This article traces the history of significant spiritual movements, beginning in Scripture and moving through modern revivals, with a focus on the Charismatic Movement and its impact on Kansas City.
It also addresses what I call the “Mike Bickle problem” and offers practical thoughts on how to help anyone seeking solutions for IHOPKC or any other church or ministry in turmoil. These are my reflections, drawn from both history and personal experience. I invite you to weigh them, test them, and share your own.
When leaders fall, when ministries are exposed, when movements unravel, it is not always the enemy winning. Sometimes, it is God Himself bringing judgment because He loves His Church too much to let her continue in deception and sin.
“For it is time for judgment to begin with the household of God; and if it begins with us first, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God?” 1 Peter 4:17
Judgment beginning in the house of God is not about God “picking on” His people. It is about purifying us before the eyes of a watching world. The Father disciplines those He loves (Hebrews 12:6), and His discipline is always aimed at restoration, not destruction. He will not allow His name to be dragged through scandal, compromise, and controversy indefinitely by movements that claim to represent Him but have drifted from His ways. When exposure comes, it is both a warning and an invitation, a call to return to the fear of the Lord and to the purity of devotion to Christ.
The crisis at IHOPKC, the scandal surrounding Mike Bickle, and similar situations in other ministries are painful, but they are also prophetic. They are not merely a matter of bad press; they are part of a larger shaking. The Lord is exposing what is false, correcting what is corrupt, and calling His people back to the only foundation that can never be shaken: Christ Himself.
If judgment begins with us, and it has, then now is the time for every believer, every leader, every ministry to repent and return to the fear of the Lord. Hebrews 6:1 teaches us that repentance is more than turning from known sin, it is also repentance from dead works. Dead works are not only sinful actions, they can also be good things done in our own strength, apart from the life and leading of the Spirit. They are the works of religious performance, self‑effort, and human striving that do not flow from a living relationship with God.
This is a sobering reminder for every revival movement. We can keep the language of revival, the structures of revival, and the programs of revival, and yet operate entirely in dead works if the Spirit is no longer the source. True repentance is not merely “stop sinning,” but also “stop relying on anything other than the Father Himself.” It is a turning from both open rebellion and subtle self‑dependence, so that our trust rests fully on Him alone. Without this kind of repentance, even a movement born in the Spirit can slowly be maintained in the flesh.
Every genuine move of God must return again and again to the cry: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
When leaders fail, movements fracture. Many followers feel betrayed; others cling to blind loyalty to the leader. The questions come quickly: What went wrong? Can it be fixed? Should it be saved at all? What do I do now?
By now we should recognize that the crisis surrounding Mike Bickle and IHOPKC is not unique. It has been happening with disturbing frequency in recent years. To many of us, it is clear: judgment has begun in the house of God. He is cleaning His house in preparation for His next move.
But this is not new. It is part of a repeating pattern we have seen throughout church history, in revivals, in denominations, and in ministries that once burned bright with God’s presence. This is not just about Kansas City. It is about every work of God that forgets who the real Head of the Church is.
And yet there is hope, for those willing to return to the only foundation that can never be shaken. The answer is not nostalgia for the past, nor blind loyalty to leaders. It is to return to the first cry of every true move of God:
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
The rest of this article is both a warning and a roadmap, a way to recognize the signs of drift, to resist the lure of personality‑driven ministry, and to rebuild on Christ alone.
The Fragile Life of a Move of God
Every genuine move of God is a miracle of grace. No human committee can plan it. No ministry strategy can guarantee it. It is, in the truest sense, a sovereign work of God breaking into the affairs of men. And yet, for all their supernatural beginnings, history shows us that these moves are fragile things. They blaze like wildfire for a season, sometimes a few years, sometimes a generation, and then fade, often within one or two generations.
The Generational Drift of a Move of God
Moves of God are rarely static. In Scripture and throughout history, the pattern is consistent: God moves in power in a generation; the next inherits the blessing but risks losing the fire; by the third, the flame fades into formality, or delusion. This is not theory; it is a recurring reality seen in every major revival since the birth of the Church.
It is not that God’s power diminishes. Rather, something shifts in the people as each new generation interprets the movement for themselves. The first generation burns with firsthand encounters of the works of the Spirit. The second has fewer encounters but remembers the stories, cherishes the structures, and holds onto the language of revival, though not always the fire. By the third, the movement is often reduced to the work of men, or worse, the work of a man. At that point, it is in decline, drifting toward extinction. Worse still, many retreat into the past, longing for a return to what once stirred them, clinging to memories that made them feel good about themselves, while quietly living lives of spiritual desperation.
When the true power of God is gone, it must be manufactured to maintain the illusion of life. What was once the work of the Holy Spirit becomes performance, hype, and marketing. Where there were once genuine apostles, prophets, and teachers, tested, proven, and appointed by God, now there are pretenders, posers, and self‑appointed leaders trying to wear the mantle without bearing the cross.
One of the greatest deceptions, especially for those who enter a movement in its later generations, is the belief that its origin and vitality are tied to a man, a charismatic figurehead. This is the great lie. It takes root when the true history of the movement’s beginnings is fabricated, romanticized, or stripped of its actual story.
When this happens, the voice of the first generation that once thundered, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” is replaced by the hollow echo of a personality cult. And when that man falls, or dies, the movement is left scrambling for direction and answers. Worst of all, we are left with the walking wounded, some desperately praying for the restoration of the fallen leader or the revival of the movement, others reeling in disillusionment, wondering how they could have been so deceived.
Before I get into what all this means for today, especially movements like IHOPKC, and specifically the work in Kansas City, I want to lay some historical groundwork.
The Biblical Pattern
God chose Moses and set His people free. They crossed the Red Sea and then, due to sin, wandered 40 years in the wilderness. Then Joshua’s generation saw the Jordan part, the walls of Jericho fall, and their entrance into the Promised Land fulfilled. Yet within a few decades, another generation arose “who did not know the LORD or the work He had done for Israel” (Judges 2:10), and ended up with “everyone did what was right in his own eyes.” Judges 21:25
David’s generation worshiped in God’s presence and heard His covenant promises, but Solomon’s reign, though glorious in wealth and wisdom, drifted into divided loyalties, eventually leading to the destruction of “Solomon’s” Temple. The post‑exilic generation rebuilt the Temple in Jerusalem, only for their children to sink into lifeless ritualism by the days of Malachi.
The principle is stark: without ongoing personal encounter and renewal, even the most vibrant move of God will decline in one or two generations.
When the Flame Passes On: The First and Second Generations of the Early Church
The First Apostolic Generation
The first-century church began with an unrepeatable convergence of events: the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus; the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost; and the missionary expansion led by the Apostles. But by 70 AD, the church’s landscape was changing dramatically. Jerusalem fell to Rome, the Temple was destroyed, and all but John, and perhaps Phillip and Thomas were gone.
What is clear at this point is that the church was entering the age of the second generation, the first transition.
The Second Generation: Guardians of the Flame
The transition from the first to second generation was not simply a handover of leadership titles. It was a battle to preserve the gospel in the midst of persecution, heresy, and the loss of most of the direct eyewitnesses to Jesus.
The Challenge of Inheritance
The second generation faced a twofold challenge:
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- They had to guard the deposit of truth handed down by the apostles (2 Tim 1:14).
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- They had to kindle fresh fire in believers who had not seen Jesus or witnessed Pentecost firsthand.
Their world was different from that of the first generation. The persecution that had scattered the apostles was now a constant reality under Roman rule. The destruction of Jerusalem severed the church from its Jewish homeland. Heresies arose that distorted the gospel. And without the physical presence of the early apostles, the temptation was strong to rely on institutional order rather than an ongoing encounter with God.
The Third Generation: The Rise of a False Church Government and the Separation of Jewish and Gentile Believers
By the close of the first century, the last original apostle, John, was gone. The first generation had been eyewitnesses to Jesus’ ministry and resurrection. The second generation, Timothy, Titus, Luke, and John Mark, and others, had walked closely with the apostles and carried their teaching forward. But as the third generation emerged, the danger signs were unmistakable.
Without the living authority of the apostles, the church was vulnerable to new power structures and cultural divisions that would alter its course for centuries.
From Servant Leadership to Hierarchical Control
The government of the early church was simple, Spirit‑led, and local. Each congregation was shepherded by a team of elders (Acts 14:23; Titus 1:5), accountable to Christ as the Head and guided by the Spirit through apostles and prophets (Ephesians 4:11–13). Leadership was relational, not positional, rooted in service, not domination (1 Peter 5:1–3).
But by the third generation, subtle, yet dangerous, changes began to take shape. Single‑bishop rule over elders began replacing plural eldership. Leaders began to claim apostolic authority without apostolic commission. Hierarchy emerged under the banner of “protecting” the church from heresy, but often became an end in itself.
The result? If error took hold at the top, it spread unchecked throughout the entire church, unlike in the first apostolic era, when each city had its own elders and traveling apostolic teams brought targeted correction, preventing errors from infecting the whole body. And let’s not forget Paul’s letters to the Churches that we still read today.
By the early second century, prominent figures such as Ignatius of Antioch were advocating for strong, monarchical bishops. While this partly arose from a sincere desire to guard against false teaching, it also laid the groundwork for a centralized, top‑down church government that the apostles themselves had never modeled.
And it is striking, and sobering, that this is exactly what we see today. Many movements that began with Spirit‑led, relational servant leadership eventually drift into hierarchical control, where a single leader or small circle becomes the unquestioned authority, and where the voice of Christ is replaced by the voice of the man at the top.
The Separation of Jewish and Gentile Believers
At the same time, the church was drifting from its Jewish roots. The first generation had been almost entirely Jewish, or God-fearers; the second was a mix of Jewish and Gentile believers united in Messiah. But as decades passed the rising anti‑Jewish sentiment in the Roman world created social pressure to distance Christianity from Judaism. Gentile leadership began to redefine the faith apart from the Torah‑rooted worldview of the apostles.
By the early 100s, Jewish followers of Jesus were being excluded from some Gentile congregations. Church leaders were rewriting the narrative of the faith as something distinct, even opposed, to its Jewish foundation. And a wedge was driven between the “church” and the “synagogue,” despite the apostles’ vision of one new man in Messiah (Ephesians 2:15).
The Seeds of a False Church Order
The combination of centralized hierarchical authority and the separation of Jewish and Gentile believers created a perfect storm. The living, relational leadership of the Spirit was replaced with rigid office‑holding. The unity of Jew and Gentile in Messiah was fractured. The church became more culturally Roman than biblically Hebraic.
These seeds eventually grew into the institutional church systems that, by the time of Constantine in the fourth century, bore little resemblance to the New Testament pattern. Tragically, this structure still dominates today, even in many so‑called non‑denominational churches.
There is no scriptural basis for the pastor‑led, pastor‑driven form of church government so common in the modern era. It springs from a misunderstanding of the role of the pastor (shepherd) in Ephesians 4:11 and ignores the New Testament model of shepherding by a plurality of elders in each local congregation.
Such institutional structures make it dangerously easy for deception to enter and spread within any congregation. When authority is concentrated in a single office‑holder rather than shared among tested, Spirit‑led elders, the church becomes vulnerable, repeating the very errors that began in the third generation after the apostles.
Why This Matters for Revival History
Every move of God eventually faces this third‑generation crisis: Loss of apostolic/elder leadership with sound doctrine, replaced with positional hierarchy. Loss of original unity and identity, replaced with cultural conformity. Loss of the kingdom cry, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand,” replaced with human authority and new traditions.
When these shifts happen, the fire of the first generation is smothered. The church moves from being a Spirit‑led people to being either a managed institution or a feelings led congregation or ministry.
By the third generation, the risk of failure is real: without a continual return to the cry of repentance, the kingdom reality will always be replaced with religious routine and the plans of man.
The prophetic cry “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” is not just the starting point for a movement of God, it’s the sustaining rhythm. When this cry fades, the fire cools.
The Lesson for Every Generation
The first-century transition from apostolic to post-apostolic leadership shows us that no generation can live on the borrowed faith of the one before. Every move of God must be renewed or it will be reduced from fire to memory, from power to form.
We honor the Timothys, Tituses, Marks, and Lukes of every age, those who, though not part of the original outpouring, guard the flame and pass it on. But history warns us: unless each generation encounters God for itself, the vitality of the movement will fade within a lifetime or two.
The story of the early church is not merely ancient history. It is a mirror for every revival, every renewal, every church planting movement today. The question is not whether God will move, He will. The question is: when He does, will the fire still be burning, and if the Lord tarries, in our children’s day, or will it have cooled to embers?
The First and Second Great Awakenings
The First Great Awakening (1730s–1740s)
By the early 1700s, colonial Christianity had grown formal and lifeless. Into this dryness came preachers like Jonathan Edwards, George Whitefield, and John Wesley with the biblical cry: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
Jonathan Edwards’ sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” preached July 8, 1741, in Enfield, Connecticut, remains one of the most famous, and most misunderstood, messages of the First Great Awakening and of America’s revival history. It offers a vivid glimpse into how the Lord works, whether in that generation or today.
The power of the message did not come from Edwards’ oratory style. He read it in a measured tone, rarely looking up from his manuscript. The true power came from the palpable presence of the Holy Spirit in the room. Edwards preached into a moment when hearts were already being awakened by the Spirit, or reawakened, as many of us have experienced, and the sermon became a spark that ignited deep conviction.
With unflinching honesty about the human condition, Edwards stripped away every false refuge people trusted in, church membership, outward morality, religious heritage, making it clear that none of these could save apart from a genuine conversion and living relationship with Christ. His words laid bare the heart’s deepest problem: humanity’s utter dependence on God’s mercy every moment.
The effects were immediate and profound. Eyewitnesses reported people trembling under the weight of conviction, some crying out mid‑sermon, “What must I do to be saved?” Others wept openly, clinging to the pews as if dangling over the pit of judgment that Edwards described so vividly. The Spirit’s presence seemed to bypass the intellect and strike directly at the soul.
It was no fleeting emotional stir. In the days that followed, many experienced lasting conversions. Lives were changed, homes transformed, and entire communities felt the ripple effects. For those touched, it was not simply an intense religious moment, it was a deep and enduring work of the Spirit, the kind of transformation that would define the First Great Awakening for years to come.
All of this was accomplished by the power of the Holy Spirit, no great music, no polished oratory, no elaborate human setup. Such things are not inherently wrong, but they are not necessary, and sometimes they can even get in the way. Many of us have known this kind of Spirit‑driven encounter before, and we long for it again. It will come.
The first generation of this awakening burned with radical encounter. Tens of thousands turned to Christ. Communities were transformed. The second generation preserved the fruit through theological training and institutions like Princeton. The third generation shifted focus toward political independence. The fire dimmed; the cry of repentance was replaced by national ambition.
The Second Great Awakening (1790s–1840s)
Post‑Revolution America was spiritually dark. Church attendance was low, moral decline widespread. Small groups began praying earnestly for God to move, and again the cry rang out: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
The first generation saw sweeping revival. Camp meetings shook the frontier. Whole towns turned to God. Reform movements sprang up. The second generation institutionalized the revival’s methods and moral causes. By the third generation, political and cultural battles over slavery and the Civil War eclipsed the revival spirit. Repentance faded from the nation’s heart.
20th‑Century Revivals & later the Charismatic Movement
The same generational pattern seen throughout Scripture and church history emerged again in the modern era.
First Generation: The Pentecostal Outpourings (1900–1920)
The modern Pentecostal revival began quietly, not in Los Angeles, but in Topeka, Kansas. The Topeka Revival (1901) began in a humble Bible school where in 1900, Charles Parham, a Holiness preacher, opened Bethel Bible College with a simple mandate: study the Scriptures and discover the biblical evidence of the baptism in the Holy Spirit.
Parham’s students searched the New Testament and concluded that the consistent sign accompanying Spirit baptism was speaking in other tongues. On New Year’s Day, January 1, 1901, during a prayer meeting, a young student named Agnes Ozman asked Parham to lay hands on her so she might receive the Holy Spirit. As he prayed, she began to speak fluently in what witnesses believed were Chinese and other languages.
In the days that followed, many other students reported similar experiences. The small school was filled with fervent prayer, worship, and testimonies of spiritual empowerment. Parham believed they were experiencing the same outpouring described in Acts 2, and he began to preach this message wherever he went.
Though small in scale, the Topeka outpouring became a seed event. Its emphasis on Spirit baptism with the initial evidence of tongues set the theological framework for what would explode just five years later at Azusa Street in Los Angeles. Parham and his students understood this as the initial evidence of the baptism in the Holy Spirit, setting a theological foundation for the Pentecostal movement.
In the years that followed, reports of similar outpourings appeared in various places. One key center was Asbury College in Wilmore, Kentucky, where in 1905 a revival broke out marked by deep repentance, public confession of sin, and powerful prayer. These awakenings helped prepare the soil for what would come next.
The Welsh Revival (1904–1905) also played a major role. Led by Evan Roberts, it swept across Wales with deep conviction of sin, fervent intercession, and widespread repentance. Though separated geographically, the revival spirit in Wales inspired believers worldwide and stirred expectation for a fresh move of God.
All of this converged in Los Angeles in 1906. At a small mission on Azusa Street, led by African American holiness preacher William J. Seymour, the Spirit fell with unmistakable power. Tongues, prophecy, healings, and interracial worship broke every social convention of the day. What began as a prayer meeting grew into a global movement, with missionaries and evangelists carrying the Pentecostal message to every continent.
These were not man‑made programs. They were raw, Spirit‑driven encounters. People cried out for God’s kingdom to break in. Testimonies of miraculous healings, interracial unity in worship, and passionate evangelism marked the movement. The driving forces were prayer, repentance, hunger, and a burning sense of God’s nearness.
Second Generation: Institutionalization & the Healing Revivals (1920s–1950s)
As the Pentecostal fire spread, it began to be preserved through denominational structures, the Assemblies of God, Church of God, Foursquare, and others. While this institutionalization helped safeguard doctrine and coordinate missions, it also began to formalize what had been spontaneous.
By the mid‑20th century, fresh movements arose within Pentecostal and independent circles, including faith healing revivals led by Oral Roberts, A.A. Allen, and others. The Latter Rain Movement (1948) sought to restore prophetic ministry, laying on of hands, and dynamic worship, but was marred by extremes and lack of accountability.
These second‑generation movements carried spiritual vitality but often lacked the deep repentance and corporate humility that marked the first generation. As structures solidified, the focus shifted subtly toward personalities, platforms, and events.
The Charismatic Movement — First Generation of A Second‑Half‑Century Reboot (1960s–1970s)
While Pentecostalism in the first half of the 20th century had already circled the globe, it largely remained within Pentecostal denominations. By the 1950s and early 1960s, most mainline Protestant and Catholic congregations still viewed Pentecostalism as an outsider expression, too emotional, too unorthodox, too disruptive.
Then came an unexpected breakthrough. In 1960, Dennis Bennett, rector of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Van Nuys, California, publicly testified that he had experienced the baptism in the Holy Spirit and spoke in tongues. His announcement sparked a wave of similar testimonies in Anglican, Lutheran, Methodist, Baptist, and Catholic circles.
What had been largely confined to Pentecostal churches now began appearing in mainline denominations, not as a denominational split, but as a renewal from within. These believers came to be called Charismatics, from the Greek charismata, “spiritual gifts.”
In the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, beginning in 1967 at Duquesne University, students and priests testified of profound encounters with the Holy Spirit. Across denominational lines, people were experiencing the same manifestations described in Acts: speaking in tongues, prophetic utterances, healings, and a fresh passion for worship and prayer.
Unlike early Pentecostalism, the Charismatic Movement was not primarily a separatist movement. Instead of leaving their denominations, many Charismatics sought to stay and renew them from within. Home prayer groups sprang up. Worship became more expressive. Evangelism flourished in personal, relational forms.
In many ways, the Charismatic Movement functioned as a reboot of the first‑generation Pentecostal fire, now breaking into established, traditional church structures that had never embraced such manifestations. It carried much of the early passion of Azusa Street but came with its own unique culture: A stronger emphasis on interdenominational fellowship. Worship that incorporated both contemporary music and traditional liturgy. Less formal separation from traditional church structures.
The movement reached a remarkable high point in July 1977, when for five days approximately 50,000 Charismatic believers converged on Kansas City, Missouri. During the day, believers gathered in churches, meeting halls, and conference centers across the city for teaching, worship, and fellowship. At night, the crowds poured into Arrowhead Stadium, filling it with praise.
From the very first evening, the atmosphere was electric. Believers from every imaginable background, Catholics, Episcopalians, Lutherans, Methodists, Baptists, Pentecostals, and non‑denominationals, lifted their voices together in worship. The sound of 50,000 people singing in the Spirit rolled across the stadium like waves. Flags and banners waved in the night air. It was a tangible picture of Psalm 133: “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.”
There was a deep sense of expectancy. Speakers and worship leaders from across the nation and around the world shared the platform. The Holy Spirit’s presence was not confined to the stage, ministry happened in the stands, in the concourses, in conversations between strangers who discovered in minutes that they were family in Christ.
The conference was organized primarily by the Catholic Charismatic Renewal, but a small team from Agape Fellowship, including myself, worked with them behind the scenes to help coordinate and serve. For us, it was not just a major event; it was a prophetic sign. We sensed that the Lord was weaving together streams that had once flowed separately, the historic churches, the Pentecostal fire, the Charismatic renewal, into something greater than the sum of its parts.
For many who were there, the 1977 Kansas City conference remains one of the clearest pictures of what Jesus prayed for in John 17 — the visible unity of His people, filled with His Spirit, bearing witness together to the kingdom of God.
Right after the conference, Agape Fellowship held a debriefing meeting led by Derek Prince. It was during this gathering that Bob Jones gave his first prophetic word in that kind of Agape setting. His message to us was sobering: Kansas City was coming to the end of its “seven fat years” and would soon enter a season of “lean years.”
In just a few years Agape Fellowship would end and Mike Bickle first church in Kansas City would begin.
Limitations and Early Drift
Like every move of God, the Charismatic Movement faced the challenge of sustaining spiritual vitality. In its early years, it was fueled by hunger, prayer, and repentance. But as it matured into the mid 1970s, conferences, networks, and media ministries began to define it. In some cases, the fire was slowly replaced by form.
Still, its impact was profound. By the 1970s, the Charismatic Movement had touched nearly every Christian tradition in America and much of the world. And in places like Kansas City, it intersected with two other revival streams, the Jesus People Movement and the Messianic Jewish Movement, to form something unique.
This convergence would give birth to Agape Fellowship, a short‑lived (approximately 10 year) but potent example of three streams flowing together in a single expression of revival, based on the church in the Book of Acts.
On a Personal Note
My family’s journey in the Charismatic Movement began in the Episcopal Church in 1962. A decade later, in 1972, I left the Episcopal Church to join friends at Agape Fellowship in Kansas City. It was there that I met Derek Prince and came under his teaching. I had the privilege of traveling with some of his ministry teams throughout the 1970s, both in the U.S. and overseas in Europe and Israel, experiences that shaped my understanding of revival, spiritual authority, and the global body of Christ.
The Jesus People Movement (Late 1960s–1970s)
While the Charismatic Movement was spreading through Catholic and mainline Protestant churches in the 1960s, another revival wave was breaking on America’s counterculture, the Jesus People Movement.
Born in California, in the midst of the hippie generation, anti‑war protests, the sexual revolution, and the drug culture, thousands of young people encountered Jesus in radical, life‑altering ways. These were not church kids getting religion, they were runaways, drug addicts, and idealists searching for meaning who suddenly found the truth they had been chasing in the gospel of Jesus Christ.
It was raw, unpolished, and deeply relational. Street preaching, baptisms in the ocean, guitars and simple choruses replaced traditional church music. Homes and coffeehouses became worship spaces. The Jesus People carried an infectious boldness to share their faith anywhere, anytime.
And yet, as with every move of God, there was no single organization or leader. It was a grassroots awakening that swept the nation. While the Charismatic Movement was revitalizing the established church from the inside, the Jesus People were reaching those far outside its walls.
The Messianic Jewish Movement
Alongside these revival waves, the Messianic Jewish movement emerged as a significant stream in the latter part of the 20th century. In many ways, its modern growth can be traced to the Israeli Six‑Day War of June 1967, which stirred fresh prophetic awareness among believers worldwide and reignited interest in the Jewish roots of the Christian faith.
The movement began as individual Jewish believers joined existing Christian churches, with some believing they had converted to Christianity. As the movement grew it moved towards small fellowships and ministries with the compelling goal to restore the Jewish identity of the gospel and reconnect the Church to its Hebraic foundations.
Across the United States, Israel, and other nations, these communities became a vibrant witness of Jewish believers in Yeshua. They rekindled appreciation for the biblical feasts, deepened understanding of the Scriptures in their original context, and embodied Paul’s vision of the olive tree, Gentiles grafted in alongside the natural branches (Romans 11:17–24).
Yet, like other moves of God, the Messianic movement faced the same generational shift. By the 1990s, as the second generation took the lead, it became more institutionalized. The fresh fire of the early years was channeled into structures meant to preserve it, but those structures sometimes overshadowed the Spirit’s spontaneity.
With institutionalization came challenges familiar to other maturing movements. In some places, cultural restoration overshadowed the gospel itself. A few groups blurred the line between salvation by grace and Torah‑keeping as a requirement for righteousness. Others drifted into elitism, drawing sharp lines between Jewish and Gentile believers, undermining the “one new man” reality of Ephesians 2:15 that had once been central to the movement’s vision.
The Messianic Jewish movement began with a vital contribution to the body of Christ: calling the Church back to her Jewish roots and proclaiming Yeshua to the Jewish people. But like every revival stream, without continual repentance, humility, and Spirit‑led correction, it too faces the dangers of a third‑generation drift.
The Convergence in Kansas City: Agape Fellowship
Kansas City became one of the rare places where three powerful revival streams met, and merged. In the early 1970s, Agape Fellowship emerged as a hub where these movements converged:
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- The Charismatic Movement, bringing the gifts of the Spirit, expressive worship, and renewal to believers from traditional denominations.
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- The Jesus People Movement, bringing youthful zeal, evangelistic boldness, and countercultural authenticity.
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- The Messianic Jewish Movement, restoring the Jewish roots of the gospel and welcoming Jewish believers into the fullness of their identity in Messiah.
At Agape, these streams didn’t merely coexist, they flowed together. Derek Prince was our spiritual father and apostolic covering. Charismatic believers found fresh fire in the evangelistic passion of the Jesus People. Former hippies discovered grounding in Spirit‑filled teaching and worship. Messianic believers brought a deep connection to Scripture’s Hebrew foundations and to the “one new man” vision of Ephesians 2:15.
For a time, Agape was a vibrant expression of unity, three distinct renewal movements blending into one community, centered on Jesus and the work of the Spirit. It was a living example of what many in the body of Christ still long for: revival that is both Spirit‑empowered and rooted in the whole counsel of God.
Yet, as with so many moves of God, sustaining this convergence required more than passion. As it transitioned into the second generation, parallel to the decline already happening in the wider Charismatic Movement, Agape began to lose its foundation of ongoing repentance, clear biblical alignment, and tested apostolic order. By 1978, the fire had dimmed. The fellowship was disbanded shortly before Mike Bickle returned to Kansas City and began building on the foundation that Agape and Derek Prince had laid.
This makes the Kansas City story the bridge between the national revival waves of the 1960s and 1970s and the later prophetic‑apostolic developments that would shape the city’s spiritual history for decades to come.
The Second and Third Generations: The Prophetic and (false) Apostolic Wave (1980s–1990s-and beyond)
The Kansas City Prophets and the emerging New Apostolic Reformation brought renewed language about intimacy with God, prophetic ministry, and kingdom vision. There was a fresh emphasis on hearing God’s voice, intercessory prayer, and the restoration of apostles and prophets to the Church.
But while the message stirred hope, the movement as a whole lacked the true apostolic structure, sound doctrine (also known as the apostle’s teaching in Acts 2:42), and biblical accountability that the early church modeled. In most cases, the titles “apostle” and “prophet” were claimed without the rigorous testing, commissioning, and proven fruit that Scripture demands.
Much of the movement became, and still is, personality‑driven, sustained by platform‑centered branding and, in some cases, doctrinal excess. The prophetic often operated without the guardrails of solid biblical teaching or the willingness of mature leaders to judge prophetic words in light of Scripture. Apostolic language was freely used, but rarely matched by true apostolic function.
Perhaps most telling, the movement largely lacked the hallmark of every genuine revival in Scripture: ongoing repentance, accompanied by real signs and wonders that testify to God’s kingdom breaking in. Without repentance, the prophetic voice inevitably drifts toward performance, and the apostolic call degenerates into yet another leadership model.
Key Takeaway
Every move of God begins in hunger and ends when hunger is gone. If we want revival to last longer than a single generation, we must return, again and again, to the place where it began: on our faces before God, crying out for Him to move in our day. All these movements began with a spark of God’s intention, a restoration of something vital to the body of Christ. But without the guardrails of tested leadership, sound doctrine, and repentance as a lifestyle, they were vulnerable to the same generational drift that has marked every revival from the first century to today.
But not to worry, we need not lose heart, the Father will see that we get it right. He will accomplish His purposes in us, both individually and corporately. For those who seek Him, even our mistakes are not wasted. The Word assures us:
“Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Matthew 6:33
If we will turn our hearts fully to Him, He will redeem our missteps, restore what has been lost, and bring us back into alignment with His will. His purposes will stand, and His kingdom will advance.
When Judgment Begins at the House of God: Repent
Now to Mike Bickle, and to others such as Michael Brown, Joni Lamb and Doug Weiss of Daystar, and Todd Bentley, along with the many like them, and all who have championed their premature return to ministry, the message of this article is simple and unchanging: Repent.
Repentance is not public relations. It is not a carefully worded statement. It is not merely stepping away for a season and then returning to the platform. True repentance is turning fully to the Father in absolute submission, confessing your sins to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and personally to each and every person you have hurt or abused. Then, making restitution wherever possible.
This goes far beyond laying down pride or surrendering the need to defend one’s image. It is about allowing both the Father and the Church, the true, Spirit‑led body of believers, to determine if you should ever be entrusted with public ministry again.
Without this, there is no real restoration, not for the leader, and not for the movement that enabled them. The cry of heaven remains the same:
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
Blessings and thanks for reading
Rick Fox