I was raised Baptist and believed in my heart that all tongues were of the devil. I was brought up in the Marine Corp and it was not considered manly for men to touch one another. I was also cold and arrogant. I was also, having been brought up Baptist, of the Sardisean church age variety. My religion was in my head and whatever did not fit in the mental web was rejected. I am afraid that I was rude to my fellow Catholics. I knew one by the name of Bob in which he reached out with a hand of fellowship in which I heartedly refused. I have tried to look up Bob in the last decade to apologize but have never found his contact address.
My point of view changed with the likes of the early 1900's type Pentecostalism in which I spent the summer after high school with my grandmother and had a rather eventful run in with the Pentecostal Holiness church, as this area of Virginia was in a time capsule, I got an experience of early 1900's Pentecostal anointing.
I fell in with the Pentecostal Holiness church not because of the tongues, but because of the people, which were the finest I have ever met in my entire life. Pictured below is Dallas Linkous JR, which is probably the 'shoutingest' man I have ever met in my entire life. As a teenager I would put up hay with him and go with him to the revivals at night. Both him and his wife were tongue talking, shouting, happy type Pentecostals. The joy was there equally there at home as well as at work. Every one of the fruits of the spirit lamped within their lives like a great over heated pot belly stove. There was also a decency among the people like I have never seen. In the revivals the old folks would sit back weeping and if any caught contact with my amazed look they would declare, "The Holy Ghost! The Holy Ghost!" Pointing to all the souls laid out at the altar. My grandfather was good friends with Dallas. In the 1950's they would have revivals that would go for weeks and early in the AM. Granny said that grandfather could worship the Lord until 2 AM and not have any trouble at all rising at 6 AM for work.
I remember well as a young man Dallas coming behind me to pray with me at the alter, with tears running down his cheek and onto my neck. As a guy who did not like to be touched this was quite profound. At the end of that summer we had a good revival in which the Lord seemed there in a mighty way. On reading the book, "Run Baby Run," by Nikki Cruise, I felt a voice telling me to put the book down. I paused, and then continued again to read. The voice said again "Put the book down." I slept in my Grandmothers living room on an old fold away cot by the open living room door. The Katydids seemed to be singing very loud that night. There in my Grandmothers clean linens I heard the Spirit speak again, "Where is all the stress, worry and hatred?" In which, upon examining my heart, there was nothing there but pure beauty. I thought to myself, "Oh my! I got exactly what those people got!" I would spend the rest of the summer rejoicing with the people and in revival until I went back to Michigan later that September.