Pastor JackChikamu

That Saturday, some twenty miles west of Pasadena in the San Fernando Valley just north of Hollywood, Jack W. Hayford Jr. was preparing to preach. The then thirty-six-year-old pastor of a small Pentecostal congregation in a Los Angeles suburb spent much of the day readying his sermons for the next day’s morning and evening services at the Church on the Way, the First Foursquare Church of Van Nuys. When he finished his preparation at about 4:30 p.m., he stepped out of his office and, anticipating a chilly night, walked over to set the thermostat to seventy-two degrees. As he turned to lock up and go home, he was “bewildered” by what he saw in the little sanctuary he had just walked through. 

The room was filled with a silvery mist. The late afternoon sun slanted through the stained-glass windows, adding to the beauty of the sight before me; but there was no natural explanation for what I was seeing. The mist had not been there a moment before. My mind probed for an answer: “This isn’t dust … smog … is it?”

Even as he thought this, Hayford knew better, since it was an absolutely clear day with no smog at all. Besides, the mist he was seeing had a “glowing quality,” even where no sunlight was shining into the room. Hayford sensed this was some kind of manifestation of God’s glory, but he was hesitant to say so. Feeling the need to test it out, he stepped into a nearby prayer room and found no mist. Before reentering the sanctuary, Hayford rubbed his eyes and stepped back in, only to find that the mist was still there. 

I felt a particular sense of wonder—why this display? Strangely enough, I was also concerned about who could confirm that I wasn’t just seeing things. Then the Lord spoke: It is what you think it is. The words struck me as moving and humorous at the same moment. The almighty God of the universe saw me worrying about a confirming witness and condescended to be that witness Himself. It was as though God were saying, “I see it too, Jack.” That was the humorous part. What moved me deeply were the words that followed: “I have given My glory to dwell in this place.” I stood watching silently; and moments later the scene returned to the ordinariness of mere sunlight in the room….

It would be months before Hayford would share the story with his leadership team and, concerned it might be misunderstood and bring ridicule, over a year before telling the whole congregation. Yet from that Sunday forward, the little church would experience continuous growth for the next twenty years. Hayford would always believe that there was no real explanation for the church’s growth except that God’s “glory gift was the key to this release.”