From the beginning of Mother’s ministry, my sister, Roberta, and I often appeared with her on the platform before she preached. When I was 4 years old, I walked hand-in-hand with Mother as she emerged from the second balcony of Angelus Temple to make the trek down the long ramp to the platform. It might have been a unique experience for some little boys, but it was just everyday life to me.
Mother and I shared a love of flowers, especially roses, and she often carried a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses as we made our way to the platform. Ironically, she rarely took the flowers home with her; she most often gave them away to visitors, dignitaries and servicemen who were in attendance.
A packed house of 5,300 people sat on the edge of their seats for a first glimpse of Mother and me. Their anticipation turned to praising the Lord as we made our way to the platform, signaling the beginning of another service. Robed choirs surrounded the platform and sometimes even stood above the ornate proscenium arch near the sky-blue dome painted with wispy clouds.
Designed with divine direction and creative intention, the interior of Angelus Temple held deep spiritual symbolism to Mother. Crimson carpets lined the aisles on the main floor, signifying the bloodstained path of salvation that led to the cross of Christ. There were seven aisles allowing for easy movement for scores of sinners seeking deliverance. Mother wanted to eliminate any possible hindrance, allowing everyone access to salvation and healing.
Mother wanted every detail of Angelus Temple to reflect the priorities of ministry and service to people. To that end, she always ensured that her services began and ended to coincide with local public transit schedules.
-Rolf K. Mcpherson
Mother baptized 1,500 believers in the Angelus Temple baptistry during the first year it was open. Water baptismal services were common at Angelus Temple, and the baptistry that sat at the rear of the platform was designed to look like a flowing river in the Holy Land. It had a small waterfall bubbling over faux rocks and ferns. She sometimes floated carnations in the baptistry, adding to the peaceful, fragrant setting.
Mother’s contractor carefully executed the entire structure as the Lord had directed, from the domed ceiling 110 feet above the floor to the wide altar space that doubled as an orchestra pit during worship services. The pulpit was on a small lift so that it could easily be removed from sight during a performance or illustrated sermon. The Hammond organ, likewise, sat on an elevator lift so that it recessed into a small basement locker when not in use.
When the Temple opened in 1923, it had no public address system. However, the acoustics of the structure rivaled any hall of its size, and the tiniest sound on the platform could clearly be heard in the second balcony.
Mother wanted every detail of Angelus Temple to reflect the priorities of ministry and service to people. To that end, she always ensured that her services began and ended to coincide with local public transit schedules.
She insisted on more exterior doors at the front of the Temple than were required by city codes to allow people quick exit so everyone could catch their streetcars home after a service. City officials cooperated with the service schedule, as well, often putting on extra streetcars when especially large crowds or multiple services were anticipated.
Mother never wanted to begin a service until every seat was filled. I remember more than once when she would send me out for a glimpse over the balcony to check the size of the crowd. She did not want an empty seat in the place, and when they were all filled, she was ready to preach.
By the time I was a teenager, the excessive pace of Mother’s life and ministry had taken a physical toll on her body. Bouts with dysentery from her early years in China with Robert Semple, tropical fever, a nervous breakdown, and possibly other ailments we never knew of, had weakened her body, requiring constant vigilance and care.
At that point in our lives, our roles shifted. I was no longer the little boy holding Mother’s hand; she now gripped my arm for stability as we walked down the ramps of Angelus Temple. The crowds had no idea of her physical weakness, nor would they know. To Mother, the important thing as long as she had breath was to preach of God’s love and salvation through Christ until the altars were filled with repentant souls.
This article is adapted from a video interview prior to Rolf K. McPherson’s passing in 2009.
