A One-Eyed Preacher and the Spirit That Knew No Boundaries

On April 9, 1906, at a small prayer meeting on Bonnie Brae Street in Los Angeles, something broke open that no one could contain. William J. Seymour — the son of former slaves, blind in one eye, barred from sitting in the same classroom as his white teacher — stood before a handful of seekers and preached about the promised outpouring of the Holy Spirit. That night, people began speaking in tongues, weeping, and falling to their knees in prayer.

Within days, the gatherings moved to a rundown building at 312 Azusa Street, a former stable that still smelled of hay and horse sweat. What happened there defied every social boundary of early twentieth-century America. Black and white worshipers knelt side by side. Women preached alongside men. Domestic workers and day laborers prophesied next to doctors and shopkeepers. A twelve-year-old girl delivered messages that silenced rooms full of adults.

Newspapers mocked it. Religious leaders denounced it. But for three years, the services ran almost continuously — morning, noon, and night — sending missionaries to over twenty-five nations.

Seymour understood what the prophet Joel had promised centuries earlier: that when the Almighty pours out His Spirit, He does not check credentials, skin color, or social standing. Sons and daughters prophesy. The old dream dreams. The young see visions. Even on servants — especially on servants — the Spirit falls without reservation.