The Azusa Street Revival (1906–09) played a foundational role in the early Pentecostal movement, drawing thousands from around the world who left empowered for ministry.

Observers chronicled the events in publications like The Apostolic Faith newspaper and the book How Pentecost Came to Los Angeles by Frank Bartleman.

However, some stories about Azusa did not begin circulating until much later, many of them coming from Tommy Welchel (1943–2022).

As a homeless teen, Welchel sought shelter at the Los Angeles Pisgah House during 1960. He later claimed to have met a number of Azusa Street Revival participants there.

According to Welchel, God had forbidden these individuals from sharing their testimonies until a chosen person came to chronicle them — and they identified Welchel as God’s man.

The stories would have been more than 50 years old by the time Welchel arrived at the Los Angeles mission home. Another 46 years passed before Welchel released his 2006 book, during the 100th anniversary of the revival’s beginning.

They Told Me Their Stories purported to unearth never-before-read testimonies of miraculous events from Azusa. Welchel followed with two more books, recycling many of the same stories.

Welchel told of healings from paralysis and blindness. He described tumors falling to the floor, missing limbs regenerating, and prayers that raised the dead.

The books also include reports of supernatural manifestations, such as visible “glory clouds” and pillars of fire over the Azusa mission.

Subsequent editions also included contemporary accounts of miracles Welchel claimed people experienced while reading his books.

Numerous prominent figures have endorsed Welchel’s works, including Bill Johnson, Billye Brim, Gloria Copeland, Lou Engle, Sid Roth, and Randy Clark.

Welchel’s storytelling style was compelling. Yet no one has ever corroborated his claims.

Historical sources from the early 1900s, including The Apostolic Faith, do record miracles at Azusa, but they are not as extraordinary as those in Welchel’s books.

Given the passage of time, verifying Welchel’s claims is challenging. Still, historians can analyze identifiable figures in his accounts to assess their credibility.

Some of Welchel’s sources are mentioned in The Apostolic Faith as active participants in the revival, but many of the details Welchel shared are missing.

For example, while Tom Anderson might have witnessed or performed miracles, there is no contemporary documentation of the specific healings Welchel attributed to him, such as curing clubfoot or causing facial growths to peel away during prayer.

Julia Carney publicly shared her experience of hearing about the Azusa revival from a friend, attending, and receiving the baptism in the Spirit. However, her account does not support the pivotal role Welchel assigned to her, which included financing and launching the revival.

Meanwhile, some stories in Welchel’s books are demonstrably false. He told of two men, Sines and Christopher, touring Europe after the revival and performing for Queen Victoria, who supposedly sang along and honored them. Yet Victoria died in 1901 — five years before the revival began.

Welchel also claimed Ralph Riggs, who would serve as general superintendent of the Assemblies of God from 1953–59, performed nightly miracles during the Azusa revival. However, Riggs was in Tennessee during the revival years. He never mentioned involvement in the revival, and his family denies any connection to Azusa.

Tommy Welchel’s storytelling style was compelling.
Yet no one has
ever corroborated his claims.

At another point, Welchel described C.M. Ward (whom he misidentified as C.W. Ward) and Riggs as children playing hide and seek together in a “glory cloud” during the Azusa revival. Ward was born in 1909 — 14 years after Riggs and the year the revival ended.

The Ward family embraced Pentecostalism during 1907 in Winnipeg, Manitoba, but there is no record in their published testimonies of them attending the Azusa revival, either before or after C.M. was born.

Welchel erroneously placed well-known Pentecostal ministers Thomas Wyatt and Jean Darnell at Azusa during the revival. He claimed Wyatt was a Los Angeles physician who left his practice to start a healing ministry. However, Wyatt was a teenager living on an Iowa farm during the revival. And Darnell was not born until 1922, 13 years after the revival ended.

Some of Welchel’s stories border on the ridiculous. He tells a story about one revival participant who criticized another for quacking like a duck while speaking in tongues.

According to Welchel, the critic later encountered a 1930s documentary about a tribe from “Quackland” whose language resembled the sounds of quacking ducks. Deciding the man had spoken an actual language, he determined never again to criticize someone who is “in the Spirit.”

No known geographical or linguistic records reference a place or language called “Quackland,” and no such documentary from the 1930s can be identified.

Additionally, Welchel is the earliest known source of the widely repeated prophecy that “100 years after Azusa, a greater revival will come that will far surpass the revival at Azusa.”

At various times, this prophecy has been attributed to revival leaders William J. Seymour, Charles Parham, and Maria Woodworth-Etter. However, there is no record of such statements in their writings or reports from the time. Given the belief of early Pentecostals in Christ’s imminent return, such a long-term prophecy would have been out of character for their ministries.

As it turns out, the prophecy seems to make its first appearance in Welchel’s 2006 book.

Despite these and many other errors and falsehoods, Welchel’s books remain influential. In fact, they eclipse reliable histories of the Azusa Street Revival in all categories on Amazon’s seller ranking and have been translated into other languages. Some leaders still use them as resources for training ministers.

Welchel’s stories are increasingly shaping expectations for an anticipated 21st-century revival. This is problematic when the standard for Spirit-filled living is based on spurious information.

The historically verifiable and contemporary accounts from Azusa Street are remarkable. Yet they are nothing like Welchel’s fantastical version of events.

An unhealthy obsession with splashy miracles and supernatural experiences has led some believers to overlook the joy of salvation and consecrated living that are true marks of revival.

The wondrous events of Christ’s incarnation and resurrection form the foundation of Christianity. God still works miracles, but Pentecostals must be careful not to let a desire for the miraculous cloud discernment and strain credibility.

Just because something might be true does not make it so. Too often, Pentecostals accept vague and unverifiable testimonies based on feelings, excitement, and the word of trusted leaders. Seeking corroborating evidence is not a sign of unbelief, but wisdom.

As a Movement, we must collectively agree that exaggerations and false claims are unacceptable, even when they align with our cherished beliefs. A reputation for poor discernment and blind endorsement weakens our witness to the Holy Spirit’s transforming power.

The inaccuracies in Welchel’s claims matter because truth matters.

Over the years, a number of Pentecostal and charismatic leaders have pedaled extraordinary testimonies of deliverance and healing, only to be exposed as frauds and con artists. Such scandals ultimately erode belief in the gospel and prevent people from trusting God for genuine miracles.

Welchel’s books belong in this unfortunate category.

This article appears in the Spring 2025 issue of Influence magazine.