A Look Back: Progressive Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ

A reading of the biography of the late Bishop Joseph David Williams places him squarely in the Lawson movement. A southerner by birth, he joined the first big north-bound wave of migrants and landed in New York City. There Williams encountered Lawson's uptown ministry, which was then a mission only three years into its labors. For the next 11 years, Williams sat under Bishop Lawson's teaching and preaching; absorbed his doctrine; watched and participated in the relatively rapid rise of Refuge Church of Christ as one of Harlem's churches of note; and saw Lawson, whom he met as an elder, transition as an overseer of a growing number of churches.

In 1933, Williams moved to Cleveland, Ohio, with his wife, who was also a member of Refuge. There, as often was the case for saints relocating, there was no church of the same discipline and doctrine as their old church. While the Midwest was, in its way, a fairly active area for Apostolic Pentecostals, the Williamses started a church in their area. Like many of the churches started in the earliest stages of Lawson's Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ, this church took the name "Church of Christ," distinguishing itself with a prenomial caress that evoked both religious piety and a story marked by travel, "Pilgrim." 

All available reports show the new pastor following very closely in Lawson's path, from the very beginning. William's embraced a style of worship that combined the reverent with the jubilant, and preached a doctrine that gave ease and hypocrisy no place. Williams was a little over 40 when he started his church; Lawson had been just under 40. Finally, Pilgrim Church of Christ, like Refuge, had its beginning in a home prayer meeting.

The pivotal moment in Williams' life was his call to Columbia, South Carolina, 11 years later. His wife's neice lay in a sick bed and did not seem to be recovering. Elder Williams' wife, Bessie, went down to aid in her care. According to the organization's history, Sister Williams had been fasting for a week when her help was requested. After some 21 days, she asked her husband to come and pray for her bedridden neice, and the day after prayer, the neice was well enough to sit up and eat. The Williamses shared the apostolic message of salvation with Bessie's neice, Helen, and baptized her. Eight days later, she received the gift of the Holy Ghost. 

The whole series of events -- protracted illness, prayer, healing, and infilling -- impressed upon Elder Williams, who had not anticipated ever moving south again, to consider Columbia as the venue of a new move of God. Over the next two months, Williams met with Lawson to resign his pastorate and left with his wife permanently for South Carolina, where they started a church that grew into an organization.

This separation was so anticlimactic, so free of conflict, that the writer almost naturally digresses into a further recounting of the history of what is today known as the Progressive Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ, which evolved independently of but in tandem with Lawson's organization. For instance, Williams is said to have called upon Lawson to "rededicate" the first house of worship built by the young congregation, which seems to mean that, though Lawson was not able to be present at the initial dedication, Williams insisted on making Lawson a part of the church's early history. Lawson did not make any recorded attempts to absorb Williams' work into his larger organization, even though Lawson's organization had had a presence in South Carolina since the 1920s.

In a sense, the story of Williams' Progressive Church combines two stories. One is that of the early Pentecostal pioneer whose life is marked by mission work and supernatural testimonies wherever they go. A child or grandchild of Azusa, the pioneer minister or missionary centers his or her life around the call of God to an area or a particular type of spiritual labor. Because this person is sent by God, he or she is gifted above the norm with energy, influence, and scriptural conviction, which, among other things, helps sustain his or her efforts. This person overcomes or outlasts adversity many times and is held up an as example of the spiritual and material success that God makes available to those that obey Him. Williams and Lawson both fit this narrative.

Our view of Williams' life is also informed by a narrative that emerged as Pentecost developed as a social phenomenon, and that is the faithful disciple narrative. Williams, reserved but direct, had come into his success by being faithful and consistent in his walk with God, which was demonstrable by his life in the church. He had proven himself teachable as a new member, trustworthy as a new husband, and capable as a new pastor, all in the sight of other saints and his pastor. When God in his divine timing needed someone to send to Columbia, He remembered the faithfulness of Elder Williams. When Williams responded affirmatively to God's call to Columbia, God honored him by prospering his work.

While Lawson's work in the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World fits this narrative, it is one that could also be more widely applied, as churches began to multiply in places where Pentecost had already been heralded. Smallwood Williams, who was sent by Lawson to Washington, D.C., had also established a track record of faithfulness to God and loyalty to the church, which befit his later success as a preacher and pastor of one the District's largest congregations.

One reaches for narratives to justify such a peaceful ecclesiastical birthing, with the assumption being that most new organizations are birthed out of conflict. Not having the time to measure the various dimensions of that assumption, let it be sufficient to point out that church separations are, at the core, personal separations. Such was Lawson's separation from G.T. Haywood, and so would Smallwood Williams' separation be from Lawson.

As for the future Bishop Joseph Williams, ways in which his ministry took cues from Bishop Lawson have already been demonstrated. To add to that, both were tall; both believed in the superiority of the apostolic doctrine, believed in moving decisively on divine instructions (the Progressive congregation went from cottage meetings to a borrowed building to building their own church in a little over a year!). Both were strict disciplinarians. Both had their leadership styles questioned, with both suffering splits to their work near the end of their lives.

There is a saying in national government, "All politics is local." Similarly, all church is personal, despite popular conception of "the church" as an institution. Lawson's conflict with Smallwood Williams was not some inevitable event stemming from the nature of church as an organization. Decisions were made; conflict was actively stoked. The story of the Progressive Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ is a gentle but firm rebuke to the notion that peaceful separations are necessarily rare. Indeed, Progressive continued to embrace not only Lawson, but Hubert Spencer and William Bonner, even as it maintained an almost parallel existence to the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Southeast.

All church is personal, and we have been examining the personality of Bishop Lawson in the context of his relationships with his ministers. On the other side of this conflict was Bishop Smallwood Williams, who was roundly admired, both in his organization and in his local community. In what ways did his personality play into this separation? Let's examine Smallwood Williams in our next few articles.

A Look Back: Comments

In the course of revisiting some old posts, the writer regrets depriving readers of some cogent comments that were made on an article that no longer appears on this blog. With significant pleasure, they are made available again below.

A Look Back: The Way of the Cross Church of Christ

When Robert C. Lawson began to evangelize Washington, D.C., he had both a profound impact and mixed success. His apostolic gift was such that establishing a mission was all but a given. Elder Lawson, no niggard with pulpit work, sent at least one other preacher down to continue the work, and among those who were turned to the Apostolic Pentecostal message was one Henry Chauncey Brooks, a North Carolinian recently come up after the death of his father. This was in 1925.

Not long after his conversion, Brooks was called the ministry but was not affiliated with any Pentecostal organization.Though he had accepted Jesus'-name soteriology, Brooks retained membership in a Baptist church; he was ultimately disfellowshiped due to his newly espoused doctrinal views.

Brooks and a group of believers attempted to found an independent Pentecostal congregation. Before the group could get established, the building they met in was sold from under them. All but a few of that initial congregation disintegrated, with a core group continuing to meet in saints' homes for prayer and worship. When they reestablished themselves as a congregation with an edifice, the words of a hymn they had often sung, "I must go home by the way of the cross," furnished their new name, Way of the Cross Church of Christ (WOTC).

All this while, Brooks was looking for an organization with which to fellowship, but were turned down by all but the newly reorganized Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ, led by now Bishop Lawson. Lawson chartered the church and recognized Brooks as its pastor.

Even then, Lawson had also sent one of his own elders to pastor the small mission that his evangelistic work had birthed. Smallwood Williams, a young preacher, had taken charge of a work that, though in its infancy, was firmly established enough to support Williams financially. Like Brooks, many were Southerners migrating north. Newcomers to Washington responded favorably to Williams' sermons and augmented his street meeting with spirituals sung in the old rural tradition. As one might imagine, the combination of good singing and good preaching attracted a lot of attention.

Over time, Williams' congregation grew and grew. Whatever Lawson had originally named it, Williams rechristened it as the Bible Way Church. The jewel of Lawson's efforts in the Mid-Atlantic, Bible Way became the hub of the movement in the Maryland and Virginia area, rising at times to national prominence. Bishop Lawson did much to encourage this strategically planted church, being as it was in the nation's capital.

While Williams' work was growing rather rapidly, Brooks's church was also growing. His patient, kind pastoral manner contributed to a loyal, stable congregation. Along with Williams and Samuel Kelsey of the Temple Church of God in Christ, H.C. Brooks is one of the Pentecostal fathers of the Distric of Columbia. Brooks and his small independent had survived eviction and denominational rejection, and were now aligned with one of the most respected names in Pentecost.

It is important at this point to mention that, though the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ was an organization, the churches themselves exercised a great deal of independence and self-governance. The largest churches, though loyal to Lawson, necessarily exercised a de facto autocephaly, making the best decisions they could for the health and progress of the movement locally. Smaller parishes, whether birthed from the larger churches or not, had a client relationship with the largest local church. This relationship, more less, still holds.

This understanding is helpful in making sense of the still unclear disagreement that led to Brooks's exit from Lawson's organization. Not long after Sherrod Johnson left, taking with him an episcopal title and several churches, Lawson thought it would be a good idea to consolidate the work in Washington. Goes this version of the Way of the Cross separation, Lawson brought up the possibility of merging Brooks's church with Williams' church. It is no leap to infer that Lawson seemed to think one church was well on its way, and the other one, not so much. Indeed, the bishop had little compunction about showing favor to his more well educated ministers. We have no way of knowing what Brooks read into this plan, but it is only reasonable that Brooks and his membership, having worked so hard thus far, would not want to fold tent and come under an unfamiliar pavilion just because someone thought it was a good idea.

Nonetheless, Lawson continued pushing for the consolidation of the two ministries. Brooks had nothing against Williams, but his congregation and Williams' congregation were of different dynamics. Rather than go through with this proposed merger, Brooks pulled out of the organization in 1933, and the church reestablished its independence. Eventually other ministries would be birthed from Brooks's ministry, and Way of the Cross Church of Christ, chartered by Lawson, became the mother church of an organization. Today Way of the Cross Church of Christ International thrives and enjoys amicable fellowship with the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ and the Bible Way churches.

This version of the WOTC separation reveals what people saw in Lawson as his autocratic tendencies. Not long before, Lawson had changed the title of "bishop" to "overseer" as a preventative measure against young men becoming conceited. Now he was telling a seasoned preacher in the 30s to submit his ministry and membership to a young man in his 20s. The older preacher had founded his church; the younger preacher had been given his church. One was a rural-born self-starter; the other was academic, raised in the city.

But none of this seemed to matter to Lawson. A forceful, type-A personality, Lawson was a naturally self-confident man of action, never without an argument to justify his decisions. Lawson's soul-winning efforts were served by these characteristics; his leadership, not so much. Bishop Lawson did not always seriously entertain the notion of someone else having a valid perspective that was not somehow similar to his own.

In fact, in a 1958 article (reprinted in For the Defense of the Gospel) recounting separations in the Pentecostal movement, Lawson brings up Brooks, now bishop of his own movement. In Lawson's version of the story, some 25 years in retrospect, Brooks is pegged as one of a generation of young preachers who wanted to be called a bishop and would use any reason to separate from their parent organization and realize this goal.  Brooks left, according to Lawson, because he was not asked to speak in "the national convention." Lawson tilted at this alleged pettiness by asserting that he was not aware that Brook "had the, or a, message." ("'The' message" refers to the practice among early Pentecostals of yielding the floor when a preacher seemed to be particularly gifted to bring forth "the" God-ordained message for the hour, in this case a message for the 1929 convention.) Lawson's index of rogues also included Sherrod Johnson, another unnamed minister of raw episcopal ambition, and Randolf Carr, whose departure from the Church of God in Christ struck Lawson as suspect.

In a way, it was an utter lack of self-doubt that seems to have handicapped Lawson. His preaching was second to none; his doctrine was sound through and through; his ability to organize and delegate was unquestionable. People flocked to his church yearly to report on the affairs of churches he and his ministers had founded, and though Pentecost as a whole was disparaged, Lawson and his movement were embraced in media and respected in the street. Why would anyone want to leave? A disagreement? Lawson was not one to avoid conflict; welcomed it, even, especially when he knew he was right. His ministers admired his backbone, until they found themselves in opposition to him.

All told, the WOTC split was a fairly quiet incident, yet it continued a pattern of resolving conflict through separation. The unfortunate result of this pattern is that Pentecostals of later generations knew little else. Further, some would mistakenly interpret what at the time might have been a more or less dry, technical separation as indicative of a much meatier disagreement, even when there was none. In this case, the WOTC split is almost negligible in its impact. Brooks's doctrine afterwards was essentially the same as Lawson's doctrine: water baptism by immersion in Jesus' name, baptism in the Holy Ghost with signs following, modesty of dress, and no women preachers. Though no longer aligned with Lawson's organization, Brooks remained committed to Lawson's principles. From his Washington pulpit, Brooks, too, began to evangelize by way of radio. As with the mother church, WOTC's national growth has been steady, stable, and largely unaffected by Brooks's separation from Lawson.

There are those who are under the mistaken impression that these splits were necessary and inevitable. Some laud Williams' decision as unavoidable in the face of Lawson's unbearably difficult managerial style. We know this is not true, not least of all because Williams, by all accounts, was Lawson's favored son. In addition to this, there is another thriving group whose separation and development involved no conflict at all. In our next article, we'll look back at an often overlooked Lawsonite group with deep roots in the Pentecostal movement: the Progressive Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

The Bible Way Split: Young Bishops

The earliest Pentecostals were not at all anticipating creating a new denomination. However, when many of their churches refused to retain them as members, missionaries, or ministers, they were compelled to leave and find (or create) a group that would accept them. Unevenly, fellowships and associations took form. Some former Holiness groups, like the Fire Baptized churches and the Churches of God in Christ, espoused Seymour's doctrine and became Pentecostal organizations; these churches were representative of the Holiness movement of the South, where the term "Holiness Church" became the common way of referring to Pentecostal churches. This was not the case everywhere.

As Pentecostal groups became more organized, another important issue surfaced: church polity. While a good number of preachers had come into Pentecost voluntarily, some had been kicked out of their old groups. The preachers who composed the early core of Pentecostal clergy represented almost every stripe of Protestantism there was. So from the beginning, there were those who were accustomed to congregational government; others who preferred government by synod; and still others expecting a hierarchy to emerge. 

Generally, after racial divisions reemerged in the movement, predominantly European groups tended toward looser associative organizations, led by a voting presbytery; on the other hand, organizations mainly populated by those of African descent began, by and large, to choose episcopal forms of government. Pervading the whole movement was a tinge of congregationalism: members carried out church discipline among themselves and called pastors to their vacant pulpits. Whatever national oversight churches had, was not usually in a position to carry kind of decision-making power that one would have encountered in Methodism or other mainline churches.

Bishop R. C. Lawson, interestingly, was. Unlike many of the earliest Pentecostal clergy, Lawson was spiritually born into this movement. Though he was from a family of Baptist preachers, he had not been converted in that tradition. When he entered the ministry, there was no aversion to strict superintendency. He had not known the rejection that others before him had experienced. 

One example that comes to mind is the case of Rev. William Pendleton, one of the early officers of the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World. Pendleton was a Holiness pastor in Los Angeles. He and a large segment of his membership began associating with William Seymour's church at 312 Azusa St., and they brought news and witness of their Pentecostal experience back to their home church. Unfortunately, their testimony was rejected outright by Holiness leadership in their area; Holiness churches, ironically, were some of the most vociferous opponents of this new branch of their movement. Pendleton and the spirit-filled group were disfellowshipped and turned out of the building they had worked to purchase. Soon they joined Frank Bartleman at his mission on the corner or Eighth and Maple; some years later, Bartleman turned the pastorate over to Pendleton.

When Pendleton was an officer of the P.A. of W., it was little more than a loose association of churches. There were no bishops; in fact, Pendleton is listed as "Bro. Pendleton," a common means of address among clergy that reveals the egalitarian ideal that prevailed in those days.

However, when Brother Lawson came into Pentecost -- and especially when he entered ministry -- strict oversight was the means of his entry. He came to Christ Temple a total novice; seeing someone receive the Holy Ghost sitting in their seat, he went and sat in the same seat in order to be filled, before someone taught him otherwise. As a young ministerial candidate, he was forbidden by his pastor, Elder Garfield T. Haywood, to read any book besides the Bible, which they read in its entirety six times a year. Lawson was part of a young cadre of young ministers whose doctrinal instruction was extremely disciplined and closely watched. The fruit of this training was such that all of these men became leaders of note in the growing P.A. of W.

When Elder Lawson founded his own organization, this sense of strict training was ingrained in him. The only hurt he had known was the rejection of uneducated laity whose regard for Haywood's charismatic authority had diminished his ability to challenge what he saw as unscriptural views on divorce and remarriage. Determined on one hand to duplicate and improve upon the rigorous training he had received, and eager on the other hand to create a community of scripturally informed, well-educated congregants (as opposed to what he had dealt with in the Midwest), Elder Lawson embraced episcopal church government, but made many allowances for the empowerment of the congregation. Because Elder Lawson had a knack for planting churches, it was natural for him to develop in every church the kind of discipline he thought was necessary to create the kind of organization he envisioned.

As time passed, the churches that made up Lawson's Refuge Churches of Christ were presented with the option to fully incorporate. All church property would become the property of the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the official new name of the organization. Elder Lawson would become the bishop of the organization, and he had the authority to appoint and remove pastors. Quite a few churches pulled out of the organization during this "revolution," which took place in the mid-1920s. However, those were mostly churches that Lawson himself had not started. Up and down the Eastern Seaboard were churches that were started, directly or indirectly by Elder -- now Bishop -- Lawson. They weren't going anywhere. Bishop Lawson was well-loved, even by the ministers and churches who left. (They were not comfortable with being sent from the churches they had sacrificed for, so they demurred.)

Clearly, authority in this new arrangement flowed principally from Bishop Lawson to his appointed ministers. Lawson was not stingy with opportunity, though. Young ministers, as young as 18, were sent to take charge of churches. As the organization grew and churches began to branch out in different parts of their various states, Bishop Lawson was eager to appoint bishops to oversee and encourage growth nationally. Young Smallwood Williams became bishop of the District of Columbia and Maryland. Another of Lawson's spiritual sons, Thomas Jefferson Richardson, would be appointed bishop of South Carolina, even while he pastored in New York.

There was one especially promising minister from North Carolina: Elder Sherrod C. Johnson. A commanding presence, Johnson was given charge of the Refuge Church of Christ in Philadelphia. He was one of the first men appointed as bishops in the organization; his oversight comprised Pennsylvania and North Carolina. A product of Lawson's Haywoodesque mentorship, Johnson was unusually well-versed in scripture. His charisma was equivalent to Lawson's own, but his sense of discipline was much, much firmer.

Lawson came into Pentecost when what was not expressly endorsed in scripture was taken to be unscriptural. This was not limited to Pentecostals, but certainly reflected the movement's biblicist Holiness roots. Choirs, musical accompaniment, and hymnals: Unscriptural. Eyeglasses, neckties, and jewelry: prideful, and unscriptural. Newspapers, secular education. religious education: unnecessary, and unscriptural. Bishop Lawson made it a point to cry against these prohibitions. He featured choirs and singing groups at his church, and installed an organ at 133rd St. Men could wear whatever color ties they pleased. Members were encouraged to get an education and a good job, and Lawson founded one of the earliest Pentecostal Bible schools to give sound training to his ministers. At times, Lawson, known to wear pince-nez glasses, could be found walking through 133rd St with several newspapers in the jacket pockets of his baggy suits.

That was all well and good, but Johnson had other bones to pick with Lawson. Women's clothing styles were changing, and Johnson felt that Bishop Lawson was much too lax. Conservative Southerner that he was, Johnson found resonance with many of Lawson's followers when he drew attention to the worldly styles that were coming in the church: make-up, pressed hair, and, perhaps most scandalously, open-toed shoes. Saints, in Johnson's opinion, were to continue the holiness of their forebears sartorially: dark colors, long dresses, high-top shoes, and natural face and hair. While Johnson's complaints were actually reflective of the practice of most of the Pentecostal movement at the time, in Johnson's estimation, the fact that an earring or open-toed shoe could make its way inside Refuge Temple unimpeded was evidence enough that Bishop Lawson was not the godly leader he claimed to be. Johnson -- Bishop Johnson -- pulled out and caused the first major schism of the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ. He called his group the Church of the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Johnson's ultra-conservative following splintered after his death. Several descendants of that group -- the late Randolph Goodwin; Gino Jennings; Tony Smith -- became well-known either for their ultra-conservative dress code, or for their Johnson-like polemical preaching. To this day, long skirts, hats (or heavy veils) and cotton stockings are the mode of dress for women. High heels are not common, and open-toe shoes are altogether absent. Men wear dark suits (mainly black) and ties. Children's dress resembles that of their parents. This is not to say that Bishop Lawson's group was not also conservative; it would be more accurate to say that, despite the same tendencies in dress in Lawson's churches, there was much more flexibility in choice of color and other details relating to dress. (N.B.: Dress codes have historically been one of the primary cultural expressions of Pentecostal churches. You can tell a lot about a church's degree of discipline by looking for just one of the things mentioned in the above previous paragraphs.)

While the organization survived this split, Lawson came to the conclusion that his young ministers were getting the wrong impression about the term "bishop." If Johnson, not much older that Smallwood Williams, thought the title "bishop" gave him the authority to assail the character and reputation of the undisputed leader and founder, perhaps other ministers would follow Johnson's example and use ultimately unimportant disagreements in order to wrest a few churches from the organization. 

Shortly after the split, which occurred somewhere between 1930 and 1933, Bishop Lawson changed the title of bishop to overseer. Bishop Lawson understood that the terms were exchangeable, as both are used in scripture to translate the Greek word episkopos. Lawson himself would keep the title of bishop as "senior bishop with life tenure" of the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Within the organization, parishioners would continue to refer to their state overseers as bishops. However, outsiders might be confused by the difference in official and unofficial nomenclature. Of course, the title "overseer" carried not the ring of "bishop." Lawson himself generally referred to them as "Elder So-and-so": elder, overseer, bishop, it was all the same to him, scripturally speaking. 

In retrospect, it is clear that this titular change did more to preserve Lawson's personal authority than it did to preserve the integrity of the organization. The person against whom Lawson was reacting -- Johnson -- had left and would not have taken correction, much less a demotion. From his Philadelphia pulpit (the one Lawson sent him to), Johnson challenged any and every one he could, claiming to be the only one preaching the whole truth. (He shared this characteristic with Bishop C. M. Grace, but that's another story...) He and Bishop Lawson clashed by way of radio. Johnson, however, a wealthy man later in life, ended up separating from his wife and children ... who were taken care of by Bishop Lawson. Lawson exposed news about his former protege on the radio in hopes of killing his influence.

Alas, none of Lawson's preaching or exposes could break Johnson's following. That would happen internally, and not because the women were tired of looking like "happy hooligans," to use Bishop Lawson's description of the outdated way Johnson's female disciples had to dress. Meanwhile, Lawson's own ministers were paying the debt that Johnson incurred. The title of "bishop" had been shelved for a much less prestigious, much more functional title of "overseer." I imagine that, given the similarity to AME state assignments, and given the unavoidable fellowship with the Church of God in Christ, where state bishops were also the norm, Lawson's overseers may have chafed at the fact that so simple a thing as the title bishop was being withheld. Clearly, COOLJC's overseers were the counterpart to bishops in other episcopal organizations. Nevertheless, presenting yourself as "Overseer So-and-so" when you knew you were really a bishop, or worthy of the title at least, must have felt at least a little humiliating. 

Additionally, the bishop, the one who assigned you the task of overseeing a whole state at your own charges, was just as likely to call you by a much more general title, elder. How could Bishop Lawson have been so oblivious to his ministers' discontent? We'll explore Lawson's understanding of the office of bishop in an upcoming article, but let's look back at two other organizations that were emerged from Lawson's movement.

A Look Back: Rags to Riches

Robert C. Lawson had a gift for organizing churches and taking the gospel and the Pentecostal message to untouched territory. He installed pastors and sent missionaries to parishes all over the world. He traveled quite a bit himself and endured many dangers for the sake of the gospel. He was one of Harlem's shining stars. One European minister, visiting Massachusetts, made a special trip to Harlem after hearing Bishop Lawson on the radio, complementing him on his ministerial accomplishments, in spite of racial oppression. Ebony listed him among the most influential preachers of Harlem.

While Lawson was having his day, many of the ministers he oversaw were doing the difficult work of building the churches he started. Some of them had to take second jobs to make ends meet; financial support was not a guarantee. While Bishop Lawson's star was rising, he seemed all but oblivious to the growing dissatisfaction with his way of doing things.

One exchange that essentially captures his leadership style came in the form of an answer to a question someone posed:

QUESTION 48: To what do you largely attribute your success?

ANSWER: To finding God's will concerning myself and others, abiding in it, and constraining others to do likewise. (Defense, 441)

"Constraining" other ministers to labor in anonymity and impecunity certainly seems harsh, but Lawson was only holding his ministers to the same standard he had been held to. His ascent to acclaim and affluence had not been on a bed of ease.

Lawson lost both his parents at a young age and was raised by an aunt. He spent some time at the Howe Institute, a boarding school in New Iberia, and it appears that his life was what we might consider middle class. As a young man, he traveled the continent, drinking, gambling, playing piano and singing the blues in night clubs. When he contracted tuberculosis, his good times came to an end. His conversion was the last nail in the coffin of his old life. Saved, unemployed, and not long after called to the ministry, Brother Lawson was broke. G.T. Haywood's daughter recalls him purchasing a bicycle early on in his ministry. Before then, he would walk everywhere he went, and even had to put cardboard in his shoes when he wore out the soles. Because Indianapolis was a big city with public transportation, we can assume he couldn't afford to pay the little travel fare it would cost to go to the market where he would preach outdoors.

Lawson became established in ministry, and his reputation as a preacher grew. He converted an entire congregation to the Oneness Pentecostal view of the Godhead, and traveled here and there starting missions that eventually grew into stable congregations, throughout the Midwest. Eventually he settled down in Columbus, Ohio, where he founded a church that took up where another mission had begun. That church grew and grew, but he wasn't there long when he felt called to go to New York City to start a work. He got there by preaching from church to church, and finally arrived in Manhattan with five cents in his pocket. Miraculously, he met a man on his way to a prayer meeting, and joining a few believers in a basement on 40th Street, he found his opportunity to begin a work there. As he did in Indianapolis, he preached on the street, among what would be termed the least desirable elements of the city. Two couples opened their shared townhouse to him, and a church was born.

Elder and Sister Lawson, ca. 1918

Elder Lawson didn't start out with a car, nice clothes, or even his own home. He preached on the streets by day, conducted services by night, and baptized as many as desired in the East River. A thin man for most of his life, the baggy suits he wore indicate a modest income at best. When the house church grew to about 200 congregants, Lawson found real estate on one of the worst blocks of Harlem. People who knew 133rd Street nicknamed it Beale Street, because it was just as violent and crime-ridden as Beale Street in Memphis. Here Lawson preached, prayed, and lived, housing himself, his family, and other church workers in the church building. The effect this arrangement had on the block was such that the street got a new nickname: Hallelujah Boulevard. Lawson opened businesses -- a grocery store, a bookstore, a daycare -- up and down the block, generating income for him, his parishioners, and the church.

Not long after, opportunities opened to Lawson to spread the gospel by way of radio. He initially went down to the radio station (perhaps daily) and preached from the studio. However, a new invention allowed for radio broadcasts to be made remotely, and Lawson's church was the first to hold on-air radio broadcasts. From there, his work went national, and the rest is history.

No one had financed his evangelistic trips. What money he received was due to the kindness of the people who supported him. Being a general superintendent of the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World had only provided him with a charge and the authority to travel in the name of an organization; whatever his needs were, they were addressed day by day, service by service. When he arrived in New York, he built and enriched the church, not the other way around.

Everyone knew his story, and certainly many aspired to duplicate his success in their own lives. In time, focus began to condense around something that Lawson had that his subordinates could not easily acquire: the title of "bishop." As we return to the story of the Bible Way schism, we'll examine how Lawson manipulated the use of ecclesiastical titles for disciplinary purposes.

A Look Back: Settling In

In 1946, a young William Lee Bonner arrived at Michigan Central Station. He made his way to the church on Orleans St. that he had visited once before. He was now the pastor of that church, which was housed in an old bakery building. There was no money for immediate repairs for the church, so even though it had upstairs apartments, Bonner first lodged with the saints (And the High Place, 31-32).

The church was slow to warm up to Bonner for a number of reasons (High Place, 33-34). For one thing, even though he could be called a Lawsonite due to his close association with Bishop Lawson, Bonner was a true Lawsonite in the sense of making his ministry his full-time profession. Because the church was small, they assumed he would take at least part-time employment; that did not happen. Moreover, as Bonner began to express ideas about improving the church building, he met opposition to his "fancy ideas." One big difference between Bonner and the outgoing pastor he was replacing was that (at the time), Bonner was "no preacher"--that is, his rhetorical practice was "a bit boring."

Above all the aforementioned reasons was this one: the church as a whole did not agree with the removal and replacement of their old minister, one Elder Vinson. It would not be far-fetched to assume that much of what they resented about Bonner corresponded to what they liked about Elder Vinson, who we can picture as a sometime bivocational pastor with a mature preaching style that moved congregants. The church was slow to get over Lawson's decision to remove Elder Vinson, and well after Bonner had assumed the pastorate, some members "kept up strife and sent false reports... concerning the Bonners" (High Places, 33).

Though this church was firmly established as a group, the Bonners did not have it easy. Financial support was not reliable. Only if supportive members attended service could Elder Bonner expect any income for him, Mrs. Bonner, and their new baby. Their dinners were very humble: beans, gravy, very little meat (High Places, 33). During sermons, Bonner has often recounted how neck bone was the only meat they could afford in those early times. In addition, Elder Bonner's wardrobe was in terrible repair. While preaching, he wore a cape, but underneath the cape he wore suits that were "shiny" and "creaseless." He wore out some of the knees of his pants in prayer, and wore his shoe soles "so thin until the outline of his feet could be seen" (High Places, 34).

Bishop Lawson did come by once to "straighten things out" when rumors reached him in New York about the Bonners. However, as with Elder Lymus Johnson, there was no financial underwriting. There is record that Bishop Lawson did, here and there, send financial support to churches in need, but perhaps by Lawson's estimation, this did not really need more than a firm reprimand for the insubordination of a few "troublemakers." Consider the facts: The church was small and relatively young, but already had a strong, experienced core group. Bonner was, after all, not their first pastor, and they had been taught to support the ministry with tithes and offerings. Rather than get involved, Lawson reiterated: Elder Bonner was their pastor. That was that.

Eventually, the church began recover. A portion of the church sought membership elsewhere, which increased Bonner's ratio of support among those who remained. The tiny continuing membership connected with Bonner's sincerity and prayerfulness. Bonner's wife, Sister Ethel Mae Bonner (née Smith), began noonday prayer services and a choir (High Places, 280). An experienced construction worker, Bonner began making improvements on the old bakery building with the help of some of the church brethren  (High Places, 34).

Membership and revenue increased little by little, and after a while, "Bonner was able to buy an old used car," which he used to reach out to Cardboard Valley, a nearby community. Carloads of children were picked up for Sunday School, and eventually some of their parents followed. Bonner also established fellowships with other churches nearby, "which represented many denominations"; the mutual support afforded by the church's interdenominational relationships gave the church greater visibility in the community and brought in additional finances (High Places, 35-36).

Finally, the anointing began to overshadow Bonner's ministry. His homilies, heretofore "a bit boring," were now evangelistic in their focus, becoming the spiritual climax (rather than anticlimax) of what were already lively services (High Places, 36, 34), Three years into his pastorate, a visitor was spontaneously baptized in the Holy Ghost during a Sunday night musical. The experience "surprised" the church and young pastor, but surprise gave way to "great joy" (High Places, 36, 192).

To put things in perspective, it took over three years for Elder Bonner to establish himself in Detroit. Though the church was established, increasing the church's membership and its influence in the community was very hard work. Perhaps the hardest part of pastoring was being accepted by the church to which one was appointed. Of course, the prize of this sort of acceptance is the privilege doing more hard work: taking the lead in fundraising; initiating building campaigns; dealing with the personal and financial problems that inevitably occur in the course of ministry.

Often, church divisions are portrayed as the unhappiness of a few power-thirsty men bent on taking what they desire by force. While that certainly does occur, in the context of the present series, it suddenly seems reasonable that, after investing so much time and energy into a church and community for years, or decades, some of Lawson's maturing young preachers would find being overruled by a somewhat detached, geographically distant, financially absent patriarch hard to accept. More and more, it seemed, Bishop Lawson, wealthy and celebrated, was somewhat out of touch with the difficult concrete work of his pastors and with their expectations of him as a leader.

Bishop Bonner calls the 1957 separation "a confusing time" (High Places, 73); his decision to stay with Lawson was reached in prayer. Others reached their decisions by other means. We'll examine the events that began to foment dissatisfaction and that led ultimately to reformation among the brethren in the near future. First, though, let's examine Lawson's own life and ascension to affluence in light of the privations suffered by those who served with him.

A Look Back: Young Recruits

Elder Robert C. Lawson was a highly effective evangelist. Early on in his ministry, he was a field superintendent in the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World. He traveled throughout the country preaching wherever doors were opened  to him. Sometimes he preached in the open air, but often he evangelized churches. This history gives a succinct description of this aspect of Lawson's ministry:

Elder Robert C. Lawson, a great pioneer of Pentecost, traveled throughout the country preaching the Apostolic message and establishing churches. He had a special anointing on his ministry that enabled him to go into cities where there had been no previous Pentecostal activity and find a place to preach. Many souls would come to be saved.

During these evangelistic trips, Lawson would organize those who embraced his doctrine and found a new Pentecostal church in the area. Clearly, he could not pastor all the churches he started, so there was a demand for capable young ministers to take charge of (and grow) these new churches.

In his early ministry, Lawson recruited young PAW ministers, like Elder Herbert Spencer, who began his ministry as a traveling evangelist with Lawson. After the dissension at the Church of Christ, Spencer was installed as pastor of the minority group of about 200 that left the church in support of Lawson's teaching. Spencer led the reorganized group under the name of Rehoboth Church of Christ.

Spencer, who later succeeded Lawson as presider of the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ, was just one of quite a few ecclesiastical heavyweights whose ministries began with or were catalyzed by Lawson's influence. Another is Bishop Austin Layne. The above quotation comes from a history that praises Layne as "a strong organizer" and credits him with "establish[ing] the Temple Church of Christ in 1922 ... the oldest Apostolic church in the [St. Louis, Mo.] area." However, in a 1959 article entitled "Honor to Whom Honor is Due," Bishop Lawson recalls Layne's beginnings in St. Louis as

another classic example of an Elder who was brought to a church by me. I personally told him of a church that I had founded there, and offered to give it to him if he came out West. At that time I was pastoring in Columbus, Ohio. Later on, he said he would pray over it, which he claimed he did, and God spoke to him and said St. Louis. He came to see me in Columbus, Ohio, where I pastored. He preached for me.

We took up an offering for him and escorted him and his family to the church in St. Louis. We appointed him the pastor, the saints accepted him; he was put in charge of the church: I took up an offering for him and his family. He has prospered greatly and has been promoted to the bishoprick of his organization. (Defense, 409)

Lawson then shares his disappointment that "[n]ever once has he made mention as I can remember that it was I, Bishop R.C. Lawson, who preached on the streets, founded the church, and turned it over to him" (Defense, 409).

Layne was perhaps a convenient example for Lawson to help drive home a point concerning another appointee of his. In the article, Lawson refers to this minister anonymously as

A certain Elder who was appointed to a church with a membership that was able to support him without working. 

The Lord straightway blessed him and prospered his work. 

He bought a lot, built a fine church, but when he laid the cornertstone after the church was completed he was so dishonest and selfish, he engraved his name as co-founder, but in the place where the real founder's name should have been placed, he left that vacant.... 

He stated that he founded the church by preaching on the streets, a water plug was his pulpit, he gave no credit to anyone in bringing him there and assigning him to the church. He developed the church as true, but did not start or found it. He changed the name of the Church of Our Lord Jesus Christ to a certain name. Later he split off from the parent body and named his church National Organization after the name of his local church.

He should have been honest enough to name the other man who founded his church and appointed him to the pastorage. (Defense, 409)

Of course, the person Lawson speaks of is Smallwood Williams. Everything he says is true. However, the truth about these appointments belies the reality of the work of pastoring and expanding a church. History bears out, for instance, that, even if Williams didn't found the church, he had preached on the street corners of Washington, D.C., and even though he didn't found the church, he certainly established it, built it, made it viable.

While Lawson rightly takes credit for the initial breakthroughs that came through his ministry, it was rarely the case that these churches were beyond the initial stages of development. For instance, when Lawson brought Elder Layne to the church at St. Louis, what Layne encountered (according to this article) was "a storefront that seated 25, but had only 'a half-dozen attending.'" A church, indeed, had been conceived through Lawson's preaching, but the work of building the church was Layne's. (Incidentally, the article in entitled "Our Founder, Bishop Austin A. Layne, Sr.")

A very clear picture of the naure of a Lawsonite assignment comes to us from an ostensibly unlikely source. Rhythm-and-blues singer Darlene Love mentions Bishop Lawson as "a Pentecostal legend" in her autobiography, All You Need Is Love. Raised in the Pentecostal Assemblies of the World, she was the daughter of a preacher who left his California assistant pastorship in 1951 on the heels of "a mild scandal." Love's father, Joe Wright, accepted an appointment to a church in Texas after Bishop Lawson visited them and offered him the pastorate. Love's bubbly, humorous tone becomes blatantly ironic as she recalls her famly's arrival in Texas:

Our excitement about the train ride east -- our first ever -- was tempered by the fact that we had to leave almost everything behind because we couldn't afford to ship it. The parsonage we were promised was furnished, and everything else we'd have to save for all over again. This meant leaving behind the few toys we had, including my roller skates and the beloved Schwinn bicycle I'd won by selling newspaper subscriptions. Only Edna got to bring her dolls -- she just cried so loud that my parents gave in. ... 

The excitement of the trip wore off quickly when we got to the house and saw just how shabby it was. It was a brown wood frame with linoleum throughout and flowered wallpaper that was yellowed and ugly. Some of our coloring books -- the ones we left behind -- had more intricate designs. ... Everything in the house was in various states of disrepair: the faucets, the toilets, the bunk beds. In some places on the floor, you could see clear through to the foundation. The furniture was borderline Goodwill -- in other words, a few sticks pasted together here and there. Welcome to the Promised Land, Pastor Wright. (All You Need, ch. 2)

Love goes on to mention other privations. There was a small congregation, but they could barely afford to to support Wright and his family financially; the new pastor had to take part-time work. The dry heat of Texas affected the whole family's allergies, but exacerbated little Edna's eczema in the worst way. They were even without hot water, until a visit from Bishop Lawson prompted parishioners to raise money for a water heater to be installed. Not long after his installation, Pastor Wright had a brief confrontation with one of the older women of the church. Eventually, they returned to California.

Was Lawson a bit of a salesman? Perhaps. Parsonage life was (and is) difficult. While Lawson speaks of escorting preachers to financially supportive churches, it is clear that these churches were in no sense thriving, numerically or financially. Surely, all of Bishop Lawson's appointments were not like these. Yearly, during the National Convention, Lawson appointed ministers to various pulpits, or moved standing ministers to new pulpits. Were these appointments different from the church plant assignments described here? Let's examine the experience of another successful minister that was appointed to a church that was past infancy.