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Two New
Yorkers were driving in the state of Louisiana when they entered
the town of Natchitoches. They immediately began discussing
with one another how to pronounce the town's name. The discussion
escalated into an argument and became rather heated. As it
was nearing lunchtime, they decided to find a fast food emporium.
Standing at the counter, one of them decided to settle the
argument before ordering. So he said to the person waiting
on them: "Would you help settle a disagreement between
us? Would you please pronounce where we are, very slowly and
very clearly?" Whereupon the counter man said to the
two men: "Burrrr-gerrrr Kinnnng."
So where
are we ... really? Obviously, we are here ... rooted in
the present ... grounded in the moment ... located in time
... Birmingham, Michigan ... June 7 ... First United Methodist
... 8:41 a.m. Less obvious is our historical location ...
our liturgical location ... our ceremonial location ...
which is that wonderful, colorful, implausible and utterly
incomprehensible experience known as Pentecost ... i.e. Jerusalem
... 29 A.D ... nine o'clock in the morning.
This is
why we are dressed in red. Because, once upon a time, a group
of people felt themselves to be "on fire." And,
quite apart from the question of whether or not we can be
them, we have the intuitive good sense to know that we should
never forget them.
Which
calls to mind the college graduate, taking the summer off
to "unwind" by traveling through Europe on a Eurail
pass. One night, in northern Italy, he awakens to find the
train stopped and a red light flashing frantically in his
compartment. He can't read enough Italian to translate the
words under the light, but the urgency of the flashing coupled
with the suddenness of the stopping lead him to the only obvious
conclusion ... the train is on fire.
Springing
to his feet, he throws on his pants, grabs his knapsack, fumbles
with the door latch, and lunges into the corridor. Looking
down to the end of the car, he screams at the conductor: "Do
you speak English?"
"What's
wrong?" the conductor cries (in perfect English).
"The
light ... the red light...the flashing red light ... with the
words under it I can't read (because they're printed in Italian).
What do they say?" the student counters.
"Ah,"
says the conductor. "They say when the train is stopped,
please do not use the toilets." Leading one to ponder
where the church of Jesus Christ is these days. On fire? In
motion? In the toilet? Stopped dead in its tracks?
We read
today's story because it has the feel of "fire and motion"
about it, even as we understand this is not just any "fire
and motion," but God's "fire and motion" ... made
possible through the agency of the Holy Spirit. In the nick
of time, one might add. For there they were, the friends of
Jesus ... the discouraged friends of Jesus ... hanging around
Jerusalem, pondering the prospects of life after Jesus. But
let Luke tell it:
Suddenly,
they heard what sounded like a powerful wind from heaven,
the noise of which filled the entire house in which they
were sitting. And something appeared to them that seemed
like tongues of fire. These separated and came to rest on
the head of each. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit
and began to speak in foreign languages as the Spirit gave
them ability.
In effect,
what we have is a room full of people ... all fired up ... talking
at the same time ... in a cacophony of languages. Some who
heard it called it "babble." But others, taking
time to sort out words and phrases, said: "I recognize
that language. It is the language spoken by the people in
my ancestral nation." And other languages became similarly
recognized, to the degree that what was experienced was equivalent
to a United Nations town meeting, taking place without benefit
of interpreters or headphones.
But this
posed an obvious question. Where did these men learn these
languages, given that they were all residents (and natives,
for the most part) of Galilee? This was a good question, but
one for which there was no ready answer. Which prompted scoffers
to say: "Pay no attention to these men. You will find
what is in them, once you check the wine supply."
Whereupon
Peter countered with a pair of arguments. First, he said,
these men can't be drunk because it is still early in the
morning ... meaning that they haven't been up that long to
get that high. Second, if they are drunk, it is more God's
doing than the barkeep's. For what is in them is not spirits,
but Spirit ... not whiskey, but wind ... not bourbon, but breath ... not
Galliano, but God. And either Peter was sufficiently convincing ... or
the Holy Spirit was not yet done for the day ... because, before
the sun called it quits in the west, fully 3,000 bystanders
approached the disciples, saying: "Tell us what we need
to do to get what you guys seem to have." Which is why
we associate, to this very day, the initial stirrings of the
Christian movement with whatever it was that happened that
fiery morning in Jerusalem.
The mistake
we make, some 2,000 years later, is in assuming that because
the Spirit came in that manner once, the Spirit will come
in a similar manner every time out. Persons who think thusly
draw the erroneous conclusion that if the Spirit doesn't come
in like fashion ... or in manners similarly spectacular ... then
it can be logically inferred that the Spirit hasn't come.
On more
than one occasion, I have had people visit this church (or
previous churches I have served), only to attend a couple
of Sundays and then move on. When asked what led them to look
further down the road, they explained they were looking for
a "Spirit-filled" church. By inference, such persons
are suggesting that ours is not. Occasionally, I press the
question. "What constitutes a Spirit-filled church?"
I ask. "How does one know when one is in one?" To
which I receive a variety of answers. But most people generally
point to one of two signs. I am told that ours is not a "Spirit-filled
church" because there is either too little animation
in the congregation, or too much formality in the ministry.
By "too
little animation," they mean that you (as a congregation)
are stiff. They are critiquing everything from your posture
to your passion. They do not sense that the Spirit is moving
you. They are looking for you to sing, sway, speak, shout,
clap, raise your hands, or even faint in ways that have never
been your custom. By "too much formality in the ministry,"
they are critiquing me, demanding that I loosen the liturgy,
unbridle the order and throw away my sermon manuscript, the
better the allow for the spontaneous to happen and God's Spirit
to breathe.
Which
is an opinion, of course. But little more than an opinion.
As concerns the worship of God, there is no right or wrong
way of doing things. To suggest that there is but one formula
by which the Spirit can be experienced or expressed is, in
effect, a contradiction in terms. The nature of Sunday morning
worship varies from place to place. And, in most places, it
is often a matter of practice and tradition ("doing what
we have always done") coupled with a matter of comfort
and taste ("doing what feels good"). Then we quietly
assume we are the norm, claiming for ourselves the middle
ground. Episcopalians are too rigid. Baptists, too loose.
And Pentecostals, nowhere to be found on our personal reference
map.
I remember
the first time I worshiped in a church where people were regularly
"slain in the Spirit." This is a practice, popular
among certain Christian groups, that describes what happens
when an individual comes to the altar (or chancel rail) and
is touched or thumped on the forehead (in a moment of deep
prayer) by one said to possess gifts for healing or Spirit-channeling.
When the touch (or thump) is received, the individual is literally
propelled backwards, as if having been struck a stunning blow.
This backward fall is best described as a faint, although
I am not certain all the same medical criteria apply. Churches
that feature "slayings in the Spirit" provide assistants
to stand behind the people being "touched," the
better to catch them when they tumble.
Such things
are spectacular to behold. Such occurrences are also cited
as evidence that "surely the Spirit of the Lord is in
this place." And it may be so. It may also not be so.
I know of nothing to be gained by trying to figure the "whys
and wherefores" of every strange thing that happens in
church. One person may faint dead away as a result of being
touched by the Spirit. A second person may faint dead away
as a result of watching the first person fall. The power of
the Spirit is great. So, too, is the power of human suggestibility.
And I lack the discernment that enables me to tell one from
the other.
Unless,
of course, someone tells me. Which someone did. Just the other
day. He called me up to thank me for coming to the hospital
to see his wife ... in the pre-op room ... at 7:00 in the
morning ... before they wheeled her off to surgery.
I wasn't
there that long. And I didn't say that much. But I prayed,
after the three of us joined hands. And he said:
I need
to tell you something about that prayer. I didn't sleep
much the night before. And I was kind of shaky going in.
But something that happened in that room that has changed,
forever, the way I am going to think about prayer. Because
while you were praying, I felt something come from your
hand into mine. It traveled up my arm ... through my body
... out my other arm ... and into my wife. And I wasn't
just thinking it ... or imagining it. I was feeling it
(as real as I've ever felt anything in my life). Once it
came and went, I knew that everything was going to be all
right. And from that moment on, I was as calm as calm could
be.
Can I
explain that? No. Do I understand that? No. Did I feel anything
leave me? No. Did his wife feel anything enter her? Don't
know. But I believe it. And he swears by it (and said I could
tell you about it).
In truth,
most of us do not know how the Holy Spirit operates. Neither
are we all that certain who ... or what ... the Holy Spirit
is. Biblically, we have a host of suggestions to choose from.
Early in the book of Genesis, the Spirit is mentioned as being
part of the creative process:
In the
beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth
was without form and void, and darkness was on the face
of the deep. And the Spirit of God was moving over the face
of the waters.
But this
is one of those rare places where I actually prefer an earlier
translation of the Bible, wherein we read: "And the Spirit
of God brooded over the face of the deep." The word "brood"
sounds beautifully gestational ... as in a mother hen brooding
over her nest, an artist brooding over his paints, or even
a preacher brooding over seven blank pieces of manuscript
paper.
John Killinger,
taking his cue from Carl Jung, suggests that it may be helpful
to envision this pre-creation period of brooding as creation-in-gestation
... creation-in-utero ... creation-in-the-womb ... literally,
creation waiting to be born. Killinger also suggests that
this "brooding Spirit moving o'er the face of the deep"
might be better described as female than male. He equates
this "brooding Spirit" with the word "Anima"
(the root word for "animation"). Linguistically,
Anima is always feminine. He suggests that if we could learn
to call the Holy Spirit "She," instead of "He"
or "It," we could introduce femininity into God's
nature without having to surrender or soften the corresponding
image of God the Father.
For a
second stop on our biblical journey, turn to Psalm 51. This
Psalm is alleged to be David's prayer of confession after
his affair with Bathsheba and his complicity in the death
of Bathsheba's husband. David prays:
Create
in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within
me. Cast me not away from thy presence, and take not thy
Holy Spirit from me.
In this
Psalm, the Spirit is seen, not in a creating mode, but in
a protecting and renewing mode. David is clear that if God's
Spirit be removed, he (David) will have no future.
Now move
from David to Jesus. Mark writes that when Jesus was baptized,
the heavens opened and the Spirit descended upon him like
a dove. What a beautiful image. But here, the Spirit is neither
creating nor protecting, so much as confirming, anointing
and announcing. Depending upon which Gospel is cited, the
Spirit is either telling Jesus who he is, or telling the crowd
who he is.
Later,
when Jesus first speaks in the synagogue, there is an implied
matter of "credentials" to deal with. What (or who)
gives Jesus the right to speak? Interestingly enough, Jesus
produces neither a diploma nor an ordination certificate.
A Yale Divinity School degree would have nicely taken care
of things, but Jesus doesn't possess one. Neither does anyone
stand up and vouch for him. Instead, he says: "I am here
because the Spirit of the Lord is upon me." Again, an
anointing function.
Years
later, on the eve of his dying, John records Jesus as saying
something like this to his disciples:
I must
leave you soon. It will be better for you that I go. But
I will not leave you alone. I will pray to my Father. He
will send you Another. The one he sends will be your Comforter
... your Instructor ... your Advocate. The coming one
will be with you forever. You will not be orphaned. You
will not be impotent. You will receive power from on high.
And who
will do all of the above? The Holy Spirit, that's who.
I could
go on. But there is little need. My only purpose in walking
you through this material is to illustrate that the Holy Spirit
(biblically considered) is much more than something that once
caused an early morning ruckus in Jerusalem ... and occasionally
re-emerges in bursts of spectacular irrationality among Christians
who "go in for that sort of thing."
Over the
years, I have tended to distrust the more spectacular and
implausible claims made in the name of the Holy Spirit. I
have waited, instead, to see the fruits. Don't tell me how
high you jumped the night you got religion. Tell me how straight
you walked the next morning, once you came down.
As for
me, the Spirit has never bowled me over, knocked me down,
blinded my eyes, stopped me in my tracks, or made me talk
funny. But once a week, usually on a Friday or Saturday, the
Spirit wrestles mightily with me ... occasionally, even speaking
through me. And there have been a few occasions when She has
sustained and renewed me, at the very moment when I was beginning
to think of myself as an orphan. Surprisingly, the Spirit
stills broods over the face of my deep, leading me to believe
that even 57 year olds remain in the process of creation.
And there are some who say that the Spirit is never more transparent
in me than when I sing.
I suppose
I might describe my "walk with the Spirit" as largely
unspectacular. But somehow, the word "unspectacular"
doesn't quite feel right. So let me substitute a word like
"steady" (which, unfortunately, some of you will
still find less than adequate). But "steady" is
not to be sneezed at. My auto mechanic tells me that a jump
start will suffice to start my car when the battery is dead.
But the best way to bring a battery to full strength is by
means of a trickle charge. And what is a trickle charge? It
is where one's battery remains connected to a power source
for hours and hours and hours.
There
are some, no doubt, who need to be "slain in the Spirit."
There are some, no doubt, who need to be "jumped by the
Spirit." There are some, no doubt, who need to be "baptized
in the Spirit" (so great is the need to dramatically
wash away the old and superimpose the new). But there are
some ... and of this I have no doubt, for I am one of them
... into whom the Spirit has quietly trickled for hours and
hours and hours. Whatever starts your heart, my friends. Whatever
starts your heart.
Note:
First Church annually holds its Pentecost celebration on the
initial Sunday in June, complete with great hymn singing,
balloon raising, and birthday cake on the lawn. This accounts
for the sermonic emphasis and the selection of the passage
from Acts. As a part of this year's observance of Pentecost,
80 new adult members were received at the 11:00 service (making
this the largest such membership class in the researchable
history of First Church's 177 years).
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