In the mid 80s our church had been revitalized by a number of factors. First, we had a "turn around guy" for a pastor who had come in with fresh energy. Then there was an influx of refugees from a sister denomination a few blocks away resulting from a congregational split (never heard the details of the issue, don't care to, but someone said it was "pretty bad"). And then the economic upturn sure didn't hurt anything. There were even expansion plans drawn up and hanging in the foyer in those days and all programs were growing.
See, our denomination was perpetually coming to turns with its past.
Years later at the School on the Hill I learned that a couple generations earlier the more fundamentalist-leaning ilk had pretty much insisted upon a distancing from any hint of charismatic expressions of worship, because, after all how can you prove which spirit from which they hail?
One day pastor reads a letter during AM service stating the position on tongues, or personal prayer languages.
Again, years later I learn that this "problem" surfaces every few years and so the letter goes out.
As fortune would have it, the mother of one of those new families, very active and engaged with us, had (at some point, perhaps recently) experienced a season of spiritual ecstasy during the midst of which she was consumed in a strange tongue, as I gathered, for a period of several days.
Later in the week we learned that pastor had been meeting with the lady and her family but to no avail, they immediately left he church.