By Gabriel Manyati
In April 1988, Jimmy Lee Swaggart, the fiery Pentecostal televangelist whose sermons once captivated millions, stood at a crossroads that would define his legacy.
Confronted with photographs of his illicit encounters with a prostitute, exposed by rival preacher Marvin Gorman, Swaggart faced the Assemblies of God’s (AOG) proposed two-year rehabilitation programme, including a year-long preaching ban, designed to restore him through accountability and repentance.
His tearful live TV confession on February 21, 1988—“I have sinned against you, my Lord”—had moved a global audience, but his refusal to submit fully to the AOG’s discipline, opting instead for a mere three-month suspension, led to his defrocking and set the stage for a life marked by heartbreak, defiance, and a relentless pursuit of redemption.
This pivotal decision, born of fear that a prolonged hiatus would destroy his $150-million-a-year empire, reveals the paradox of a man whose charisma and hubris shaped a ministry as tumultuous as it was transformative.
Swaggart’s death on July 1, 2025, at the age of 90, closed the chapter on this complex figure, born on March 15, 1935, in Ferriday, Louisiana, USA, to a sharecropper and fiddle-playing Pentecostal preacher, Willie Leon “Sun” Swaggart, and Minnie Bell Herron.
Steeped in the raw, emotive rhythms of gospel music and the fervent faith of the AOG, Swaggart’s early years were shaped by his musical cousins, rock ‘n’ roll legend Jerry Lee Lewis and country star Mickey Gilley. Yet, he chose a different stage—one where the piano served the pulpit, and the gospel was his song.
His story, fraught with scandal and resilience, endures as a reflection of human frailty and divine grace, a narrative that began with his meteoric rise and was forever altered by his refusal to bow to denominational authority.
The Rise of Televangelism
Swaggart’s ascent must be understood within the broader context of the televangelism boom in the United States, a phenomenon that transformed religious expression in the 20th century.
The 1970s and 1980s saw the rise of television as a powerful medium for spreading the gospel, with pioneers like Oral Roberts and Billy Graham paving the way.
By the mid-1980s, cable television and satellite broadcasting enabled ministers like Swaggart to reach unprecedented audiences, creating multimillion-dollar ministries that blended spirituality with showmanship.
The Assemblies of God, a Pentecostal denomination founded in 1914, embraced this medium, ordaining charismatic preachers like Swaggart who could captivate viewers with emotional sermons and musical talent.
This era, however, also bred excess, as televangelists amassed wealth and influence, often inviting scrutiny. Swaggart’s ministry, with its $150-million-a-year empire, epitomised this golden age, but it also set the stage for the scandals that would expose the vulnerabilities of such public platforms.
Swaggart’s rise was meteoric. By the 1970s, his radio programme, The Camp Meeting Hour, reached millions, and his television ministry, launched in 1975, made him a household name by the mid-1980s, with an estimated 2.1 million weekly viewers across 3000 stations.
His sermons, delivered with a rollicking, hand-clapping fervour, paired biblical literalism with a charismatic style that stirred souls to speak in tongues and rise in spiritual ecstasy.
Jimmy Swaggart Ministries, headquartered at the Family Worship Centre in Baton Rouge, became a $150-million-a-year empire, complete with a Bible college, a publishing arm producing The Evangelist magazine, and gospel albums that sold over 15 million copies worldwide.
His Expositor’s Study Bible and 50 Christian books cemented his influence, as did his Grammy-nominated gospel performances.
Swaggart’s ability to blend music and preaching, rooted in his Louisiana heritage, resonated deeply with audiences, particularly in the American South, where Pentecostalism was a cultural force.
The Scandals: A Public Fall
Swaggart’s story is inseparable from the scandals that toppled his empire. The 1988 exposure by Gorman, whom Swaggart had accused of adultery in 1986, led to his public confession and the AOG’s disciplinary response.
When confronted with the AOG’s plan, Swaggart faced a crucible of emotional and practical struggles that tested his faith, identity, and resolve.
The proposed two-year rehabilitation, with its year-long preaching ban, counselling, and oversight, demanded a surrender of control that clashed with his fiercely independent spirit, forged through decades of building a global ministry.
The prospect of stepping away from the pulpit—his life’s calling—likely stirred fears of losing his audience, as the competitive televangelism landscape rewarded constant visibility.
Swaggart’s $150-million-a-year empire, including the Family Worship Centre and Bible college, relied on his charismatic presence, and a prolonged absence risked financial collapse, as donations were already wavering post-scandal.
His belief that a hiatus would “destroy his ministry,” as noted later, reflected a visceral dread of obscurity in an era when peers like Pat Robertson thrived on relentless media presence.
Moreover, submitting to denominational authority meant acknowledging his failure publicly and transparently, a humbling act that his later defiance suggests he resisted.
Had Swaggart submitted fully, several scenarios might have unfolded, each with its own implications for his legacy.
Compliance could have preserved his AOG credentials, lending legitimacy to his restoration and potentially stabilising his ministry by retaining congregants, faculty, and broadcast networks like CBN and TBN.
A transparent repentance, aligned with Galatians 6:1’s call for gentle restoration, might have countered critics and prevented the 1991 scandal by addressing underlying issues through counselling.
However, a year-long absence risked diminishing his influence, as viewers might have shifted to competitors, and financial strains could have threatened his Bible college’s survival.
Alternatively, Swaggart might have returned with a stronger narrative of redemption, earning respect from evangelicals who valued accountability.
Yet, his independent streak suggests submission would have been agonising, potentially leading to internal conflicts or a shift to a smaller, localised ministry, as seen in other preachers’ post-scandal trajectory.
These possibilities highlight the profound personal and professional dilemmas Swaggart faced, torn between humility and hubris, grace and ambition, as he weighed the AOG’s demands against his vision for his calling.
All the same, the heartbreak of his defiance was profound. Donations plummeted, three cable networks cancelled his broadcasts, and attendance at the Family Worship Centre dwindled. Faculty and board members resigned, and students fled the Jimmy Swaggart Bible College.
In 1991, a second scandal struck when Swaggart was stopped by police in Indio, California, for erratic driving, and he was found with another prostitute. Defiant, he told his congregation, “The Lord told me it’s flat none of your business.”
This second fall cost him a $10 million defamation lawsuit to Gorman, later settled for $1.75 million, and further eroded his audience. The man who once rivalled Ronald Reagan’s ear and championed the Christian Right was reduced to a cautionary tale of hubris.
Parallels With And Lessons From Other Fallen Ministers
Swaggart was not alone in his fall from grace; his story echoes those of other prominent ministers whose moral failures shook the evangelical world during the same era.
Jim Bakker, a contemporary televangelist and founder of the PTL (Praise The Lord) Club, faced a strikingly similar downfall in 1987, just a year before Swaggart’s first scandal.
Born in 1940 in Muskegon, Michigan, Bakker had built a televangelism empire alongside his wife, Tammy Faye, with the PTL Club reaching millions through its blend of charismatic preaching, music, and Christian entertainment.
By the mid-1980s, PTL was a $129-million-a-year enterprise, complete with Heritage USA, a Christian theme park in South Carolina.
However, Bakker’s empire crumbled when it was revealed he had an extramarital affair with Jessica Hahn, a church secretary, in 1980, and paid her $279000 in hush money using ministry funds.
The scandal, exposed in 1987, led to further revelations of financial mismanagement, including fraud related to overselling timeshares at Heritage USA.
Bakker was convicted in 1989 on 24 counts of fraud and conspiracy, sentenced to 45 years in prison, and fined $500000, though his sentence was later reduced, and he was paroled in 1994 after serving nearly five years.
The parallels between Bakker and Swaggart are striking. Both men were charismatic leaders who leveraged television to build massive followings, only to be undone by sexual scandals that exposed their hypocrisy.
Swaggart’s criticism of Bakker’s misconduct in 1987, urging his dismissal, added an ironic twist, as Swaggart’s own scandal followed shortly after, suggesting a pattern of competitive moral posturing among preachers.
Like Swaggart, Bakker faced severe consequences: PTL filed for bankruptcy, and he was defrocked by the Assemblies of God, the same denomination that disciplined Swaggart. Both men’s scandals fuelled public scepticism toward televangelism, casting a shadow over the industry’s credibility.
However, Bakker’s fall was compounded by financial crimes, unlike Swaggart’s, which were primarily moral.
Bakker’s response to his fall also diverged; after prison, he expressed remorse and returned to ministry with The Jim Bakker Show, focusing on end-times prophecy, but his later ventures, including selling questionable products like survival food, drew criticism for exploiting fear, contrasting with Swaggart’s focus on rebuilding a preaching-centric ministry.
Another example is Ted Haggard, a prominent evangelical pastor whose fall paralleled Swaggart’s in its public impact. Haggard, born in 1956, was the founder and pastor of New Life Church in Colorado Springs and president of the National Association of Evangelicals, representing 30 million members. In 2006, during the midterm elections, Haggard was accused by a male prostitute, Mike Jones, of engaging in a three-year relationship involving drug use and sexual encounters.
Haggard initially denied the allegations but later admitted to “sexual immorality,” resigning from his positions. The scandal, coming at a time when Haggard was a vocal advocate against same-sex marriage, highlighted the hypocrisy that mirrored Swaggart’s public moralising.
Unlike Swaggart, Haggard underwent a formal restoration process, submitting to church oversight and counselling. By 2010, he founded St. James Church, though his return to ministry remained controversial, with critics arguing his restoration was premature.
Haggard’s case, like Swaggart’s, underscores the tension between public accountability and personal redemption, though his single scandal and willingness to engage in restoration contrast with Swaggart’s repeated lapses and defiance.
Similarly, Henry Lyons, a Baptist minister and president of the National Baptist Convention USA, faced a dramatic fall in the late 1990s. Born in 1942, Lyons led one of the largest African-American denominations, with over eight million members.
In 1997, he was accused of financial misconduct, including misappropriating over $4 million in church funds for personal expenses and an extramarital affair. Convicted in 1999 of racketeering and grand theft, Lyons served nearly five years in prison.
After his release in 2003, he returned to preaching, eventually pastoring a church in Florida, though his influence never recovered its former stature.
Like Swaggart and Bakker, Lyons’ scandal involved moral and financial failings, but his denominational context differed, as Baptists lack the centralised discipline of the Assemblies of God. Lyons’ limited restoration highlights the challenges of regaining trust after a public fall, a struggle Swaggart also faced.
Be that as it may, a poignant example of ministerial fall and redemption is Kathryn Kuhlman, whose story offers a powerful counterpoint to Swaggart, Bakker, Haggard, and Lyons, illustrating the possibility of genuine restoration.
Born in 1907 in Concordia, Missouri, Kuhlman rose to prominence as a healing evangelist in the 1940s and 1950s, known for her Miracle Services and radio programme, Your Faith and Mine.
Her ministry, centred in Pittsburgh and later Los Angeles, drew thousands seeking healing, and her television programme, I Believe in Miracles, reached millions by the 1970s.
Kuhlman’s charismatic presence and emphasis on the Holy Spirit made her a trailblazer among female evangelists. However, in the early 1940s, her ministry had faced a significant setback due to a personal scandal.
In 1938, Kuhlman married Burroughs Waltrip, a divorced evangelist, a decision that alienated her mentor, Helen Gulliford, and many supporters, as divorce was stigmatised in evangelical circles.
The marriage, conducted in secret, was seen as a moral failing, and when it became public, Kuhlman’s reputation suffered. By 1944, the marriage ended in divorce, further damaging her credibility, and she faced accusations of abandoning her calling for personal gain.
Kuhlman’s redemption, however, is a testament to the biblical principles of restoration. After her divorce, she returned to ministry with renewed humility, focusing on healing crusades and avoiding the sensationalism that marked some of her peers.
She acknowledged her mistakes privately, submitting to spiritual mentors and rebuilding trust through consistent ministry. By the 1950s, her Miracle Services were drawing massive crowds, and her emphasis on authenticity and dependence on God resonated deeply.
Unlike Swaggart and Bakker, whose scandals involved ongoing or repeated moral lapses, Kuhlman’s fall was a singular event, followed by a deliberate, transparent effort to restore her integrity.
Her success in the latter half of her career—she ministered until her death in 1976, leaving a legacy of healing and faith—demonstrates that a fallen minister can be restored when repentance is genuine and accountability is embraced.
Kuhlman’s story aligns with Galatians 6:1’s call for gentle restoration, showing that a minister’s past failures need not define their future if they submit to God’s grace and church community oversight.
The stories of Bakker, Haggard, Lyons and Kuhlman enrich the narrative of Swaggart’s own journey, highlighting the varied paths ministers take after falling.
While Bakker’s redemption was marred by ongoing controversies and Lyons’ was limited by diminished influence, Haggard’s partial restoration and Kuhlman’s exemplary recovery reflect the spectrum of outcomes.
These examples underscore the tension between human frailty and divine grace, a theme central to Swaggart’s life and the broader evangelical experience.
A Closer Look At Biblical Restoration
Swaggart’s story, alongside those of other fallen ministers, invites a deeper exploration of the Bible’s teachings on restoration, particularly for those in spiritual leadership. Scripture offers a nuanced framework, balancing grace with accountability.
Galatians 6:1 states, “Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted” (KJV).
This verse emphasises the community’s role in gently restoring the fallen, urging humility to avoid self-righteousness. Similarly, 2 Corinthians 2:7-8 instructs, “So that contrariwise ye ought rather to forgive him, and comfort him, lest perhaps such a one should be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow.
Wherefore I beseech you that ye would confirm your love toward him” (KJV). This passage highlights the importance of forgiveness to prevent despair, a principle relevant to Swaggart’s public contrition and the support he received from loyal followers.
However, the Bible also sets stringent standards for leaders. 1 Timothy 3:2-3 declares, “A bishop then must be blameless, the husband of one wife, vigilant, sober, of good behaviour, given to hospitality, apt to teach; Not given to wine, no striker, not greedy of filthy lucre; but patient, not a brawler, not covetous” (KJV).
This requirement for overseers to be “blameless” (or “above reproach” in some translations) fuelled criticism of Swaggart, whose repeated scandals and defiance of denominational discipline suggested a failure to meet this standard. 1 Corinthians 5:11-13 further complicates the issue, stating, “But now I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such an one no not to eat… Therefore put away from among yourselves that wicked person” (KJV). Critics, like John MacArthur, argue that repeated moral failures, as seen in Swaggart’s case, may disqualify a leader permanently, emphasising the church’s responsibility to uphold integrity.
However, scripture also abounds with examples of restoration. King David’s story in 2 Samuel 12 is particularly instructive. After committing adultery with Bathsheba and orchestrating Uriah’s murder, David repented sincerely: “And David said unto Nathan, I have sinned against the Lord. And Nathan said unto David, The Lord also hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die” (2 Samuel 12:13). David’s restoration, though not without consequences (the death of his child and family strife), illustrates God’s willingness to forgive and restore those who genuinely repent.
Similarly, Peter’s denial of Christ (Luke 22:54-62) was followed by restoration, as Jesus reaffirmed his role in John 21:15-17, saying, “Feed my lambs… Feed my sheep” (KJV). These examples suggest that while leaders must uphold high standards, God’s grace allows for redemption when repentance is authentic.
The theological debate over restoring fallen ministers hinges on the balance between these principles. Some argue, as seen in discussions on the Puritan Board, that restoration to leadership requires rigorous accountability, including a period of proving repentance (James 5:16: “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed”). Others, like the United Brethren Church, outline formal restoration processes, involving spiritual oversight and community support.
Swaggart’s quick return to the pulpit and vague confessions contrast with Kuhlman’s transparent repentance and Haggard’s partial submission to oversight, raising questions about the depth of his adherence to biblical restoration. Yet, his decades of continued ministry and loyal following suggest a form of divine favour, akin to David’s restored calling despite his sins.
Swaggart’s Path to Redemption
Swaggart’s response to his defrocking was to forge his own path. Declaring himself an independent Pentecostal preacher, he established Jimmy Swaggart Ministries as a non-denominational entity, centred at the Family Worship Centre.
In 1995, he launched the SonLife Broadcasting Network (SBN), which grew into a 24/7 global platform, airing programmes like The Message of the Cross and A Study in the Word. His son, Donnie, and grandson, Gabriel, joined him, creating a four-generation preaching dynasty.
By 2009, SBN reached millions, and Swaggart’s ministry, though never regaining its 1980s zenith, stabilised. His publications, including The Evangelist, and his Bible college continued, reflecting a commitment to his calling despite diminished influence.
Critics, however, still question the depth of Swaggart’s repentance. Some, citing his quick return to the pulpit in 1988 and vague references to “particular situations” rather than detailed accountability, argue he sidestepped true biblical restoration, which demands submission to authority and transparency (1 Corinthians 5:11-13).
Others assert that a minister’s moral failure, especially repeated, disqualifies them from leadership, pointing to Swaggart’s scandals as evidence of spiritual pride.
Yet, supporters see a modern miracle in his perseverance, likening him to King David, who, despite adultery and murder, was restored by God’s grace (2 Samuel 12). They point to SBN’s growth and Swaggart’s decades of preaching as evidence of divine favour.
Legacy and Reflection
In view of the foregoing arguments, Swaggart’s legacy is a paradox. He was a preacher of unparalleled charisma, whose music and sermons touched millions, yet his moral failings exposed the fragility of spiritual credibility.
His refusal to bow to denominational authority reflected both arrogance and a fierce belief in his calling, leading him to rebuild a ministry on his own terms.
The Bible’s call for restoration—tempered by accountability—mirrors Swaggart’s journey: a man who fell, rose, and preached on, never fully escaping the shadow of his sins but never ceasing to proclaim the Cross.
In the same breath, stories of Bakker, Haggard, Lyons, and Kuhlman provide a broader canvas, illustrating the diverse outcomes of ministerial failure—from partial redemption to exemplary restoration.
As we reflect on Swaggart’s life, we are reminded that redemption is not a straight path but a rugged one, paved with grace, resilience, and the hope that even the broken can still be used by God.
After all, the Apostle Paul said we have this treasure in earthen vessels (2 Corinthians 4:7), while David said the Lord remembers that we are dust (Psalm 103:14).