Faith: Of Giants and Storms 1 Samuel 17; Mark 4: 35 – 41

           As a child, I loved to read and hear the David and Goliath story, and I enjoyed telling it to my own daughters when they were children.  It is one of my favorite Bible stories.  At one level, this story is about the triumph of the underdog. I find myself cheering for the underdog in sports playoffs. (Well, I did grow up near Houston and it seemed like the Astros were always the underdog!)  I find myself cheering for the underdog in love stories. (In my favorite TV show, the Big Bang Theory, I have celebrated as each of 3 of the 4 geeky scientists have found love.  Now we just gotta find Raj a girlfriend.)  Even in some elections I find myself cheering for the underdog, (supporting the grass-roots contender over the candidate sponsored by corporations and lobbies with deep pockets). Perhaps one of the reasons I find myself cheering for the underdog is my deep-rooted connection with this Biblical narrative.

            While I probably connected with the “triumph of the underdog” theme when I heard this story as a child, when I told it to my children, I told it as a story of faith—faith in God, faith put into action, and faith over fear.

            Faith in God: Underlying all he says and all he does in this narrative is David’s faith in God—his firm and certain knowledge of God’s power and benevolence—knowledge not only in his head but also in his heart.  From the very core of his being—David knows—David knows God’s presence, provision, and protection.  Shocked by Goliath’s taunting the Israelite army, scandalized by Goliath’s defiance of God Almighty, and surprised by the inaction of the Israelites, David demands of the soldiers, “This giant is trash-talking our God.  Who is going to do something about it?”  Arguing with King Saul about fighting Goliath, David recalls God’s presence with him tending his sheep.  Interpolating God’s past provision and protection as a foundation for relying on God in the present and future, David declares his statement of faith.  To Saul he says, the 37 God, who delivered me from the teeth of the lion and the claws of the bear, will deliver me from this Philistine." And to Goliath, he shouts, 45 "You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. 46 This very day the Lord will deliver you into my hand,  (NRSV) David has strong faith that God, the Almighty is with his servant, David, and God will deliver him from the clutches of this giant.  

            Faith put into action:  One of the things that strikes me about this story is the contrast between being entrenched and being unencumbered.  The 2 armies are entrenched.  Camped on 2 hills facing each other with a valley between, the Israelites and the Philistines are planted.  For 6 weeks, Goliath has been marching into the valley each day to issue his challenge to the Israelites.  Each day, their feet become more firmly mired in the ground where they are.   Each day, they become less likely to advance out into that valley.  Goliath, the Philistine champion, Saul, the Israelite king, and the other professional soldiers wear armor, carry a shield, and wield sword and spear. They are weighed down—entrenched, if you will—by the trappings of war.  But not David. Unarmed and without armor, no longer burdened even with the care packages he brought for his brothers, David is unencumbered. His hands are free to pick up ammunition. His legs are free to run at the unsuspecting giant.  His arms are free to sling stones.  Unencumbered by the traditional trappings of war; unencumbered by what his physical senses tell him (he doesn’t fixate on the fearsome sight or thunderous words of the giant); unencumbered by fear, David is free to respond in faith.  Unencumbered, David is free to respond with the unseen but known presence of God.  Unencumbered, David is free to respond with outside-the-box strategy.  Unencumbered, David is free to respond—he is not stuck in the mud.

            Faith over fear: When we allow fear to grab hold of us, we find ourselves losing our faith.  Just as King Saul and the rest of the Israelite army feared the giant, Goliath, we often fear the giants we face, the giants that mock and deride us.  What or who are the giants who challenge you? financial troubles, broken or unsatisfying relationships, addictions, health issues?

            In 1975 my Daddy was diagnosed with manic-depressive disorder.  This giant mocked and derided him for 28 years.  From time to time this giant would succeed in taking my Daddy away from me and placing before me someone else—someone who had difficulty attending even to brief conversations, someone who could not recall some of my best memories, someone who seemed distant.  It was easy to be afraid during those times—to be afraid that this giant would defeat us—that my Daddy was gone for good.  It was easy to be afraid during those times—to be afraid that this giant would return to torment others in our family—that my daughters or I would someday suffer from this disease which can be inherited.  It was easy to be afraid during those times—to be afraid that we faced this giant alone. 

            But most of the time, the medications kept Daddy’s chemistry in balance and the psychiatric sessions helped him balance his emotions and how he might choose to respond to them.  And in those times—the good times, we recognized and claimed God’s presence with us. We became unencumbered.  During those 28 years, we learned to define healing not only in physical terms but also in mental, emotional, and spiritual terms. We became unencumbered.  Eschewing the stigma of mental illness in the small town, southeast Texas culture of the 1970s, we let go of the need for secrecy.  We shared my Dad’s illness, and others joined us in facing up to this giant.  We became unencumbered.  We let go of the need for a complete, long-term cure, and we celebrated even short periods of health and wholeness.            

            Just about every time my dad experienced a manic episode, I would become fearful again.  And like the disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee in today’s gospel reading, I would demand of God, “Don’t you care that we are drowning—drowning in this storm of mental illness?”  “God, Don’t you care what’s happening to Daddy?” When my Daddy died, I railed at God again—“God, did you even care what happened to Daddy over all those years?”  And a couple of days after his death, reading all the scriptures my Daddy had underlined in his Bible, I came across Romans 8: 38 – 39—one of my own favorite scriptures.  I read my Dad’s statement of faith.  I read my Dad’s affirmation of Paul’s claim that nothing can separate us from God’s love.  And a great sense of peace came over me, for I realized—Of course God cares . . . God was with my Daddy in the boat that crossed the storm-tossed sea of his mental illness.  With every wave that crashed against that boat, God was holding onto my Daddy’s hand—not letting the waves wash him overboard, but keeping him in the boat.  With every gust of wind that may have blown my Daddy down, God was holding onto him, keeping him in the boat. 

            Daddy always said our vision is 20/20 in hindsight.  Looking back, I see God with us in the storm-tossed boat.  So now, when like David, I face a giant, I can claim  the God, who delivered my Daddy from the teeth of mania and the claws of depression, will deliver me from whatever giant that challenges me.

            Sometimes, like the disciples, we cry out, “God, don’t you care, what’s happening to us?  Don’t you care that we’re drowning?”  Of course God cares.  God cares so much that God is in the boat with us.  Riding out the storms of broken relationships and financial troubles.  God’s presence reminds us, “Do not be afraid.  You are not alone.”  We cry out, “God, don’t you care, what’s happening to us?  Do you even see these giants who are mocking and deriding us, challenging our faith in you?”  Of course God cares.  God cares so much, that God is standing right beside us, facing down the giants of illness and addictions with us.  God’s presence reminds us, “Do not be afraid.  You are not alone.”  For nothing—neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8: 37 – 38) Let us pray:

Give us faith, O God—to ride out the storms of life and to face the giants that challenge us—knowing you are with us.  Help us walk the paths of our life by faith and not by sight.  Amen.

               

Everybody else is doing it—1 Samuel 8: 4 – 20

            Each year of my childhood, my older brother played summer baseball.  So we spent a lot of time at the baseball fields.  The first couple of summers, I remember asking my parents, “Can I go play under the bleachers?”  They would reply, “No, we’re watching Chuck’s game.  We can’t go with you and watch out for you.  You need to stay here.”

And I would say, “But everybody else is getting to play there, and their parents aren’t watching them.  Why can’t I?”  My parents would reply, “You are not everybody else.” 

            When I was in 6^th grade—still in elementary school there and then—I asked my mom, “My legs are so hairy.  Can I shave them?”  She replied, “No, you’re too young.” It just so happened that Judy—a close family friend who was a high school senior—overhead the conversation.  She supported my mom saying, “Once you shave your legs, the hair will grow back all dark and stubbly.  Then, you’ll have to keep shaving them.  You won’t have a choice.  Wait another couple of years.”  I persisted.  “But everybody else is shaving their legs.”  And my mom replied, “You are not everybody else.”

            Now you may think when I grew up, I was freed from this exchange . . . but no.  When she was in 4^th grade, MM asked me, “Why do I have to wash my own clothes?”  I replied, “You need clean clothes to wear to school.  Each person in this family has responsibilities.  It’s your responsibility to wash your clothes.”  And MM replied, “Mrs. Y doesn’t make Ke wash her clothes.  Mrs. H doesn’t make Ka wash her clothes. Nobody else has to wash their clothes.”  I replied, “I’m not Mrs. Y or Mrs. H, and you’re not Ke or Ka”—a variation of “you are not everybody else.”

            About this same time, our girls asked us, “Why can’t we live in the Woods or the Plantation? (These were neighborhoods with nicer homes than ours—close to the school where I worked and which the girls attended).  Kevin and I told them, “It would cost a lot more money to buy a house there than it costs for our house here.  If we bought a house in the Woods or the Plantation, we would not have money to do special things together like take family vacations.”  And the girls persisted, “But, everybody else lives there.”  And we replied, “We are not everybody else.” 

            Give us a king like all the other nations have.  “Everybody else has a king,” say the Israelites in today’s text.  “We want to be like everybody else.”  The problem is, they are not everybody else.  About a thousand years before, God had offered a covenant with the patriarch of the their clan—Abraham.  God had promised to bless all families of the earth through Abraham’s family.  Circumcision was the physical sign distinguishing them from the other peoples they encountered.  Worshiping the God who covenanted with him was the spiritual sign distinguishing Abraham and his family from the other peoples they encountered.  Abraham & his descendents—the Israelites—were not to be like everybody else.

              750 years later—about 250 years before the events narrated in today’s text—God raised a leader, Moses, to liberate the Israelites from bondage to the Pharaoh.  Leading them out of Egypt, Moses brought them to the sacred Mt. Sinai, where God re-established God’s covenant with these descendants of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob.  “I will be your God and you will be my people,” God said to them there. “I will set you apart—making you my most treasured possession among all peoples of the earth.”[1]  There at Mt. Sinai, God gave the people the law—the law which placed God first and foremost in their hearts and minds and lives; the law which would guide their communal living; the law which set them apart from the other peoples they would encounter.  The Israelites were not to be like everybody else.

            After Moses died, for 250 years, the Israelites lived in a sort of confederation of tribes brought together from time to time by a succession of men and women who led them—usually in some kind of military engagement.  Some of these “judges” were faithful, strong leaders intent on doing what God showed them to do.  Others were weak and immoral. Give us a king like all the other nations have.  “We want centralized, strong leadership,” the people say.  It is as if they do not realize they are already governed by God, the Protector and Preserver.  They have shut their eyes and ears and hearts and minds to their divine king.  They have forgotten God’s covenant—“I am the Lord your God.”  They have forgotten God’s law—“Worship only me.”  They have forgotten who they are and whose they are.  “I will be your God and you will be my people.”  They have forgotten they are different from the other peoples.  They want to be like everybody else.

            God commands Samuel—the current judge of Israel—to tell the people what it will mean to have a king.  The king will take their sons for his army, their daughters for his household, their harvest for his table, their land for his holdings.  The king will blur their identity as God’s covenant people.  But that doesn’t change their minds or their hearts. Give us a king like all the other nations have.  We want to be like everybody else.

            Every summer during baseball season, some kid got hurt playing under the bleachers—skinned knee, broken arm, mild concussion.   At sleepovers, I started borrowing a razor to shave my legs even though my mom had told me not to.  Guess what, my leg hair did grow back dark and stubbly and unlike my cool, free, hippie-type friends in college whose blonde leg hairs could not be seen, I was chained to a razor or to Nair.   Her first week at college, MM was aghast to report her dormmates did not know how to use a washing machine.  They didn’t know how much detergent to use, which clothes to wash separately, which clothes to wash in cold water, which clothes not to put in the dryer.  And just last month—out of the blue—SL said “I’m glad we didn’t buy a house over in the Woods.”  We asked her “Why?”  And she replied,  “Because I’ve been thinking about our family vacations. We got to do a lot of fun things, and I have some great memories.”  Funny thing—on the on the other side of “why can’t I?  everybody else is” –parents seem to know what they’re talking about. 

            Denying God’s sovereignty, lacking faith in God’s protection, turning their backs on relationship with God, the Israelites demand, There must be a king over us so we can be like all the other nations. Our king will judge us and lead us and fight our battles.”  We want to be like everybody else.  Just as God has been doing since humans first broke relationship with God in the Garden of Eden, God sought a way to reconcile the relationship.  God, the Preserver provides not just a king but a monarchy anointed by God to rule the people.  When the kings turn a deaf ear to God’s word, God, the Reconciler sends prophets to speak God’s message and open their ears.  When the priests and the people turn a blind eye to God’s law, God, the Almighty uses military defeat and exile to humble the people. When the exiles cry out for mercy, God, the Sustainer leads them home and encourages anew the hunger and desire to offer God’s justice to all.  In the fullness of time, God becomes incarnate.  God, the Son, comes to live as and among humans to bring ultimate reconciliation between Loving Creator and beloved creature.  Living within us, God the Holy Spirit continues to draw us back to God the Loving Parent—reminding us, “You are not everybody else. You are my beloved child.” God, the Holy Spirit works within us, transforming us so that we will live the lives of God’s treasured people.

            But living as a set-apart people means living counter to the culture.  “The lure of conformity is seductive . . .  [and] the pressures of alternative living are too great.”[2] It’s easy to get sucked into a pattern of acquisition and consumption—working longer hours to buy more stuff.  Everybody else is doing it.  But God whispers, “Spend your time with me and with your family.  Relationships—not stuff—will fill that empty space in you.”  It’s easy to be swept away with self-interest and self-fulfillment.  Everybody else is doing it.  Then God puts a lonely person as your next-door-neighbor, a transplanted east or west-coaster as your officemate, a child with only one parent in your daughter’s dance class—and God opens a door to a friendship.  In relationship, not in isolation, you will find fulfillment.

            “The lure of conformity is seductive . . . [and] the pressures of alternative living are too great.”[3]  We hear about homelessness but since we do not see anyone living on the streets or in their car here, we wonder if homelessness is exaggerated or even real.  We hear about hunger and respond with food for the food bank assuming our donation will solve the problem of hunger. We hear about “the poor” but question the motives and needs of those who seek assistance from PACA, our Thrift Shop, or other helping agencies.  You see, everybody else lives and works and plays in a framework of “them” and “us.”  But God says, “You are not everybody else.  You are Christ’s disciple.  Engage in conversation.  Donate your attention, your time, and yourself as well as your goods.  Relationship is the key to discipleship.”

             “The lure of conformity is seductive . . . [and] the pressures of alternative [being] are too great.”[4] This church needs to grow.  What this church needs is  . . . more—more children, more youth, more young adults, more people, more money.  That’s what everybody says:  a church needs—to grow—in numbers.  But God invites us “come, grow with me in your faith; grow with me in your love for others; grow with me in your awareness of those who need me; grow with me in your commitment to one another.”  Relationship—will grow us—individually and as a community of faith.

            We don’t need a king like other nations have, for we have a sovereign God to whom we belong in life and in death. We are not like everybody else, for we are God’s treasured possession.  Nothing can separate us from the love of God through Jesus the Christ. 

            Knowing this, may we plant ourselves in the soil of God’s promise.  May we be watered by the rains of God’s love.  May we be tendrils—intertwined with others and supported by the latticework trellis of the Holy Spirit.  May we—the congregation who is 1^st Presbyterian Church, Paola, KS—be a healthy, fragrant, flowering, extending vine in the garden of God’s world.    Amen.

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[1] Exodus 19: 5 – 6

[2] Bruce C. Birch.  “The First and Second Books of Samuel,” in The New Interpreters’ Bible:  a Commentary in Twelve Volumes.  Vol. II.  Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 1998. p. 1030.

[3] Bruce C. Birch.  “The First and Second Books of Samuel,” in The New Interpreters’ Bible:  a Commentary in Twelve Volumes.  Vol. II.  Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 1998. p. 1030.

[4] Bruce C. Birch.  “The First and Second Books of Samuel,” in The New Interpreters’ Bible:  a Commentary in Twelve Volumes.  Vol. II.  Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 1998. p. 1030.

The Trinity, it’s a mystery—Romans 8: 9 – 17

            In one of my favorite movies, “Shakespeare in Love,” several characters in different situations say, “I don’t know.  It’s a mystery.” I find myself joining their refrain, today—Trinity Sunday.  Did you realize today is Trinity Sunday? It’s written on the front of the bulletin, posted on the sign outside, and there are several clues planted in our worship service.  On Trinity Sunday, especially, we may wonder “What is the Trinity? What exactly does it mean?”  And I am tempted to reply.  “I don’t’ know.  It’s a mystery.”  The Trinity is a mystery—a holy mystery—for the Trinity is God.  And we humans can never completely understand or explain God. 

            But there are some things we know for certain about God—the Three-in-One.  Although the song we sang earlier says, “God, in 3 person, blessed Trinity,” God is not 3 people.  “Persons” is the English translation for a Greek term used 2000 years ago—a term from a philosophy about the world that we 21^st century Americans don’t share. 

            We know that although 2 of the 3 traditional terms for the members of the Trinity—Father, Son, & Holy Spirit—Father and Son—are masculine, God is not male.  In the patriarchal culture in which our faith was birthed and nurtured, God the powerful creator, protector, and preserver, whose presence and work is over us was referred to as Father.  But Isaiah uses the image of a nursing mother who will not forsake her hungry infant to refer to God the parent.  And Jesus likens God to a mother hen, gathering her chicks under her wing.  The 1^st member of the Trinity is not male, and we don’t have to use masculine images or pronouns to refer to God, the One who is above us.

            Introducing Jesus, the Son, the gospel writer John speaks of the “Word” that was God and was with God in the beginning. We don’t have to use masculine images or pronouns to refer to God the One who is with us and for us.

            When the early church spoke of the “Spirit” they used a word that is masculine in Latin—the language of ancient church theology, feminine in Hebrew—the language of the Old Testament, and neuter in Greek—the language of the New Testament.  The 3^rd member in the Trinity is not male and we do not have to use male pronouns or language to describe God, the one who is among us and in us.[1]  

            The Trinity is a mystery but we do know that God is relational.  The early Christians spoke of God who created the world, who has sovereign power over all that is as God the Father.  They could have used a term of political or military power, but instead they used a relational term—father.  In a patriarchal society, the father did indeed have all power over the members of the household—but the father is also one who shows love and compassion for those in his household. Jesus referred to himself as the Son of God—yet another relational term.  In a patriarchal society, the son is the one who inherits what is the Father’s.  In today’s text Paul tells the church in Rome that we Christians are adopted into God’s family—another relational term.  We enjoy a familial relationship with God the Father—an intimate, tender relationship best characterized with the joyous cry, “Abba/ Daddy!” We share in the inheritance and the blessing bestowed on the beloved Son—our sibling.  It is his Spirit living in us and testifying through us that draws us into this family relationship with God. Now this family metaphor works for those of us who grew up in loving families.  But what if you don’t have good memories of healthy parent-child or sibling-sibling relationships?

            God is still relational.  When the early Christians spoke of God becoming human and living among us as Jesus, they referred to him as “the eternal ‘Word’ that was with God from the foundation of the world[2] suggesting an eternal and intimate relationship between Creator and Word.  The author of the 1^st creation story in Genesis tells us that God’s Spirit moved over the chaos that God was bringing order to and breathed life into the world God was creating—suggesting an eternal and intimate relationship between Creator and Spirit.  Creator, Word, and Spirit are a community of equals who share all that they are and have in their communion with each other.  Each lives with and for the others in mutual openness and in self-giving love and support for each other.[3] Each wills and does the same thing—seeking relationship with the humans God created—but in different ways.  God the powerful and just Ruler of the world creates us in the image of God so that we are drawn to God.  God the loving Reconciler and Savior bridges the chasms we create between us and God—chasms caused by our selfishness, our apathy, our refusal to love.  God the ever-present Renewer and Transformer of human life constantly moves in us and among us to draw us back to God.  They are one God with one will working in 3 different ways.[4]  Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Ruler, Reconciler, & Renewer; Creator, Redeemer, & Sustainer—each triplet of terms represents the same Three-In-One in joyful fellowship with one another—the same Three-In-One seeking fellowship with us.

            The most basic human need is the need to belong.  That is why people seek friendship. Created in the image of God—the relational Three-in-One—we are truly who and what we are created to be when we enjoy loving relationships with God and with one another. And that is what God, the Sustainer empowers us—the church—to offer: community, loving relationships formed within the context of our faith; community, loving relationships nurtured in our fellowship as we worship and study and serve the Three-in-One together.

            Fluid, not solid; dynamic, not static; equal, not hierarchical; an ensemble, not a lead with supporting cast, the Trinity reminds me of 3 dancers—holding hands, dancing together in harmonious, joyful freedom.   I remember standing in a Baskin Robbins Ice Cream store one hot summer afternoon trying to decide what flavor my one scoop would be when a young mother walked in with her 2 year-old daughter.  Up on her tippy toes, the little girl was beaming.  Her mom asked, “What kind of ice cream do you want?”  “I like ice cream,” she sang.  Her mom asked, “Do you want chocolate?”  “I like chocolate. I like chocolate.”  And she twirled around.  Do you want strawberry?”  “I like strawberry. I like strawberry.”  And she danced over to the ice cream case and back to her mom.  “Do you want something totally different?”  “I like different! I like different!” And she jumped and spun on her feet when she landed. 

            Ice cream—3 choices—and one child, dancing in joyful exhuberance—this is my Trinity image.  God, the mysterious Three-in-One, offering each of us a scoop of the delicious ice cream of life; God, the mysterious Three-in-One, reaching out to take the hand of each one of us and twirling us around as we join the dance of harmonious, joyful freedom to love.   How can it be?  I don’t know—It’s a mystery.

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[1] Guthrie, Shirley.  Christian Doctrine.  rev. ed.  Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 1994, p. 74.

[2] Guthrie, 73.

[3] Guthrie, 93.

[4] Guthrie, 88.

Pentecost Story—Acts 2: 1 – 21

            I could not forget that today is Pentecost Sunday, for I had reminders during the week.  On Wednesday afternoon walking with a strong wind at my back, I practically sailed into Wilma Plummer’s apartment complex.  Thursday morning, at home, reading and researching the background for today’s scripture, I heard the wind blowing through the cracks between the front door and the doorframe, and I watched as top branches from trees in my yard and at the Veterans’ Memorial across the street bowed in the wind.  This week the Kansas weather conspired to help me write a Pentecost sermon.

            I could not forget that today is Pentecost Sunday, for I had reminders during the week.  Friday afternoon, traveling from Olathe Medical Center home to Paola, I lost count of the number of red cars, pickup trucks, and vans I saw on the road.  Traveling in the opposite direction or passing me, red was flashing by me left and right.  Jason, they were passing me—I was within the speed limit.  Even the holiday traffic conspired to help me prepare a Pentecost sermon. 

            As I told our children earlier, part of our celebration of Pentecost is retelling the story.  A school librarian for 11 years, I hosted many authors and storytellers at Old Town Elementary.  One of my favorites—Joe Hayes, from Santa Fe, New Mexico—is a teller of Native American folktales.  In every story, sometimes at the beginning and sometimes at the end—but in every story, Joe says, “I don’t know if it happened exactly this way, but I do know it’s true.”  These words remind me that the stories of our faith tell us truths about God even if they did not “happen exactly this way.” 

            Whatever may have happened on that day of Pentecost, it was important for Luke—the author of Acts—to frame it within a physical, sensory encounter.  On the day of Pentecost, Jesus’ followers did not experience the Holy Spirit in a dream or meditative state.  Nor did they experience the Holy Spirit intellectually—by reading or through academic study.  On the day of Pentecost, they experienced the Holy Spirit physically.  Hearing a loud rushing sound and seeing something totally unexpected, they were startled—startled out of their inward focus of missing Jesus and waiting.  They were startled—startled into speech and action. Enthusiastically talking, they left the closed room and went out into the city of Jerusalem.  So, the 1^st miracle of Pentecost is the Holy Spirit blowing Jesus’ disciples out of their house where things were safe and comfortable and into the world where there are risks.            

            Hearing a loud rushing sound and seeing something totally unexpected—Luke uses the image of flaming tongues alighting on each person—Jesus’ followers were startled—startled into impassioned speech and bold action. The 2^nd miracle of Pentecost is the Holy Spirit empowering Jesus’ disciples to boldly proclaim the good news. 

            Whatever happened that day of Pentecost, the many pious Jews from every nation under heaven who heard and saw the commotion understood what was being said.  Luke presents their comprehension from 2 perspectives—native language and language of faith.  1^st the passersby are drawn into conversations with Jesus’ followers perhaps because they understand the vernacular spoken or the references made.   Then again, perhaps the native language the listeners hear and comprehend is the language of hospitality, of patience, and compassion.  As Peter stands and addresses the crowd, the many pious Jews from every nation under heaven understand his testimony because he frames what they are seeing and hearing in the context of shared religious writing.  In other words, the crowd knew their Bible—their faith stories—and Peter connects what is happening among them to a familiar prophecy.  Reading to the end of Acts, chapter 2, we are reminded of the rest of the Pentecost story.  Many of the people gathered there receive and believe the good news of God’s love, and they choose to join Jesus’ followers.  The 3^rd miracle of Pentecost is that the people hear and receive the good news. 

            Whatever happened that day, Luke chooses to use the Greek word for spirit that conjures images of both wind and breath.  Luke chooses to use the Greek word which reminds his readers of the 1^st creation story in Genesis where God’s spirit breathes life into the world as God is creating the heavens and the earth.  In the Pentecost story, the Holy Spirit makes dynamic this previously static group of Jesus’ followers.  The Holy Spirit breathes life into their community of faith.  The 4^th miracle of Pentecost is the birth of the church. 

            Whatever happened that day, Luke uses the image of fire to describe the experience. Dispelling both darkness and cold, fire is a powerful metaphor connecting the light of Christ and the warmth of God’s love to the gift of the Holy Spirit.

            Whatever happened that day, Luke describes the Holy Spirit as a universal gift.  Men and women, those who had been with Jesus throughout his ministry as well as those who had joined the group in the last few months—each of Jesus’ followers receive the Holy Spirit.  Addressing the crowd and recalling Joel’s prophecy, Peter suggests the Spirit is even more inclusive. God’s spirit will be poured out on men and women; young and old; slave and free.  The list expands, for as his disciples carry the good news of Jesus into the world, they will see both Jew and Gentile filled with the Holy Spirit.  I would suggest the list expands even more . . . the Holy Spirit is poured out on those who are married as well as those who are divorced or widowed; on those who are living in a committed, loving relationship as well as those who are single.  Hmmm, KU, Mizzou, KState, and even UT fans can receive the Holy Spirit.  Like God’s love and the grace of Jesus, the Holy Spirit is non-discriminatory.

            Speaking of fans, earlier this year, a few of you told me about attending basketball games in the KU fieldhouse.  You said the sound inside is deafening.  When you go to a game there, you don’t expect to sit, but to stand and not to stand still.  You said you may lose your voice or have a sore throat afterwards—from chanting the cheers, I hope and not from yelling at the players, coaches, or referees.  What you described to me is what I call “getting all fired up.” Whatever happened on that day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit “fired up” Jesus’ followers.  The ultimate result was the spread of the good news of God’s amazing love as experienced through the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.  On that day of Pentecost, Jesus’ followers became “all fired up.”  The ultimate result was the spread of the good news from Jerusalem, into Judea, and out into the far reaches of the known world.

            Today, Pentecost Sunday, we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit—the one who turns us—the church—changing our inward focus to a view of the world beyond ourselves and our desires.  Today, we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit—the one who lights a fire under us—filling us with impassioned speech and moving us into bold action.  Today we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit—the one who fans the coals of love in our hearts to respond to the needs of the world.  Today we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit—the one who helps us to understand God’s Word, to discern God’s call, and to respond faithfully.  Today, we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit—the one who breathes new life into our church. May we open our sails, and receiving this gift, allow the Holy Spirit to blows us where God wants us to go.