Today is the Day of Pentecost, an important festival on our liturgical calendar which comes fifty days after Easter. On Pentecost we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit to the disciples, just as Jesus had promised. The disciples were among a crowd of many and diverse people, gathered in Jerusalem for the Jewish festival of Pentecost, which took place fifty days after Passover. Though they were from different lands, speaking different languages, the Holy Spirit’s power enabled each to hear the words of God’s deeds of power and the good news of the Gospel in their own language.
Pentecost is bright! Exciting! Chaotic! There’s fire, and wind, and a cacophony of sounds. On Pentecost we celebrate unity and diversity, and a gift that was poured on not just on those gathered in Jerusalem, but on us as well. In baptism and beyond, this same Holy Spirit empowers us, emboldens us, and sends us out.
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| Photo by Joseph Barrientos on Unsplash |
It’s been said that the Gospel is meant to afflict the comfortable and comfort the afflicted. I think the same can be said for the role of the Holy Spirit. Certainly there is a time for fire and wind and cacophony to disrupt us, stir us from complacency, and propel us outward to make use of the gifts we have been given. We sorely need these reminders that we are not in control, that the Gospel and the Holy Spirit and the wonder of God are not scarce resources meant to be managed and meted out by us.
We need to be reminded that you, yes you, are gifted and called, empowered and sent out to dream, vision, and prophesy something bigger and wider than the current state of things. You, yes you, have been filled with the Holy Spirit and are not just capable but compelled to share the wonderful good news of God’s love and grace poured out for all people. Yes, for the most part, we are the comfortable in need of some holy nudges (or shoves) to afflict us and rouse us to action.
And also, there are times when we find ourselves already surrounded by fire and wind and cacophony. Times that we are painfully aware that we are nowhere near to being in control. Times we are so broken down and burdened by grief, shame, anger, longing, addiction, despair, and all the other forces that afflict us that what we are most in need of is not more affliction, but comfort. Praise be to God, the Holy Spirit is this, too.
I absolutely love the passage we hear from Romans 8: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
“Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”
The Holy Spirit who is a violent, rushing wind is also the wind and breath of sighs too deep for words. Not dainty sighs of contentment, but the guttural groans and cries of anguish when there are no words, when no prayer is sufficient.
So often words fail us in the face of profound suffering, when we cannot make sense of what is happening to us or around us. Cancer, disease, bodies that seem to fail us; heartbreak and disappointment; death and grief; violence, disaster, brokenness - there is so much to cry out about, so much that leaves us exhausted and numb and without words.
When we don’t know what to pray, when our anger and despair and anguish and confusion weigh heavily on us, the Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf with sighs too deep for words. When we are weak, broken down, and adrift, the Holy Spirit comes alongside us to shore us up. When we are groaning, crying out, and in pain, the Holy Spirit is with us, a tender caregiver embracing shoulders wracked by sobs. When we are waiting, clinging to the tiniest shreds of hope, grasping at ever-thinning patience, the Holy Spirit clings to us, whispering God’s promises into our ears.
This is the Holy Spirit we celebrate at Pentecost. Not just one who stirs up, sends out, and empowers. Not just one whose presence leaves us with mouths agape, amazed and perplexed. But also, one who comes to us in our groaning, our silence, and our sobs and prays with us and for us, filling us with the breath of life when ours is almost gone.
I wonder which manifestation of the Holy Spirit you find yourself in need of today. Whether you are brimming with hope or clinging to a shrinking thread, crying out in amazement or anguish, the Holy Spirit is with you. She is there, I promise, holding you tenderly or propelling you forward. She is the very presence of the grace and power of God, with you, for you, for always. And this is wonderful good news to celebrate, on Pentecost and every day.
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