For many of us, the conversation surrounding spiritual gifts feels like a choice between two equally sterile rooms. On one side, we have the cessationist silo: a space where the supernatural has been safely relegated to the first century, locked away in a museum of “apostolic credentials.” It is a tame world, governed by a logic that suggests God stopped acting in “weird” ways once we had a leather-bound book to tell us how He used to act.
On the other side, we find a chaotic “free-for-all” where the Bible is treated as an optional accessory to the “new thing” the Spirit is doing. In this room, subjective experience can become the ultimate interpretive horizon, and the “still, small voice” can start to sound suspiciously like the speaker’s own inner monologue.
But what if there is a third way? What if we can live in the “weird” reality of the New Testament while keeping our feet firmly planted on the ground of the written Word?[1] I call myself an “Active Continuationist with a Bible in My Hands.” And I am intentionally moving away from the “open but cautious” trap, because too often that language becomes a form of functional cessationism: mental agreement without operation. The New Testament does not call us to be merely “not against” the gifts. It calls us to earnestly desire them, actively expect them, and still test them under the authority of the written Word.
1. The Hermeneutic of the Supernatural
We often approach the Bible as if it were a technical manual for a machine that is no longer running. We read about prophecy, healing, and the direct intervention of the Spirit as if they are literary lepers: elements we acknowledge but are careful not to touch. But when we look at the interpretive horizon of the early church, we see that the supernatural was their intellectual air. They didn’t just believe in the gifts; they breathed them.
The Apostle Paul didn’t write to the Corinthians to tell them that prophecy was a temporary bridge to the canon of Scripture. He told them to “earnestly desire the spiritual gifts, especially that you may prophesy” (1 Corinthians 14:1, ESV).[2] If we believe that the Bible is our final authority, then we must deal with the fact that the Bible itself commands us not merely to tolerate these things, but to desire them. To close the door on the gifts is, ironically, to stop being strictly “biblical.”
The Spirit and the Word are not in competition; they are inextricably linked. The Spirit that inspired the text is the same Spirit that illuminates the heart and empowers the believer today.
2. A Text-First Posture in a Weird World
What keeps this position from collapsing into chaos is not a personality, a platform, or a stream of dramatic stories. It is a posture. A text-first approach refuses the false choice between a sterile rationalism and an undisciplined mysticism. It leaves room for the strange contours of spiritual experience while insisting that Scripture remains the map, the measure, and the boundary line.
That matters because the Bible itself is not a tame book. Its world is charged with angels, demons, prophecy, healing, dreams, warnings, and interruptions from beyond the visible frame. If we flatten all of that into metaphor, we are not becoming more biblical; we are becoming more modern. But if we chase every unusual impression without submitting it to the written Word, we trade revelation for impulse.
Thesis: Scripture does not provide us with a “termination date” for the gifts; it provides us with a “template” for their use.[3]
So the goal is not to become weird for the sake of weird. The goal is to become faithful inside the Bible’s own categories. A text-first continuationism lets us admit that the Christian life may include experiences that unsettle our neat paradigms, while also remembering that no experience gets to redraw the contours of divine revelation. The Bible in our hands remains the safety rail, but the destination is not private agreement with spiritual gifts as a concept. The destination is faithful practice.
3. The “System-First” Trap
One of the greatest dangers in the church today is the “system-first” trap. We build a theological system: whether it’s a strict cessationist chart or a “Word of Faith” formula: and then we force the Bible to fit into it. We treat the text as something to be managed rather than something to be submitted to.
When we move toward a “text-first” method, we have to admit that the Bible is a much “weirder” book than our modern paradigms allow, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the realm of spiritual gifts. If we accept the cosmic narrative of the Bible: one filled with divine councils, spiritual warfare, and a God who intervenes in human history: then continuationism isn’t a radical leap; it’s the logical conclusion.
4. The Crucible: Testing the Spirits
Being “open” does not mean being gullible. In fact, true continuationism requires more biblical literacy, not less. If you believe that prophecy is still active, you have a massive responsibility to judge every word against the objective standard of Scripture.
As Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 5:19-21 (ESV): “Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophecies, but test everything; hold fast what is good.”[4]
Discernment is the immune system of the church. Without it, the body of Christ becomes infected by every “new word” and “private revelation” that blows through the door.
Here is my “Kingdom Realist” posture for spiritual gifts:
- Do I actually desire what Scripture tells me to desire? Passive agreement is not obedience. We are not called to be politely non-hostile to the gifts, but to earnestly seek what God gives for the good of His people.
- Does it align with the written Word? If a “prophecy” contradicts the Bible, it’s not from God. Period. The Bible in our hands is the guardrail.
- Does it exalt Jesus and build up the church? The Spirit’s primary job is to shine a spotlight on the Son, and the gifts are not spiritual toys; they are tools for ministry.
5. Walking the Narrow Path
What people often call the “open but cautious” path can easily become its own trap.[5] In practice, it often means giving mental agreement to the gifts while never actually pursuing them: a softer, more respectable version of functional cessationism. It’s easy to be a cessationist; you just close the book on the supernatural and call it “orthodoxy.” It’s easy to be a wild charismatic; you just follow your feelings and call it “the Spirit.”
The harder task, the one I believe we are called to, is to stay in the wilderness where the Spirit moves, to actively expect His gifts, and to never let go of the map.
We must reject the tame modern assumption that we have outgrown our need for the “weird” power of God. Sin is an infection, not just an error, and it requires a supernatural cure. We need the gifts of the Spirit because we are still in the battle. But we need the Bible in our hands because we are prone to wander.
So, I will continue to pray for the sick. I will continue to listen for the promptings of the Spirit. I will continue to desire the gifts.[6] More than that, I want to actively expect God to work, rather than merely leaving a doctrinal box checked in theory. But I will do it all while checking the text, testing the spirits, and refusing to settle for a “safe” faith that has no room for the God of the Bible.
Are you willing to let your theology get weird enough to match the New Testament? Or are you more comfortable in a silo where nothing unexpected ever happens?
We have a shared journey of discovery ahead of us. Let’s make sure we bring our Bibles.
References
[1] Michael S. Heiser, The Unseen Realm: Recovering the Supernatural Worldview of the Bible (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2015).
[2] The Holy Bible, English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016), 1 Cor. 14:1.
[3] Michael J. Svigel, RetroChristianity: Reclaiming the Forgotten Faith (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012).
[4] The Holy Bible, English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016), 1 Thess. 5:19–21.
[5] Robert L. Saucy, “Open but Cautious,” in Are Miraculous Gifts for Today? Four Views, ed. Wayne Grudem (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996). I am using Saucy’s category here as a recognized academic label, while arguing for a more proactive stance of expectancy and practice rather than mere conceptual openness.
[6] Jack Deere, Surprised by the Power of the Spirit (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1993).
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