There are many churches and church movements that say they want revival.
They host conferences about it.
We are asked to pray for it.
There are personalities writing books predicting it.
Churches are selling us a narrative that the whispers and echoes are already happening in their midst.
If you have been following the conversations, at the same time we are told revival and renewal are coming, many of the very movements that once promised renewal are now being questioned, deconstructed, or exposed. The scandals surrounding leaders and ministries in charismatic and Pentecostal circles have forced many Christians to ask an uncomfortable question: Did we mistake platform for revival?
If we don’t answer “yes” to that, we are lying to ourselves and others.
This tension and all the conversations were certainly on my mind recently while reading a short, older book this week, Azusa Street Revival by Clara Davis. Clara Davis was an eyewitness to the early Pentecostal movement that began in Los Angeles in the early 1900s. The book itself is short and simple, probably more reflective than historical, but one line from Davis stopped me in my tracks and made me reflect on others from her as well:
“Revival causes people to come face to face with themselves and with God.”
That sentence alone exposes much of what we call revival and renewal today.
Why? Because notice, when revival is real, it does not primarily produce platforms, personalities, worship labels, books, or brands.
It produces repentance, confession, and surrender.
Revival Confronts Us
The story of Azusa Street is often remembered for its dramatic elements and, at times, its messiness. It is known for claims of speaking in tongues, healings, interracial worship in a segregated era, and spontaneous gatherings that lasted late into the night and spanned classes of people and generations.
Though her book was a collection of what would equate to blog posts today, what Davis’ book emphasizes well is something far less sensational.
Humility.
People came not to watch a personality but to encounter God. Meetings were often unstructured. People sang without instruments. Testimonies erupted spontaneously. Prayer meetings happened early in the morning and stretched late into the night because people were genuinely hungry for God.
Davis remembered it this way:
“People were hungry for God. Special prayer meetings were going on everywhere. God had put a new hope in people’s hearts.”
I love the way she describes it. Undoubtedly, that hunger for the will and way of God, for the presence and promises of God, is what made Azusa contagious. She shares how missionaries carried the story across the United States and around the world. Revival spread not because someone carefully marketed it but because people could not keep quiet about what God was doing.
Compare that with the modern revival circuits and ecosystem.
Today, revival often looks like a brand. It launches worship labels, television shows, and speaking tours. There are t-shirt companies and book deals. Ministries guard their influence. Conferences build platforms. Churches market “moves of God” as spiritual destinations.
Hear this from me: revival that has to be protected, branded, and curated is already in trouble.
When Personality Replaces the Spirit
Recent revelations involving well-known charismatic and Pentecostal leaders have exposed another problem: movements that protect reputations rather than pursue repentance.
When the credibility of a leader becomes more important than the integrity of the church, revival culture quietly becomes celebrity culture. The conversations started by Mike Winger and other critics, in light of major failures at the International House of Prayer and Bethel, are reminding us of the shallowness of what was sold as revival and renewal.
Azusa Street was messy, imperfect, and sometimes chaotic, but I do not believe it was built around personalities. Its defining fruit was surrender. It was an unusual moment when a diverse group of people gathered and knelt, confessed, prayed, and returned home changed.
Modern revivalism too often reverses that order. Instead of humility producing spiritual authority, spiritual authority is assumed through charisma, gifting, or influence.
Davis warned about this imbalance decades ago. She wrote:
“Spirituality without discipline becomes hypocrisy. Prayer without repentance, humility, and faith is anemic and hopeless. Worship without obedience… is like smoke in God’s nostrils.”
That is a prophetic warning to those wanting renewal and revival.
Signs and wonders without character are unstable.
Gifts without fruit eventually collapse.
Church without confession is a club.
Revival Breaks Barriers
For me, one of the most remarkable features of Azusa Street was its unity across social boundaries. Many would agree that this was a major trademark of the gathering.
In a time when America was deeply segregated, people from different races, classes, and backgrounds worshiped together. Davis remembered that when the Spirit moved, “the high places and low places flowed together.”
That is what happens when revival is real. Read that line again.
“the high places and low places flowed together.”
Status collapses.
Pride softens.
Walls come down.
In light of recent conversations, the revival and renewal moments are being deconstructed, and I think that deconstruction is a good thing.
When it is time to rebuild, remember that spiritual pride can easily creep back in. That is true regardless of whether you are Reformed, Charismatic, Pentecostal, or Mainline. Davis warned about another danger for the era that follows (us), collaboration and unity are needed. Afterall this is what Jesus prayed in John 17. Davis remarks that groups isolating themselves behind walls so high that hungry people cannot come and go freely.
This warning still matters.
Every movement is tempted to believe it is the movement.
Every denomination is tempted to believe it alone carries the truth.
But the church is one body. Revival does not belong to a brand, network, or tribe.
Revival Produces Disciples, Not Fans
Another striking element of the Azusa story is what happened after the revival spread.
Missionaries did not build international speaking circuits. They trained local believers to lead their own churches. The goal was not dependence on American leaders but indigenous discipleship.
That is a very different model from the modern platform economy of Christian conferences and celebrity pastors. We don’t find tours, brands, events, and labels in real revival.
Real revival multiplies leaders.
It forms communities.
It trains disciples.
It roots faith in local places and cultures.
Revival is not a show. It is a movement of ordinary people learning to follow Jesus in everyday life.
The Revival We Actually Need
The church does not simply need another personality or conference promising revival.
We need the kind of renewal that forces us to confront ourselves before God.
It is a hunger for the ways and will of God, for the presence and promises of God.
I think that kind that leads to confession rather than hype.
The kind that humbles leaders and heals wounded communities.
The kind that refuses spiritual pride and recognizes the Holy Spirit’s work wherever it appears.
Davis understood this well. Reflecting on her generation, she wrote that every generation must find its own hunger for God. We cannot simply live off the stories of the past.
And perhaps that is the most prophetic challenge of all.
Revival is not something we recreate.
It is something we surrender to.
When it comes, it will not be built around a personality.
It will not depend on a stage. It will not be televised.
It will look much more like this:
People coming face-to-face with God.
And face to face with themselves.
You can read my highlights and quotes from Clara Davis’s Azusa Street Revival and buy the book on Amazon. Also, read my longer review on my personal website.
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