thankfully he hadn’t evolved that much as of yet.

As we were all laughing at her story, totally absorbed in the world of Pebbles and how she basically traded Pebbles for a Blizzard given to her by Dari Queen worker, my mind was processing all that happened over the last couple of days at SSU, my graduate school.

Suddenly, a phrase popped into my head that I knew needed to be explored.

As I retrieved my notebook from my bag, another friend said that based off the look on my face she thought I was going to write a haiku about Pebbles. I wasn’t then, but I did.

Who loves poopy dogs?
Trading Blizzards for Pebbles,
Everyone is loved.

As my other friend Annie said, “I could do this all day.”

But what was actually happening in that moment is that my mind had connected like four different things from that week and summed it all up in the expression internalized cessationism.

What is Cessationism?

The Dictionary of Theological Terms defines cessationism as “The belief that the charismata—the supernatural gifts of the apostolic church—ceased with or very soon after the days of the apostles.”¹

Thiselton observed that cessationists typically argue “that miracles and tongues-speech might be a witness to the gospel until the final formation of the biblical canon, when, it was suggested, they then became unnecessary.”²

This latter position is more specifically what I was taught. The miracles of the first century were no longer needed after the last verse of the New Testament was written. In many cases, the “perfect” of 1 Corinthians 13:8ff was defined as the completed Bible.

Now within cessationism within the Churches of Christ, there are two major views and one minor view, but we’ll just quickly define two of these:

1. Literal, non-miraculous indwelling

2. Word-only indwelling

The literal, non-miraculous indwelling view believed that the Holy Spirit literally dwells within an individual but performs no miraculous deeds through the individual. The word-only view of the Holy Spirit, the one I was raised with, teaches that the Holy Spirit only dwells within the individual representatively through the Bible, which is defined as the word of God.

Any Work of the Holy Spirit in Redemption (a title of a popular work on this view by Franklin Camp) is relegated to one’s ability to read, understand, and properly apply the Bible, specifically the New Testament. The Spirit doesn’t lead, doesn’t influence, doesn’t call, and doesn’t lay something on someone’s heart apart from the Bible.

Songs or verses that mentioned the work of the Spirit were skipped over. Songs about having a little talk of Jesus were laughed at. And any mention of a personal relationship with God or hearing the voice of God was looked at with as much suspicion as tales about Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster.

For many of you, this may seem close to blasphemous, but that’s the world in which I was raised.

It is my own experience that this extreme view of the Holy Spirit hurt my relationship with God, my prayer life, my views on God’s providence, and my ability to connect well with my emotions and spirituality. At its worst, it reduces the faith to cold, hard facts and elevates the human’s ability to think, reason, and argue over experiential knowledge of God, which might be thought to not even be possible. This is internalized cessationism.

People Actually Prayed Over Me

One of the things I was processing during the story about Pebbles was what had happened the day before: for the first time in my life, people prayed over me in a way that had never happened to me before, and it happened twice in one day.

Okay, as I’m trying to write this, I’m feeling a lot of emotions. But I’m trying to hold it together to get this onto paper for you because I think it is that important.

History of Theology Class

Our history professor, Dr. Fitch, served as a pastor for most of his life. In retirement, he still works with the college and mentors us up and coming theologians. Throughout the semester, I experienced a level of frustration in class. It wasn’t frustration directed at him, the material, or my fellow students. Instead, the frustration was directed at my own spirituality.

As we read about Atony battling demons, the spirituality of the church fathers and mothers, and heard testimony from Dr. Fitch on a variety of answered prayers and the working of God in his life, I examined my own life and experience and felt sadness over the lack of similar stories.

I’ve never heard the voice of God or had what might be called a mystical experience.

Over the last ten years, I believe I’ve seen the evidence of God in my life, but I’ve been so trained to find explanations for a lot of those things, that I’ve demythologized much of it. If you resonate with this last line, there’s a book by “Science Mike” you might enjoy.

So on the last day of class, Dr. Fitch was telling us more about his work as a pastor and wanted to tell us about a few counseling and prayer exercises that had helped a lot of people.

And so he asked for a volunteer to demonstrate one of these one-on-one exercises.

So I raised my hand.

One thing you might know about me is that I don’t get embarrassed too easily. I’ve been doing public speaking since the seventh grade, and I lost whatever inhibition I may have had at one point. Playing music in front of people is a different story, but I can stand up in front of a crowd all day long.

As I made my way to the front of the classroom, which wasn’t too far because if I don’t sit up front I’ll get distracted by everything else going on in class, I had a decision to make.

Do I be a good role play partner and go along with whatever Dr. Fitch has planned, or do I just send it like Larry Enticer and see what happens.

I decided to go all in. As I readied myself at the front of the room, I said a little prayer of consent and opened my heart and mind to Dr. Fitch.

Let me pause here for a moment and talk about why I was able to do this. These two weeks of Discovering Renewal and residency at graduate school were amazing. I made so many great connections and really felt at home. Residency was particularly special to me. I didn’t get to have a one-on-one with everyone there, but I felt an immediate kinship with the whole class.

As I said “amen” to my prayer of consent, I felt the presence of all of my new friends, some of whom I hope to be friends with for the rest of my life. I felt comfortable, affirmed, and seen. I belonged.

Dr. Fitch gave me some light instructions on what he was about to do, how I could respond if I needed to, and reassured me that I wouldn’t be embarrassed, but I knew because of who was in the room with me that that wouldn’t happen.

As we prayed together, him saying a line and myself repeating, the tears started to flow. Suppressed feelings and memories came to the surface that haven’t appeared in years. We talked about feelings of authenticity, religious trauma, and suspicions of inadequacy. But honestly, I don’t remember many of the specifics, besides a very personal story about my grandmother.

But ultimately what I felt was peace and acceptance.

Afterwards, many of my classmates joined me in the center aisle and offered a hug and a word of encouragement. Some saved theirs for later when I was less overwhelmed. But to be honest, I felt all of their hugs and love long before anyone approached me. I knew they were holding me in their heart the whole time.

It was an unprecedented level of community that filled a hole in my soul I didn’t know was there.

A Little Talk with Jesus on a Bench

A few hours later, two of my friends wanted to pray with me in private. Marie had been planning this all week, and I’m glad she did.

We sat down in a room, and Bradley asked me to name a place where I feel safe. Immediately, I thought of the Guntersville State Park. He asked me to name a specific trail, and I chose Butler Pass. There’s a bit of elevation gain before you reach a beautiful overlook with a nice wooden bench right on the edge.

The Bench

The Overlook

Bradley then asked if there was room for Jesus on the bench. There was.

He asked me which side Jesus was sitting on. To my left.

He then invited me to look into Jesus’s eyes and tell him what I saw. No expectations.

Bradley then proceeded to walk me through a conversation with Jesus. I would say something, and he would ask me how Jesus responded. Rationalize it all you’d like, but the responses that came from Jesus really felt like they came from somewhere else.

As I had this little talk with Jesus on the bench overlooking Lake Guntersville, the tears began to flow once more. And, as before, even more came to the surface that I had repressed or else had forgotten. It was a truly special experience—so special that I’ll keep the bulk of it to myself.

But I walked away from these two experiences with the confirmation of something I’ve expected for seven years or so: the Holy Spirit is far more active than I had ever thought.

“I Don’t Know How this Works”

In talking about these experiences, I told someone, “I don’t know how this works.”

Their response was, “Nobody does.”

And that makes a lot of sense to me.

I can’t tell you why I heard Jesus’s voice as his voice. I can’t tell you why the things he was saying to me seemed to come from somewhere else than my own imagination. And I can’t tell you why I felt the overwhelming sense of love and acceptance I did in this moments.

But I did.

Years of believing and teaching that the Holy Spirit went out of business after the first century has made me suspicious of my own experience. In practicing centering prayer and other forms of contemplation, for instance, I would experience moments of clarity, of peace, and even of ecstasy. But I wrote those off with some sort of psychological explanation, as if the Spirit can’t work through natural processes or as if just because the Spirit uses a natural process, then it is no longer supernatural.

I’m not going to make claims of inspiration. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I don’t have plans to speak in tongues, heal the sick, or walk on water.

But I do believe that if we draw near to God, then God will draw near to us.

I heard someone say that some view the point of studying Scripture is to “know that you know that you know.” I’m trying to move from that perspective to “know that you know that you’re known.” Maybe that will make a good next article.

1. Cairns, Alan. Dictionary of Theological Terms 2002: 79. Print.

2. Thiselton, Anthony C. “Cessationalism.” The Thiselton Companion to Christian Theology 2015: 191. Print.