During the Baltimore revival, something occurred which I believe marked a turning point not only in my own ministry but in the history of the outpouring of Pentecostal power. Yet at that time (so far as I know) NOT ONE OF THE DEAR PENTECOSTAL PEOPLE UNDERSTOOD THE VISION GOD HAD GIVEN ME, AND SEVERELY CRITICIZED WHAT THEY CALLED A “QUENCHING OF MANIFESTATIONS.”
I had announced that on the last Sunday afternoon of the campaign, I would preach on “The Baptism of the Holy Spirit.” Ministers, evangelists, and many of the city's outstanding people came to the service. Dr. Shreve of McKendree M. E, Church of Washington, D. C., had caught the train immediately after the conclusion of his morning sermon and had brought with him several of his officials.
Suddenly, while sitting tense in earnest prayer, burdened with the message God had laid upon my heart, I had a strange and overwhelming presentment that the old Serpent was going to rear his ugly head in this meeting and try to strike a blow, as the Lord was winning too mighty a victory and would sweep many hearts with His power unless Satan put a stop to it.
Nervously, I looked around over the platform, the wings, the boxes, the audience, but everything appeared normal. Where was the blow to be struck?
All at once, a woman rose to her feet in the audience. Instantly, the Lord spoke to my heart:
“There's the woman the devil has entered into, in order to try to frighten away the whales. This is the psychological moment for him to work! Day after day, you have been piling up a mighty structure of teaching and evidence regarding the Holy Ghost and the results of the Spirit-filled life. This is the turning point, and the opinions of the people, their acceptance or rejection, their confidence won or lost, hang by a thread and will fall heavily one way or the other.
If the devil can but make me a foolish, fanatical, outlandish thing under the pretense of the Spirit’s leadership and power, he can make the people think this is the result of the message which you have been preaching.
Keyed to the tension of the moment, these thoughts flashed through my mind like lightning. I prayed that people would not notice the woman. With face flushed, she flung out her arms. made for the aisle and started for the front, beating her arms about like a flail, knocking off several ladies’ hats on the way, crying, “Praise the Lord” in a strained, unnatural voice.
Grasping the arm of the brother who sat beside me, I whispered, "Go! go quickly, brother; get that woman back to her seat; this is not of the Lord!”
“Oh, Sister, I wouldn't dare!” he gasped, “that would be quenching the Spirit.”
“Brother, go quickly, quickly!” I urged. “Tell the Lord to blame me if you like, but go quickly!" I gave him a little push, and he was on his way. I started another chorus to cover the situation, and the brother finally maneuvered the woman back to her seat and returned to the platform.
Hardly had he sat down, when the woman was in the aisle again. Making her way to the boxes, she began shaking her fists in the people's faces, knocking off hats with her flailing arms and screaming, “Praise God!”
“Go, Sister, and take her out of the meeting,” I urged a lady sitting behind me in the choir.
“Oh! But that’s the Spirit of the Lord in her! Besides, she is bigger than I—how could I get her out?”
“That is the devil,” I whispered desperately. “Go, dear, and God will help you. I dare not leave the platform. Every eye would follow me, and the meeting would be ruined.”
Away she went and, somehow, finally got the woman out and into another room. There, the enemy showed his true colors and purpose. The woman proved to be a maniac who had previously been in an asylum. Her deluded mind seemed to cause her to believe herself a preacher. She paced the floor, crying disconnected sentences, raving and preaching to the chairs, and failing to recognize or be controlled by her own people! Yet, this was the kind of woman many of the saints would have allowed to promenade the platform and disgust the entire audience, fearing lest they quench the Spirit.
The strain had made me desperately ill at my stomach, but, though shaking from head to foot and in great weakness, I soon felt the soothing, anointing power of God flowing through my being, strengthening me with every word I uttered. The people laughed, shouted, and wept with the glory of the Lord upon their souls, and the day was won for God.
When the service was over, hundreds of Christians raised their hands signifying their desire to receive this baptism of power, and the ministers invited us back to Baltimore, just as soon as we could return from a hasty transcontinental trip to the “House That God Built” and to visit the children in Los Angeles.
To those who admitted they still did not comprehend my unusual stand regarding the baptism of the Holy Spirit, God revealed the vision a few weeks later when, upon our return trip to Baltimore, the power fell to such an extent that many prominent ministers and their congregations received the BAPTISM IN PENTECOSTAL fullness.
Then they came back and said, “We see it, Sister, thank God you had the vision and the courage to stand alone and be true to it.”
[The Story of My Life in Memoriam, 1951, "Chapter XVII: Salvaging Souls"]