Let Her Fly
by Frank R. Fisher, Obl OSB

For me,
this is a time
 filled
 with ambivalence.
It's time
of thanksgiving
for the coming of Spring
and being surrounded by greenery.
That thanksgiving
is tempered
with the coming of summer heat.
It's tempered even more
by the knowledge
I will soon be leaving
a congregation
who's people
I have come to love.

But I think
my ambivalence
fits perfectly with today.
For in our celebration
 of Pentecost
we remember a day
that makes Presbyterians feel
very
ambivalent.
On one hand
we know
the birthday of Christ's church
is a day of great joy.
On the other hand
we sometimes can't help
but wish
God could have been
a little more proper
 about the whole affair.
If God had asked
 our advice
about how to begin
the church
we'd have described
 the correct committee procedures
and coupled them
with a few nifty
parliamentary maneuvers.
That would've
taken care of the whole thing
decently
and in good order.
To our great chagrin
God didn't do that.
Instead
the Holy Spirit
bypassed Robert's Rules of Order
and gave birth to the church
in a blast of wind
and tongues of fire.

I think
 there's yet another reason
why
 we shy away
from Pentecost.
There's something
deep down inside us
insisting God
should be up there
and not down here
in our midst.
After all
the physical presence
of God among us
would be a fearsome thing.

In his book,
Mountain Memories One,
Granville Deitz tells about
the apparent manifestation
of God
among the people
of West Virginia.
The manifestation occurred
during an evangelist's tent meeting.
"The tent
was quite large,"
Granville wrote,
"and the evangelist
was quite a spellbinder
who attracted sizeable crowds.
He would invite people
to come to the communion table
whereupon
he would proceed
to ask
'Jesus to come down'
right then
and there.
He seemed
to be asking Jesus
to appear physically
 instead of spiritually.
There happened to be
a local school teacher
in attendance
who had
a little larceny
in his veins.
Wondering
what would happen
if Jesus
physically appeared,
he arranged for an answer.
So on a later night
when the evangelist
was making
his customary request
for Jesus to come,
suddenly
there appeared in the door
of the tent
a small white mule
ridden
by a figure
clothed in white.
Pandemonium broke loose
as the congregation
tore the sides
out of the tent
in their haste to flee,
with the itinerant
evangelist
well in the forefront
of his
closest competitors."

We might laugh
about the way
the people
in the story reacted.
But can you imagine
how we'd react
if the first Pentecost
was recreated
right here
in our midst?
What would we do
if the doors
and windows
suddenly flew open,
allowing
a hurricane force wind
to swirl
through this sanctuary?
And what would we do
if that wind
took these gentle
candle flames
and transformed them
into raging
tongues of flame
reaching down
toward our heads?

I'd venture to guess
this building
would suddenly become
handicapped accessible
in many new ways
as each of us
found very imaginative
exits
from the building.

But we really don't expect
to see wind and flame
 here today.
In fact,
if we were transported
back in time
to the first Pentecost
many of us
wouldn't expect
to see wind and flame
there either.
Our Presbyterian dislike
of anything
 as messy as Pentecost,
combines with our fear,
and our modern mind set's
denial of anything
looking miraculous
to make us think
the Pentecost story
is nothing more
than a nice myth.

But it took
more then a myth
to change a group of fearful
women and men
into brave witnesses
for Christ.
It was more than a myth
that made them
burst out
from the doors of the room
where they were safely hidden
to tell the good news
to all of Jerusalem.
It was more than a myth
that lit a flame
in their hearts
that burned brightly
in the face
of certain persecution
and martyrdom.
And it was more
than a myth
that has called Christians
to follow
the way of the cross
for the last
two thousand years.

Despite
some of our deepest wishes,
Pentecost
is still more
than a myth today.
For it's more than a myth
that bursts
into the rooms
we build around ourselves
 to hide from God
and from God's people.
It's more than a myth
that someday
will touch every one of us
and call us
to stop crawling
through life
and begin to soar
on the Spirit's
whirlwind of flame.

The room
where the disciples gathered
on the first Pentecost
was probably
a pretty good
hiding place.
Most likely
it was in a place
off the beaten path
where the authorities
couldn't find them.
Until the Spirit's intervention
it was a good place
to escape
the physical price
of being
a disciple of Christ.

Up until about sixteen years ago
I had
a pretty good hiding place.
I think
it was even better
than the one
where disciples
gathered at Pentecost.

I'd just been
promoted at work,
and I'd just been
ordained an Elder.
I had
 important things to do
and those
important things
became all
 that mattered to me.
I built them
into a room
 keeping me safely occupied
and away from things
that would distress me;
things like God
and the pain
of God's people.
I thought
I'd built those walls
pretty carefully.
It took the Spirit
about two minutes
to demolish them.

It was Sunday morning.
I was sitting in
what we jokingly called
the Fisher family pew,
the exact same place
 where we sat
 each Sunday
I looked like
I was paying attention
to the service.
Actually
what I was doing
was planning my work week
and figuring out
who I could hire
to clean
the church's boiler.

We stood up to sing
the last hymn
 of the day
and I noticed
it was a new one.
Something
about the music
of the hymn called
"Here I Am,
 Lord."
caught my attention.
Then something
 about the words
burned into my heart.
The refrain asked,
"Is it I Lord?"
Somehow I knew
in the depths
 of my being
the answer was,
 "yes."

The service ended,
and I began to run.
I continued to run
 for about fourteen months.
But for me,
it was Pentecost.
After all my years
on the fire department,
 I should have known
I couldn't run faster
than
 a flame filled wind.

I'm sure some of you
have had
similar encounters.
If you haven't,
don't worry.
In some form or another,
you will!
Each of us
pledged to Christ
in words and water
will have a time,
or perhaps many times,
when we'll somehow feel
the rush of wind
and the hear
the roar of flame
calling us
to go and do
our Master's work.

Those moments of call also happen
to congregations,
Often they're signaled
by individuals
making significant faith journeys
and publicly making
statements of faith
as Amy is today.

During this interim time
there are others here
who have stepped forward
to declare their faith.
There are others
who have already declared
their faith
who have started
to catch a vision
of the vibrant place
this congregation
can become.
Still others
have begun to reach out
from our walls
to share God's love
with God's people.
And in the midst
of new life blooming
it seems likely
that your new pastor
will soon appear.

I don't think
this timing
is an accident.
Is it possible
what we hear and see
are really the sounds and sights
heralding
our own Pentecost?
Perhaps
what we're really
hearing
is the noise and light
of the Spirit's
wind and flame
beginning to sweep
through
First Presbyterian Church.

What could happen
if we
were to acknowledge
this possibility,
and name this
a moment of call?
What might happen
if we as a church
were to really mean it
when we call today
for God's Spirit
to inhabit us
and to show us
the path
God wants us
to walk together?

I think
it would  mean
a lot of things.
It would mean
meetings
where the discussion
left
matters of normal
day to day
operation
and moved to the question,
"what's God's will for us
and what do we
need to do
to accomplish it."
It  would mean rooms
filled with people
studying and praying.
It would mean
our walls
would become porous
as we go out
through them
in mission
to God's people.
And it might mean
 these pews
would be filled with people,
both young and old,
who would go out
 and tell others
"there's something wonderful
happening here.
Come,
and see!!"

Of course
there's a little more
involved
in that kind of transformation
than just
invoking the Spirit.
King Duncan
tells  the story of
an enthusiastic minister
who was exhorting
his congregation
to become more active
in church affairs,
 and to get the church
on its feet.

"Brothers and sisters,"
he proclaimed.
"What this church
needs
is the energy
to get up
and walk."
One of the Elder's
called out,
"Let her walk,
brother,
let her walk!"

The preacher
raised his voice
a little
and added,
"But we cannot
be satisfied
with walking,
we've got
to pick up speed
and run."
The same Elder
 chimed in
"Let her run,
brother,
 let her run!"

The preacher
was really
getting into
his message now.
"But running's
not enough
either.
One of these days
this church
has got
to fly!"

That same Elder
jumped to his feet
and echoed,
"Let her fly,
brother,
let her fly!"

The preacher
paused for a moment
and said
solemnly,
"But if this church
is going to fly
we're all
going to have to work
harder
and give
 more money!"

The Eler
slumped back into the pew
and said softly,
"Let her walk,
brother,
let her walk."

My sisters and brothers
there's a choice
here before us.
It's a choice
I ask you to consider
as we continue
our worship
here today.

Will we attempt
to remain safe
and eventually
dwindle away,
or will we dare
to seek the path
God wants us
to walk?

Will we shrink
 from the
Spirit's flame
and fear it's burning,
or will we jump
into the fire
and let it
refine us?

Will we walk,
or will we fly?

In the days
before I leave you
and the days
after I am gone
there's a prayer
summing up
all my hopes and dreams
for this congregation.

Come Holy Spirit!
Claim this
your church.
Inhabit her
with a constant
 rush of wind
and an ever present
 roar of flame.
May her
daughters and sons
prophesy.
May her men and women
see your visions
and dream
your dreams.
Work through her people
wonders
reaching out to all
who live in this community.
Light such a flame
in your children
who worship here
that all who pass
this place
will kneel
in awe
at your presence.

Fill this church
with your Spirit
 Lord.

Let her fly!

To God alone be glory.
Amen.

(Comments to Frank at F.Fisher.Obl.OSB@COMCAST.NET.)

Interim Pastor
First Presbyterian Church of Bushnell, Illinois