Cecil M. Robeck, Jr., The Azusa Street Mission And Revival: The Birth Of The Global Pentecostal Movement (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2006), 342 pages.

About ten years ago, I audited a seminary course about the Pentecostal Movement. The course was a cooperative effort between Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and Harvard Divinity School. The classes were held at Harvard Divinity School and were team-taught by two professors, one from each of the respective schools. During that course, the Harvard professor, Harvey Cox, said that if Cecil Robeck ever sat down to write about Azusa Street that his book would be the definitive work on the subject. If that is true, we have the first volume now available (Robeck indicates in the book that he expects more volumes to follow). The release of this book is very timely; it coincides with the one hundredth anniversary of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at the Azusa Street Mission.

Robeck has done extensive research for this book. The book is filled with detailed information about dates, times, places and people. He has gathered this information from a number of sources including interviews with eyewitnesses of the revival and the secular press. The variety of his sources allows him to show the reader how Azusa Street was viewed by both believers and unbelievers alike. Writing about one hundred years after the revival allows Robeck to step back and be fairly objective in interpreting the facts that he has gathered.

The book gives considerable attention to the pastor of the Azusa Street Mission, William J. Seymour. Robeck looks at various factors that contributed to making Seymour the leader that he was, namely his upbringing and spiritual journey. Seymour comes across as a very humble and devout man, who was a team player. One indication of this was that he had a leadership team at the mission that was made up of both men and women and was multi-ethnic. Another evidence of his team spirit was his desire to cooperate, and work with leaders of other Pentecostal ministries. Though Seymour was humble he was also very strong, he had to deal with difficult issues at the mission as well as multiple attempts by leaders, from outside of the mission, who tried to discredit him or steal his ministry.

The book also gives one a good look at the services of the Azusa Street mission. Robeck writes about various aspects of the services including, the worship, preaching and singing that took place at the mission. One very interesting section dealt with singing in the Spirit. The revival had many critics, from both inside and outside the church, but one thing that seems to have especially touched the visitors at Azusa Street was hearing the congregation sing in tongues. When writing about the mission Robeck does not attempt to gloss over, or cover up the shortcomings of the mission, questionable practices and false doctrines are mentioned along with the revival’s positive aspects.

Stanley N. Gundry and James Stamoolis, eds., Three Views on Eastern Orthodoxy and Evangelicalism, Counterpoints (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2004), 294 pages.

This book is a fine addition to Zondervan’s Counterpoint series, in which controversial theological issues are examined from a variety of stances by reputable scholars and/or denominational leaders. This particular book offers a variety of perspectives on the relationship between the evangelical movement and the oldest Christian community, the Eastern Orthodox Church. Respected evangelical scholar J. I. Packer writes the forward and five pastors and theologians, some evangelical and some Orthodox, offer answers to the question of whether Eastern Orthodoxy and evangelicalism are compatible. All five present their answers (yes, no and maybe) and the other four are given the opportunity to respond to the presenter. The presenting writer is then allowed to respond to the respondents.

Bradley Nassif, an Orthodox theologian with an extensive background in evangelical higher education and ecumenical activity offers the sole affirmative response for the compatibility of these two Christian traditions. Nassif demonstrates not only a thorough grasp of his own tradition but an impressive comprehension and positive assessment of evangelicalism. His primary thesis is that Orthodoxy and evangelicalism are compatible because Orthodox theology is evangelical, whether or not Orthodox adherents and church leadership care to identify it as such. Nassif uses David Bebbington’s fourfold definition of evangelicalism to show Orthodox and evangelical compatibility. First, both groups emphasize “crucicentrism” (centrality of the life, death and resurrection of Christ), “biblicism” (commitment to the inspiration and authority of Scripture), “conversionism” (personal commitment of one’s life to Christ) and “activism” (witness and holy living). Nassif grants that both Orthodoxy and evangelicalism do not often emphasize specific doctrinal elements contained in these basic agreements to the satisfaction of each group, but the agreement is nonetheless there in principle.

Michael Horton, a Reformed evangelical theologian, writes next, denying the compatibility of the two traditions. Horton begins by appreciating the areas of commonality between the two, such as a high view of Scripture and conservative Christology (doctrine of Christ’s person and work). He finds problems, however, with the high view of church tradition espoused by Orthodoxy in relation to Scripture, finding there the same problem he perceives with the Roman Catholic view. Even more fundamentally, however, Horton alleges that Orthodoxy does not possess an adequate view on issues of sin, free will and salvation, particularly with regard to justification and sanctification. He contends that, due to Orthodoxy’s stress on sanctification, it promotes a salvation by works that fundamentally denies justification by faith alone. He claims that the evangelical view denies any role of the human in salvation and that this, in contrast to the Orthodox view, is the true Gospel message.

The final chapter in this unique commentary on the Gospel to the Hebrews. Messianic teacher Kevin Williams discusses the Roman execution of Messiah, the forsakenness of the sacrifice, changing the Sabbath, the Great Commission and other insights in this closing chapter.

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole Roman cohort around Him (Matthew 27:27).

It is important to note the lack of Jewish names and perpetrators in this verse, or those that follow. Those who cling onto the obscene notions of the Jewish population as “Christ killers,” and therefore worthy of not only God’s scorn but Christian oppression as well, should carefully note these violent and insufferable acts of the Gentiles.

As noted in part 21, the trail of Yeshua was a mockery, conducted by a handful of spiritually blinded Jewish leaders. They certainly passed a false sentence, but it was the Roman cohort that stripped, mocked, spat on, beat, and crucified Him. The horrific scenes made so vivid in Mel Gibson’s 2004 production of The Passion of the Christ, are guilts all mankind shares.

They gave Him wine to drink mingled with gall; and after tasting it, He was unwilling to drink (Matthew 27:34).

For some, this might contradict an earlier promise by Yeshua at the Passover: “But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom” (Matthew 26:29). If the Messiah said he would not drink of the “fruit of the vine,” that is to say, wine, then why did he drink this wine/gall mixture?

First of all, Yeshua did not “drink,” He tasted. Once He tasted it, “He was unwilling to drink.” If there is an exact explanation to settle any disparity, this should suffice.

There may be a deeper spiritual significance beyond the words on the page, however. Proverbs 31:6 reads, “Give strong drink to him who is perishing, and wine to him whose life is bitter.” Within the Israeli religious culture of the day, that verse was interpreted thusly, “When a person is lead out to be executed he is given a glass of wine containing a grain of frankincense, in order to numb the senses, as it is written, ‘Give strong drink unto him who is perishing, wine to those bitter of soul.’” (Sanhedrin 43a).

For those witnesses there, the religious theology of Sanhedrin 43a may well have been the filter through which they processed the crucifixion. Yeshua had been offered the prescribed drink to “numb his senses” and to deaden a “bitter soul.” But Yeshua’s soul was not bitter, and from His perspective, death was not permanent. He wanted his senses to be as sharp as possible, for He was about the business of fulfilling God’s Plan.

“And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, Lama Sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, My God, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46).

It should not be missed that this was “about the ninth hour” a very significant moment in the Temple, as well as throughout the Scripture: often referred to as the ninth hour, eventide, the evening oblation, or the evening sacrifice (see Joshua 7:6-10, I Kings 18:36, 38, Daniel 9:21, Ezra 9:5-6, and Acts 10:30-31. Editor’s Note: read Kevin William’s article “The Ninth Hour” from the Summer 2000 issue of the Pneuma Review). In the Hebrew it is known as the minchah as is still commemorated every day by observant Hebrews through the “evening” prayers at 3:00 p.m.

Frank Macchia, (ThD, University of Basel, Switzerland) represents that interesting paradox once thought of as a possible oxymoron: a true Pentecostal scholar. At least no one who reads his Baptized in the Spirit should any longer doubt the evident reality, vitality, and maturity of today’s Pentecostal scholarship. Dr. Macchia, one of the world’s leading Pentecostal theologians, is currently a professor of theology at Vanguard University in Costa Mesa, CA, serves as senior editor of Pneuma: The Journal of the Society for Pentecostal Studies, is a former president of the Society of Pentecostal Studies, and serves on the Faith and Order Commission of the National Council of Churches. Some have yielded to a temptation to paste Pentecostal insights onto an already existing theological paradigm but Macchia proposes a truly all-encompassing theology organized around Spirit baptism that is a profound integration of an authentic Pentecostal ethos with classic and contemporary Christian theology. As such it deserves to be read widely by Pentecostals themselves and by others seeking to understand Pentecostal theology today.

Professor Macchia begins his task by “framing the issue” in a helpful introductory chapter. Here he shares his exciting Pentecostal testimony of being baptized in the Holy Spirit. That Spirit baptism is much more to Macchia than an interesting item for intellectual reflection is readily apparent. Then he outlines the main themes he develops throughout the book: that Spirit baptism “involves experience;” is a “fluid metaphor surrounded by ambiguous imagery” capable of encompassing numerous emphases; is both charismatic (Lukan) and soteriological (Pauline) in nature; and, that it includes “a Pentecost/kingdom of God correlation” in which “the highest description possible of the substance of Spirit baptism is an eschatological gift that functions as an outpouring of divine love.” Significantly, Macchia maintains that the Holy Spirit’s work “cannot be compartmentalized or separated,” chiding Pentecostals for being too narrow and consequently not developing a broader (and deeper?) pneumatology. He declares that “the vision of the whole for which this book reaches” is that purposeful development.

Macchia insists that though many helpful and insightful Pentecostal monographs have been produced, a central focus on Spirit baptism is regrettably missing in more recent scholarship. He therefore calls for a return to Spirit baptism as the central distinctive of Pentecostals. His survey of the historic development and current state of Pentecostal theology and his passionate argument for completing “the unfinished business of Pentecostal theology” is worth the price of the book. Macchia makes plain his wish to expand the boundaries of Spirit baptism to include applications to all of Christian life and even God’s eventual and ultimate cosmic presence. For him, Spirit baptism in the present age points to and partakes of existence with God in the resurrection and the new heavens and new earth. Macchia places Spirit baptism in Trinitarian perspective. He elucidates the Pentecost-Kingdom connection he argues for throughout the book, the Church’s faith in Jesus as Spirit Baptizer, and in an especially stimulating section, the Trinitarian implications of Spirit baptism itself, before unpacking his understanding of how Spirit baptism impacts present and future life in the Kingdom. Macchia confessedly shows his “Pentecostal colors” here. Then he extensively examines ecclesiology in light of Spirit baptism. Among other things, Macchia stresses koinonia in the Spirit as a possible key to Pentecostal progress on understandings of the Church and also argues for a more pneumatological anthropology. Macchia takes a prime opportunity to address the problems of contemporary religious pluralism too. He describes the uniqueness of the Church in terms of “a critical dialectic” of witness and sign of God’s grace in an all-too-graceless world before addressing the more traditional marks of the Church. He confessedly shows his “Barthian colors” here. The capstone of the book argues emphatically for the Spirit baptized life as an expression of the depths of divine love. Macchia suggests an integrative theology of love that relates cardinal Christian virtues and incorporates sanctification and charismatic gifting/empowerment, personal and social transformation, and historical and eschatological concerns and values through the doctrine and experience of Spirit baptism.

Allan Anderson, An Introduction to Pentecostalism: Global Charismatic Christianity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).

By way of introducing his topic, Anderson begins the book by describing his visits to four Pentecostal churches in different parts of the world, the Yoido Full Gospel Church in Seoul, Korea; the Christ Apostolic Church, Lagos, Nigeria; a Vineyard church in South Birmingham, England; St. Luke Church of God in Christ in Chicago, Illinois, USA. He also adds the story of a friend’s visit to Claudio Friedzon’s church in Buenos Aires, Argentina. His intent here is to illustrate the worldwide scope and variety of Pentecostalism, a theme that is the foundation for the entire book.

Before looking at the work itself, it is important to note that Anderson acknowledges the difficulty in describing what Pentecostalism actually is, given that it appears in various forms throughout the world. In rejecting a definition of Pentecostalism that is based on strictly on theology, specifically speaking in tongues, which would be the norm among classical Pentecostals, he prefers a more inclusive definition that includes “all churches and movements that emphasize the working of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, both on phenomenological and on theological grounds—although not without qualification” (pp. 13-14). Throughout the book, however, he appears to give emphasis more to the phenomenological (phenomenology attempts to describe the way things are) than the theological in defining what Pentecostalism is. While I am not comfortable with any definition of Pentecostalism that is not at least primarily theological, I acknowledge the difficulty in describing Pentecostalism in general.

The book is divided into two parts, the first describing the history and development of Pentecostalism in various parts of the world and the second deals with Pentecostal and Charismatic theological and sociological issues in their context.

Anderson begins his review of the history of Pentecostalism with the first century church and traces the thread of Pentecostal distinctives throughout church history to the late nineteenth century. Then, in dealing with the massive outpouring of the Holy Spirit that has marked the 20^th century, he begins with the Azusa Street revival that took place in Los Angeles from 1906-09, giving particular emphasis to the African-American cultural milieu that impacted the movement. In Anderson’s opinion, this emphasis is lacking in other accounts of the Azusa Street revival and gives valuable insights into this issue.

Cover from the 2013 second edition.

From there, Anderson takes the reader around the world, describing the development of Pentecostalism in every major area of the world except for the Middle East, a lamentable and unexplained omission. The facts that he marshals are impressive and comprehensive. The various phenomenological and theological themes are carefully explained. In looking at the historical beginnings of the Pentecostal movement in Europe, Korea, and India, which in some cases had no contact with Azusa Street, Anderson challenges the assumption of many authors that Azusa Street was the preeminent place where the Spirit was being poured out and calls for a rewriting of Pentecostal history. In the end, I find myself thanking God for the work of the Holy Spirit in various ways and means throughout the entire world.

In summarizing the first part of the book, Anderson must be commended for his thorough efforts to present the whole package of Pentecostalism. This is no piece of hagiography. He not only relates the overwhelmingly positive fruit that Pentecostalism has borne, he also gives plenty of space to describing the schisms and problems that have marked the modern Pentecostal movement. In not sweeping things under the proverbial carpet, he has done his readers a great favor in giving an honest assessment of the impact, both positive and negative, of the Pentecostal movement in the 20^th century.

Hans Boersma takes a serious look at the traditional theories of atonement and investigates the role of violence in Christ’s saving work. To speak of violence in the context of God’s work of salvation is both obvious and bold. It is obvious that the violent execution of Jesus stands at the heart of the atonement. At the same time, it is bold to speak of this violence as an attribute of God’s nature. The cross stands at the heart of this tension between God’s hospitality and the violent nature of salvation history. Violence, Hospitality, and the Cross unfolds on the basis of the paradox that all acts of hospitality in creation require some degree of violence. Boersma challenges the reader to carry this language also into an understanding of God.

Originally trained in the Netherlands, the Reformed theologian Hans Boersma now serves as the J. I. Packer Chair of Theology at Regent College. He takes seriously the challenges of Reformed theology in general, and Calvin’s view on election and predestination, in particular. Nonetheless, Calvin is not the starting point for this book but rather a sounding board that allows Boersma to develop more fully his own theology of the atonement in the terms of hospitality.

The book consists of three parts addressing questions of violence in the context of divine hospitality. Part one sets the tone by introducing the possibility of speaking about God’s hospitality in the face of violence. Part two focuses on the place of the cross in the atonement tradition. Part three draws conclusions from the previous discussion for Christian life and the Church as a community of hospitality. A short epilogue suggests the possibility for the end of all violence in the arrival of God’s unconditional, eschatological hospitality.

The book engages an impressive range of theological, biblical and philosophical sources. The starting point for the discussion is formed by questions of divine hospitality. The late modern debate has framed these questions largely in the context of the necessity and possibility of an unconditional and unlimited hospitality. Boersma suggests that all hospitality is embedded in a context of violence and therefore shaped by the conditions of human existence. Nonetheless, he does not view the boundaries and limitations of creation as negative but suggests, instead, that a positive perspective on violence could redefine our understanding of the atonement and, in turn, of the divine hospitality. Central to this attempt is Boersma’s definition of violence as harm or injury.

Boersma argues that God’s hospitality requires a passionate anger toward anything that violates this relationship of love. The Calvinist emphasis on election tends to emphasize the limited character of God’s hospitality and draws the violence against the non-elect into the heart of God, thereby blurring the possibility of an unconditional and unlimited divine hospitality. In contrast, Boersma speaks of God’s “preferential hospitality” that serves a missiological purpose by embracing potentially all nations. On this basis, the book unfolds the implications of the various atonement theories for an understanding of God’s hospitality.

Anthony Esolen, “Over Our Dead Bodies: Men Who Are Willing to Lay Down Their Lives Are Truly Indispensable,” Touchstone (June 2006, Vol 19, No. 5).

Someplace, Pennsylvania

Anthony Esolen’s article is rich and lyrical. It describes an all-American small town and the slate quarry that was once the economic heart of the community. Some might see the abandoned quarry as an ugly scar on the land. Others see it as a place to test and re-create themselves.

Even with modern equipment and techniques, quarries are risky, difficult places to work. Yet they produce products of great beauty, durability and value. The slate wrestled from the earth serves as superior roofing, tables or flooring. The product is worth the price.

The intended purpose of the quarry is in the past, but it continues to serve as a place where beauty, durability and value are created. Young men use the place as a swimming hole and graffiti wall. They test themselves against the very real risk of falling among the jagged rock, miles and hours from any reasonable help or rescue.

There are two main reasons for their somewhat reckless behavior. The first; the innate male urge to demonstrate their abilities and capabilities. The second; to leave enduring evidence of their passing through a place.

Risk And Reward

Sooner or later, men want to prove or demonstrate their skills and powers. They might try to perform for a large crowd. They may be satisfied if only they themselves know. Regardless of the audience, they want an authentic encounter with their limits. The reward of knowing exceeds the hazard of doing.

The problem is that we have taught ourselves to play it safe. Climbing out of the boat is an insane act. Challenging the might of Pharaoh with a single stick is suicidal at best.

We cannot advance God’s Kingdom from a place of safety and security. At the risk of becoming martyrs we do things that will bring others to Christ. Whether facing a spear in Ecuador, or the unsaved man in the next cubicle, are you willing to put yourself at risk for God’s Kingdom?

Long Term Significance

Every man wants significance. We want to matter, in a weighty way, if only for an hour in our lives. The scars or missing limbs become our badge(s) of honor. “I was there, and I did what needed to be done.”

Michael Card, A Fragile Stone: The Emotional Life of Simon Peter (InterVarsity Press, 2003) 200 pages.

Those of us who have enjoyed Michael Card’s music for many years will be pleasantly surprised to find that he is not only a wonderful musician but also a wonderful author. Through the use of the Gospels and the letters of Peter, Card gives the reader a three dimensional look at Peter. Under Card’s guiding hand the image of Peter comes to life; he is no longer a one dimensional person. Many of us have been told of a Peter who never failed to put his foot in his mouth or of Peter the Rock. Yet there is more to Peter than this.

Card shows how Peter grows in faith and understanding of who Jesus is and the mission Jesus must undertake. Peter’s personal struggles at the coming death of his best friend and the possibility of his own, draws you into the text. Card gives new insight into passages of scripture that challenge our long held assumptions. For example, during the last week of Jesus’ life his followers began to realize that taking the road Jesus was traveling would be dangerous and challenging. Many of them left, preferring to take the easy road. Peter, we have been told, staunchly stays at Jesus’ side. Card gives the reader another possibility, the apostles are tired and perhaps disillusioned, Peter’s affirmation of Jesus as Lord is not one of faith as it is a statement of fact—“You are the Lord, where else can we go?” The question is the same for us, do we decide this Christian life if too difficult or do we acknowledge who Jesus is and trust in him?

Card looks at not only the events of the Gospels, such as Peter’s first miracle of walking on the water, but he also looks deeper. Was the significance of this act the fact that Peter walked on water or the fact that he believed Jesus would save him? Walking on the water did not increase Peter’s faith, but his sinking did. After Peter’s three denials of Jesus, according to Card, when Jesus looked at Peter it was not a look of disdain but of kindness—a look that broke Peter’s heart. It was through this heartbreaking event that the Peter became the Rock. The Lord lets Peter know that he has been forgiven, by three times asking him to feed the sheep thereby counteracting Peter’s denials.

I picked up this book solely because it was written by Michael Card, I believed it would be a very good and I was not disappointed. Peter is just like us, fallible. Just like Peter we doubt, we fear, we make mistakes, yet though all this Card shows us that Peter was firm in his faith and choose Jesus above all else.

Reviewed by Patricia Riley

Publisher’s page: http://www.ivpress.com/cgi-ivpress/book.pl/code=3445

In this review essay, Father William De Arteaga responds to Episcopal Bishop Edward Little’s article “Living with Tares: Why I stay in a Church that has seriously strayed from biblical teaching” that appeared in the March 2006 issue of Christianity Today.

Edward S. Little II, “Living with Tares: Why I stay in a Church that has seriously strayed from biblical teaching” Christianity Today (March 2006), page 69ff.

The Episcopal Bishop Edward Little has given us a thoughtful explanation of why some orthodox believers, including himself, stay within the Episcopal Church. To many Evangelicals it seems incredible why any orthodoxy brother should choose to do so. Those of us who came out of the Episcopal Church recognize Bishop Little’s dilemma, to stay or to leave a denomination that has nurtured us for years. Many orthodox Episcopalians are “hanging on,” awaiting with great expectation that Bishop Robert Duncan of Pittsburgh, with the blessings of the orthodox Archbishops of the Africa and Asia, will lead a renewed orthodox North American Anglicanism separated legally and theologically from the Episcopal Church.

And yet I am bothered by Bishop Little’s argument. Instead of saying he is fighting a rear guard action, protecting his flock, and waiting for a renewed Anglicanism to form, he tries to stake a “higher ground” based on John 17 prayer for Christian unity. This moves his argumentation, I believe, from tactical necessity to erroneous theology by reason of failed discernment and misplaced identity.

Bishop Little frames the argument in terms of letting the good “wheat” grow among “tares,” and then allow for God’s judgment at its proper time (Matt. 13:24-29). Thus the responsibility of separating or not from an apostate church is postponed indefinitely. More to the point, as Bishop he is not looking out for the spiritual safety and security of those entrusted to him. Scripture is very clear about false prophets and teachers as danger to the immature sheep. In Matthew 7:15-19 Jesus warns us of false teachers and prophets in the strongest of terms:

Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thorn bushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. (NIV)

This passage is particularly appropriate for the present situation in the Episcopal Church because those who advocate legitimizing homosexual unions posture themselves as prophets who for a while must suffer calumny, but in the future will be revealed as having pioneered a new truth form God. This delusion is based on liberal theology and its assumption that Holy Scripture is tentative, and the Holy Spirit can go contrary to the plain understanding of the Bible.

Image: Thomas Lefbvre.

My name is Rolf and I’m from Canoas, Brazil. I’m from a Partners in Harvest fellowship: www.comunidadevinde.com.br

My personal ministry is with teaching.

I was searching for articles about inner healing and I found that William De Arteaga, author of Quenching the Spirit (which I have) believes (or believed) in reincarnation (he wrote a book about this in the 80’s). Another article says that Agnes Sanford also believed in something like that.

Could you send me information about this? What do you think about this subject?

God bless you

— Rolf F.

Response

Thank you for writing, Brother F.

I sent along your question to William De Arteaga and he responded:

The quick answer is that I no longer affirm anything I said in Past Life Visions (1983). Someday, like St. Augustine in his old age, I may write an article called “retractions and reconsiderations.” Sealed Orders shows that Agnes Sanford believed in the pre-existent spirit, which is actually biblical, but only now coming into orthodox consciousness. There is nothing in her writings indicating she believed in the doctrine of reincarnation, on the contrary she would often call it a “dreary doctrine.”

The Pneuma Foundation [parent organization for PneumaReview.com] does not believe that reincarnation is a biblical teaching, on the contrary we find the Bible saying that “it is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgment” (Heb 9:27 NKJV). Many of the editors and writers for the publications of the Pneuma Foundation may disagree with the concept of the pre-existent spirit of man.

Thank you again for writing and bringing up this important question.
In the love of the Father,

Raul Mock

Executive Editor, Pneuma Review