The Asbury Revival: A First-Person Account

Photo by Suzanne Nicholson

Feb. 10, 2023, 5:16pm.

I grew up going to revivals and camp meetings. I've seen people shout, run the aisles, and tightrope the backs of pews. I sometimes refer to this sort of thing as "swinging from the chandeliers." That isn't what is taking place at Asbury University in Wilmore, KY. I know, because I just left Hughes Auditorium. 

If you are following the revival on social media, you will know that it began on Wednesday morning. My office is directly across the street at Asbury Seminary. Despite this proximity, as of this morning, I had not put in an appearance. I was not avoiding doing so. I'm simply in a busy season of writing on sacramental theology. 

When it comes to the manifestation of God's presence, I am no skeptic. Quite the contrary. I am a straight up believer that, across space and time, in the most unpredictable of ways, the holiness of God becomes palpable–the enveloping darkness atop Sinai; Isaiah's Woe is me; the light engulfing St. Symeon in his study; laughter in Toronto. 

Around 2:30 this afternoon, I crossed Lexington Avenue and made my way up the stairs of Hughes Auditorium, slipping into a seat on the back row. I wanted to see for myself what was happening. The following is a blow-by-blow account of what I experienced for the next hour and a half. 

I had been seated in the auditorium for less than ten minutes when I came to, by which I mean to say when I suddenly found myself having conscious thoughts about my surroundings and about what I was experiencing. The best way I know to put this is to say that it was as though in just a few short minutes, I had completely zoned out. 

Upon the resumption of deliberative conscious thought, two things stood out to me. First, there was a noticeable lack of tension in my body. I was completely relaxed. There was also a complete lack of mental tension or distraction. My mind was at utter peace. And I had only been there for ten minutes. 

The second thing I recall thinking is that I could sit here in this chair forever. The desire to linger indefinitely was quite unexpected. I had planned to pop in for a few minutes before returning to work. Suddenly, work was the farthest thing from my mind. 

I wound up staying for well over an hour. In the time that I was there, I could not get over certain distinctive qualities about the atmosphere. The words that came to mind were: gentle, sweet, peaceful, serene, tender, still. Some people were singing. Others were talking. Many were praying. But there was something like a blessed stillness permeating the place. No one was swinging from the chandeliers. In fact, it was right the opposite. What made this so wild was just how un-wild the whole thing was ... is. 

So, why leave? After about an hour and half, a particular verse of Scripture impressed itself on my mind–the one about the woman who touched the hem of Jesus' garment. Compared with those who had been there since Wednesday, I was a newcomer in the crowd. But the manifestation of God's holiness, which in this case was, to my mind, a manifestation of sheer peacefulness, was of such a quality that even the most fleeting contact with it is enough. Don't mishear me. I completely understand why so many people want to linger. I did, too. But the peacefulness in that place was so palpable that a mere ten minutes had made an impression that will last the remainder of my lifetime. 

Jason E. Vickers is Professor of Theology at Asbury Theological Seminary and a member of Firebrand’s editorial board.