Pentecost 2021

“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them. . . Some, however, made fun of them and said, ‘They have had too much wine.’” Acts 2: 4, 13

“It took me giving up drinking to live an intoxicated life.” Anonymous

When was the last time you led an intoxicated life? I know, that’s an unusual question coming from someone who gave up drinking years ago, but it comes from the story of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit descend upon the early Christians and cause them to behave in ways that led onlookers to wonder if they were drunk. God’s spirit can do that to a person.  

Unfortunately, people strive to live lives that are anything but intoxicated. We strive to live measured, calculated lives and weigh the pros and cons, evaluate the risks, before proceeding. Nowhere is that more evident than in our spiritual lives.  We love God, but don’t get carried away. Serve the poor, but don’t go too far. Give, but not so much that we have to change our way of life. Value our faith, but never speak about it.

There are wonderful exceptions, of course. The couple who makes a gift beyond anything they had before. The person who leaves her lucrative job to follow her life-long passion to help victims of domestic abuse. The minister who implements a progressive ministry despite his congregation’s conservative leanings. The teenager who invites a less-popular girl to her sleep over. The woman who forgives when all her friends encourages her to hate. The school that uses its endowment to cut tuition in half. And then there are the folks who, out of nowhere, take up painting, writing poetry, sign up for dancing lessons, or audition for a musical. Intoxicated souls, one and all, and wonderfully so.

On this Pentecost, I wonder if it isn’t time to let the Holy Spirit descend, to let the God’s fire burn more brightly. Others might look on and wonder what’s gotten into us, question the changes they see and hear, but that only means we’ve joined the disciples from long ago, and that’s something to be celebrated.

One Stream

In the mountains, there’s a stream that flows beside an old country church. Like the people in the pews, it usually stays within its banks. Just as it flows by the church, there’s a fork splitting the stream in two narrow branches before reuniting downstream. In the hot summer months, the large clear windows of the church are lifted, and the sound of the stream offers a descant to the congregation’s hymns. 

Tommy Ellis, a young boy who attends church with his grandmother each week, often stares out the window, particularly when the preacher gets carried away. One Sunday, the sermon was about the importance of forgiveness, and the preacher pointed out that there are two types of forgiveness - forgiveness of others and forgiveness of self. “Both are part of our one spiritual journey”, he said waving his index finger as if having found a hidden treasure. “We must forgive our brothers and sisters, but we must also forgive ourselves. The two might look separate, but they’re not, and some of us are good at one type of forgiveness, but not both.” Tommy didn’t understand what the preacher was saying, so he looked out the window at the stream. He watched as the stream divided and the water flowed until meeting again downstream.

On the ride home, his grandmother said how much she enjoyed the preacher’s sermon on forgiveness. “I never thought about there being two types of forgiveness,” she said, “forgiveness of others and forgiveness of self. I particularly liked the fact that the two are part of the same river.” It was then that Tommy realized he had heard the sermon, but he’d heard it by looking out the church window. 

Finding and forgetting (Revised)

Lost in thoughts about the argument he had with his wife over breakfast and the disturbing call from the bank, he entered the elevator unaware of the woman cowering in the corner. Looking over as the doors closed, he asked if she was alright. No, she said, she wasn’t. Ever since her husband died, she’d been deathly afraid of riding in elevators. The man went and sat on the floor beside her until they reached her floor. Once she was gone, he realized he hadn’t thought of himself or his worries at any point while sitting beside the woman.

Of all the ways we get lost, getting lost in our thoughts and worries is the most frightening. Far from losing our way in the woods or taking the wrong road, getting lost in one’s thoughts and feelings is darker and more bewildering.

When I get lost, I often try to figure things out on my own, but I always become entangled in my own thinking, wrapped up in my feelings. The solution is never found within. Only when I’ve gone beyond myself and focused on someone else has the darkness and confusion been lifted. Like the man in the elevator, when I’ve sat beside another and focused on what was going on with them have I forgotten my thoughts and worries.

When I was hungry, you fed me .  . . when I was naked, you clothed me . . . and when I was in prison you visited me, someone once said. I always thought that was about the people who were hungry, naked and in prison. Now I see it’s just as much about us and how we can find ourselves by forgetting ourselves. 

All it takes is getting on the floor and sitting beside another.