The south side of Flint, Mich., is a patchwork of auto factories, union halls, corner taverns and conventional churches. Yet in this prosaic setting has arisen in recent years a belief as startling as anything cult-filled California has to offer. The unlikely focus of the new faith is Bernard Gill, for 13 years a respected clergyman in the Church of the Nazarene. Fed up with "promotion, programs, plans," he searched for a fiercer, purer form of Fundamentalism. Seven years ago, at 43, he quit the Nazarenes and with a handful of parishioners established the independent Colonial Village Church.
Soon, however, ordinary Fundamentalism was left far behind. Gill began walking the streets of Flint each morning, pausing in front of every house to pray for a religious revival. Thousands of times he prayed, "My God, why is there no prophet in this land?" Eventually the answer came: Gill himself was the prophet of the biblical "latter rain"* who would prepare the way for Christ's Second Coming. Gill got his first direct messages from God in February 1971, when "I felt his words moving through my mind." To keep them moving, Gill fasted for days at a time. He also took to waking up in the middle of the night for prayer, after which he would lie next to a stack of three-by-five cards and write down God's messages.
Second Witness. It was difficult to be a prophet as well as pastor, husband and father of five. Gill announced that God had therefore provided a second "witness," as described in Revelation 11, in the person of Mrs. Mescal Mclntosh, then 45, one of his parishioners. Gill began putting questions to God via Mclntosh and invited church members to do the same. Instead of "feeling" the words as Gill did, Mclntosh actually heard the voice of God, who, she said, "would just instantly dictate an answer as though he were on the telephone." About 40 of the faithful had left, charging heresy. Those who remained were spellbound. Many began to receive their own dreams and visions, which Gill interpreted, Daniel-style.
Meanwhile Gill was busy directing the lives of his flock: women's skirts must be below the knee and men must grow beards. Gill also came to see Henry Kissinger as the Antichrist because he was a powerful man whose actions affected the fate of Israel, and he sent such fiery spiritual threats in telegrams to President Nixon that the Secret Service paid him a visit. Local clergy inquired quietly about Gill's sanity.
By last year Gill realized that a miracle was needed to make the masses recognize that he was a true prophet. For months he led the church to expect that this proof would be nothing less than the resurrection of someone from the dead. Last July 3 he announced in the church newspaper that the next issue would describe an event that would "publicly vindicate" him as a prophet. On the very day the paper was to appear, Gill, 49, suddenly died of pancreatitis after two days in the hospital.
Mclntosh admits that Gill had come to her asking whether to see a doctor about his stomachaches. God told her to say no, and the prophecy proved fatal. But Mclntosh now saw God's plan: that Gill would soon become his own "vindication" by rising from the grave.