Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
May 11, 2008
Acts 2: 1-21
You'd probably guess that I would like this story told by Rob Merola, who is an Episcopal priest. He writes, "On the first day of my vacation, I went fly fishing on the Yellowstone River in Montana. I caught nothing but a couple of branches. (Sure glad nothing like that ever happens to me when I go fishing!) It might have been because I didn't have a clue as to what I was doing. I didn't know whether to use flies that float or flies that sink. I didn't know how I should work them in the water. I didn't know which areas of the river would be most productive in terms of holding actively feeding fish.
"The next day all that changed when a good friend took me fishing. He had a boat, so we could cover a lot more water. He showed me what flies to use and how to present them. He showed me exactly where to cast. And guess what? I caught several very nice trout, some weighting several pounds. (I wish a priest wouldn't lie like that.) I could not have caught those trout without the help of my friend. I needed a boat, the proper flies and the necessary knowledge of how and where to fish the river. My friend had all these things and in sharing them freely, he made it possible for me to do something I could not have done on my own."
It occurs to me, on this Sunday of Pentecost, that this might be one of the lasting meanings of the Pentecost story - the Holy Spirit enabling us to do that which we might not be able to do if left to ourselves. In fact, we might even find ourselves doing things which, if left to ourselves, we might never do or even want to do. Which is why I am suggesting that this Pentecost - this Spirit - can be for us both blessing and problem - this Spirit that calls, evokes, prods and pushes the church, and us, into new life, new hope, new possibilities, whether we like it or not.
It may not have occurred to you, but being part of a church makes you part of a great conspiracy. Why do I say that? For just a moment everyone take a deep breath and then exhale. Another breath, exhale. Well, now you've done it, you've joined a conspiracy, because the meaning of the word, "conspire," is to breathe together. Conspire - to breathe together, to be filled with the same Spirit - you can hear spirit in that word - to be enlivened by the same wind.
I think back to that first Pentecost, to the beginning of the conspiracy, described in our text. There they were, about a hundred twenty of them, hiding out, afraid, moping around wondering what they were going to do now...without Jesus. I suspect we have all had those moments when we have felt like those dis-spirited disciples. And then just at their lowest point, they heard what one preacher calls, "a holy hurricane", headed their way. And before any of them could defend themselves, start a discussion group or call a committee meeting - "OK now, all in favor of being filled with the spirit please raise your hand" - before any of them could do anything - that mighty wind had blown through the entire house and, ready or not, they were filled with it, everyone of them filled to the brim with God's very own Spirit. God's breath!
Says author and teacher, Barbara Brown Taylor, "Before the day was over, the church had grown from one hundred twenty to more than three thousand. Shy people became bold, scared people had become gutsy, and lost people had found a sure sense of direction. Disciples who had not believed themselves capable of tying their own sandals without Jesus discovered abilities within themselves they never knew they had. And there was no explanation for it except that they had dared to inhale on the day of Pentecost. They had sucked in God's own breath and had been transformed by it. They were now a body of believers who had received this breath of life and passed it on, using their own bodies to give the gift."
Sounds good. Barbara Brown Taylor is wonderfully eloquent. But do we believe any of it? Do we believe in a God who acts like that, even today? Do we believe in a God who blows right through closed doors, even the closed doors of our own hearts, and sets our hair on fire? Do we believe in a God who still has the power to change, yes to transform us, as individuals and as a church? Or do we even want such a God? Or have we come to a comfortable unspoken understanding that God is pretty old and tired by now and really isn't transforming much of anything anymore, and especially not me. Does Pentecost still happen? Does the Spirit still blow among us and within us, wild and free and unpredictable? And again, do we even want it to?
Ronald Luckey, a Lutheran pastor in Kentucky, tells this story: "I was talking to a young man at a community meeting a few years ago. He said that he and his wife were the parents of a newly adopted child. I congratulated him and told him that my wife and I had an adopted child and could remember those heady days when a newly born child had first come to our home. 'Tell me about your adoption,' I said. He said the social worker had called a few months before and said a child of mixed race was available for adoption and asked if he and his wife would be interested. They said of course they would. He continued his story: 'That night we called our parents to announce the great news. I knew how my father was going to react and he didn't surprise me. I told him the birth mother of the child was African-American and the birth father was Hispanic. My father was not pleased to say the least and he said so. I love my father, but he is one of the most racially bigoted men I have ever known.
"'But you know, 'he continued, 'when we brought our new son home an amazing thing happened. When my father, the bigot, met the most beautiful baby in the world (well, next to our grandson, of course) something just clicked. In spite of himself, he couldn't stop smiling. And after just few moments, he was saying 'Let me hold him. Give him to me. Look at this boy! Isn't this the cutest kid you have ever seen? I can't wait to take him fishing, can't wait to teach him how to throw a football. Isn't this kid something?' This was no longer some mixed-race child. This was his grandson." And my guess, if you had been in the room as that man held his grandchild for the first time, and if you had listened closely, you might have heard something, the sound of a wind, a fresh breeze bringing in love and blowing down the door of bigotry and fear. Who knows? Just for a moment granddad's hair might have even caught on fire. Do you think God still works that way? I think so.
But, I have met a lot of people over the years who would disagree with me, who said they have never encountered God, never experienced this Spirit. But then they start talking. And, if you listen you will hear them tell about a time in their life when hope seemed useless, when life seemed nothing more than moving bricks from one pile to another. But then, much to their surprise, they seemed to get a second wind, a door opened they had never noticed before, and for the first time in months they seemed able to breathe again.
Or they speak of a broken relationship, estrangement from someone they really cared about. Maybe it was something they did, maybe something the other person said. Hardly seemed to matter anymore. And one day, for no apparent reason, they grabbed the phone, the other person said hello, and hearts opened again. Did you feel it, the breeze?
Have you ever had a time in your life when you exhibited gifts you never dreamed you had? Just at that moment when you wanted to make an angry response, really put that person in their place, you heard yourself speak a word of reconciliation. Where did that come from? Someone came to you with a personal dilemma, and just when you couldn't think of anything to say, you heard yourself speak a powerful word of hope. Where did that come from?
The committee meeting was getting nowhere - nothing but conflict and misunderstanding. And just when everyone was just about to give up and go home, people began to listen to each other, fresh ideas were proposed, people got creative together. It was as if a fresh wind blew through the room and cleared everyone's heads.
Says Taylor, "Once you get the hang of it, the evidence is easier and easier to spot. Whenever two plus two does not equal four but five, whenever you find yourself speaking with eloquence you know you do not have or offering forgiveness you had not meant to offer, whenever you find yourself taking risks you thought you did not have the courage to take or reaching out to someone you had intended to walk away from - you can be pretty sure, in those moments, you are learning something from the Holy Spirit. And more than that, you are taking part in it, you're breathing it in and you're breathing it out, you're taking God into you and giving God back to the world again, only this time with a little piece of yourself attached."
What do we do with this Spirit that refuses to play by our rules? Again, that is why I speak of Pentecost as both possibility and problem. Because just when everything seems settled and comfortable and in place, and I'm fully in control, the door is blown open and my hair catches on fire. And we discover that God's plans and designs, curiously, don't look anything like ours. So if you don't want any change in your life, you might want to stay away from the "Come, Holy Spirit, Come" prayer. And be careful about your breathing, and be careful about being caught off guard, maybe even in worship. For you see this wind always seems to find a way.
But my hope is that you keep praying and keep breathing. After all, this is God's moment-by-moment gift to us. So be ready, be expectant. Because I believe that there are gifts of the Holy Spirit all around us and within us, and I am confident that whenever the time is right, we will both know them and experience them.