A Sermon "Starter" for the Day of Pentecost, Year A
May 19, 2002
Lectionary Preaching Texts:
Psalm 104:24-34, 35b, *Acts 2:1-21, 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13,*John 7:37-39
(* Preaching text)
Rev. Justin K. Fisher
Trinity United Methodist Church - Ft. Wayne, Indiana
fishhook@iquest.net
http://www.trinityumc.cjb.net
Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind...
Then they saw what seemed to be tongues of fire....
All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues...
A few years ago, in Anderson, I had some awkward moments at the dentist. Now he's a fine, upstanding Seventh Day Adventist kind of dentist, and he treats me with care and compassion (my pain tolerance isn't very high....). A broken tooth had sent me back to see him, and one session's work was to prepare the tooth and me for a crown (and you thought I'd never see a "crown" this side of heaven!) Anyway, when he has my mouth fully occupied with his hands, the drill, the nurse's "stuff", after having numbed half of my face and drilled and ground away until there's nothing left there at all, he takes a break and asks me how to share how I came to be a minister! Why do dentists do this? Friends, there are moments when testimony is called for, but at this particular moment, I can honestly say I was "tongue-tied". Had I had "a story to tell to the nations", it would never have been heard nor understood in that setting. Sometimes the events of life tie us up and we cannot speak a clear word at all.
Most of the time, though, I find myself spinning out a lot of words that seem to say nothing at all. Ever notice that about me? Ever notice that about yourself? At times, we talk a lot but say very little of significance, and sometimes the little we do say is biting and cruel. I saw a sign on a church billboard out on St. Joe Road this week that read: "Sharp tongues often cut their own throats!" True! Perhaps the only thing worse would be to have a tongue but no voice at all. Ever get laryngitis? One Sunday this past winter, you heard (or didn't hear me), with a case of it. I also lost my voice once on Christmas Eve, and once on Easter. In both of those cases, the choir sang beautiful sermons. Our wonderful choir director, Jennifer Pearson, is currently traveling in Scandinavia with the Anderson University Choir. In the recent clashes between the people of Israel and Palestine, many children caught in the battle zones simply stopped talking at all. No sound would come out at all. Closer to home, we see people silenced by traumatic events that occur around us, and we are paralyzed, unable to move in response. All of us have known people (some very close to us) who have been so disappointed or disgusted or disheartened by an event in their family or personal life that they simply refuse to speak of what happened, ever again. Their mouths are closed. They are speechless.
Interesting, then, isn't it, how we use and abuse our voices? Sometimes we babble incoherently. Sometimes we are silenced. Sometimes we silence ourselves. Sometimes we are "tongue-tied", speechless; and, sometimes, perhaps not often enough, we speak clearly and confidently. It all depends upon what's going on about us and who's doing the talking, or, "Who's" doing the moving....
Luke tells us that on the Day of Pentecost, the Lord God was busy doing the moving, and the action around the disciples was getting pretty hot and heavy. Gathered together in one place, they hear a powerful sound, like the rush of a mighty wind, and it fills the house from top to bottom. And if that isn't enough, there appear to them tongues of fire, distributed and resting on each one of them. That alone would move me to cry out! But there's more! As they were filled with the Holy Spirit, Luke finishes; they began to "speak in tongues". No "tongue-tying" in this group! No longer speechless, they declare the wonders of God in their own tongue, a "patchwork quilt" of multi-cultural and multi-racial praise. A few years ago when we lived in Peru and I served as pastor of an international Protestant Church, we could count believers among us from 21 nations speaking 13 different languages. One Day of Pentecost we had nine readers reading verse after verse of the Pentecost story from Acts. The sounds were different, yet the presence of the Spirit among us was powerful and refreshing.
Wind and fire and witness are gifts of the Holy Spirit for the gathered community on the Day of Pentecost! Two thousand years from that first outpouring, we re-open these gifts on this Day of Pentecost. But where is the wind? And where is the fire? And who speaks out for God today? We look around us for symbols to point us onward, and we are not disappointed. The paraments and vestments have been turned from Eastertide's white to Pentecost's bright red. Our "Cross & Flame" stained glass window blazes forth the power of God's might. The Spirit light above the choir loft shines softly by day and by night. And what do our voices say? Last time I checked, there was not much "speaking in tongues" going on about us. We are a pretty quiet bunch here at Trinity. Not known for our Pentecostal fervor, we will never be accused of being "drunk" on the Spirit.
What then can we say about all of this? That the Spirit has passed us by? Can we say that the Day of Pentecost is no longer revenant to us, or we to it? That we are not Spirit-led and Spirit-blessed folk? By no means! We too speak of the wonders of God in our single tongue. And while the hum of wind this morning seems to come more from our quiet chatter before worship than by the forces of nature, God's spirit blows gently (and sometimes forcibly) among us. If we have no bonfire to light, there is a "warm heart" experience that permeates the soul of every believer here. And, prophetically, what we say is borne out in how we live. We are the Word made flesh in daily life. We too are Pentecost people, and the gifts of the Holy Spirit are given anew to all who would receive them.
Symbols are powerful signposts that point us onward to God, but by themselves, they are like a skeleton without the flesh. If we are indeed the "people of God for God's people", it is right to ask ourselves, "just how does the Spirit blow among us" at Trinity? How are the wind and the flame and the Word manifested in our journey of faith?
Peter stood up with the Eleven and addressed the bewildered crowd on that first day of Pentecost with these stirring words: "In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your young men will see visions; your old men will dream dreams. Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy. I will show wonders..." (Acts 2:17-19a) The Spirit is still pouring out His gifts among us at Trinity as we let him have the things "that hold us" and are willing to be held by him.
There is a beautiful hymn in our UM Hymnbook that is entitled "Spirit Song". Its first verse reads like this:
Let him fill your heart and satisfy your soul.
O let him have the things that hold you, and his Spirit like a dove
will descend upon your life and make you whole.
(SPIRIT SONG, Words by John Wimber, UM Hymnbook #347)
Wind? Yesterday there was a gentle spring breeze that welcomed us as a few of us joined the Trustees in a sharing in "Clean Up America" day here at church. We cleaned and hauled off trash, and puttered around the buildings all morning, brightening the corner where we live and our corner here in Bloomingdale. We cleaned, but in the process were cleaned up in our fellowship. The Sprit blew through us yesterday, and we are more whole today. Our workday yesterday reminded me of what Maxine and Bob Harter do for us on a regular basis. Last fall, before it got too cold, they repainted the church sign at the corner of Short and Huffman streets. They tidied the flowerbeds, and left the corner looking bright and pretty. How long did it last? Just one day before little Frankie bashed in the sign with his bicycle, on purpose, so the other kids say. Know what Bob & Maxine did? They got busy and repaired it, and then they set about repairing Frankie, not with anger, but with concern and love. Will their seeds take root? I don't know, but the sign is still up, the flowers are blooming again, and even Frankie looks a little less menacing as he rides by…. The fire is out of his eyes.
Fire? You want fire? Sometimes we are "baptized by fire. A year or so ago on the Saturday before he graduated from Purdue, one of my youth from St. Matthew Church, Kirk Watson, was first on the scene of a tragic traffic accident that claimed two lives. Immediately, without thinking, he administered CPR, hoping against hope that a pulse could be found and maintained until rescue workers arrived. I cannot help but think Kirk's presence there was a sign of the Spirit because, nurtured by his family of faith over the years, he acted "instinctively" to save life. I picture him as an "angel" in the flesh in that place for that time. He was "there", and so was the Spirit.
Words? Sometimes my words are chosen so poorly. I spend hours on a sermon, only to realize that some sermons are simply said. My Aunt Marjorie, who loved church potluck dinners, shared a sermon once at a senior citizen gathering. She retold the story of the woman who requested of her pastor that she be buried with a fork in her hand. "Why?" he had asked, and she replied, "Because at all the wonderful church potlucks we have enjoyed, we are always told to keep our forks as the dinner plates are being put away. I know then that the best is yet to come, be it an angel food cake, or chocolate brownies, or a "mile high" lemon meringue pie. The best is yet to come, pastor. At my funeral, when youintend old pass by me in the casket and see my Bible and my fork, they will surely ask you, 'what is the fork doing in there?' And you must tell them, "The best is yet to come!"
My aunt, who, by the way, jokingly said she wanted to be buried with a pot of soup beans, caught us off guard, as we all dipped our forks over the dessert that day. The best news of all is that the "best is yet to come" for those of us who know and love Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. A few words, carefully selected and shared, reap a bountiful harvest. The Spirit spoke in and through good cooks and good stories.
Those whose tongues are tied also speak the word. Let me tell you about Edna. She came to worship often at one of the churches I served, but if you had attended there, you would not have seen her. She lived in the group home down the street from the church, but getting more independent and self sufficient, she was moved to an independent living apartment about three miles from the church during the second year I was there. I would see her occasionally as she rode a three-wheel bike around town and caught the bus to the Red Lobster where she washed dishes five days a week. Normally, she ride to church on her bike and arrived about an hour before the first worship service. She would park herself in a pew, bow her head, and the stay for ten or fifteen minutes. The up she'd get, and out she'd go, back on the bike, back to the bus, back to the Red Lobster. The Spirit finally taught me to listen to Edna and catch her gifts, but I am not a quick learner. For several weeks I greeted her as she sat silently in the empty sanctuary, mindless to the fact that nobody else was there. I gently reminded her that service did not begin for another hour and that she could hear the sermon and choir then, but she just smiled at me. One Sunday she gently spoke back to me. "I didn't come to hear you speak," she said, "I came to talk to Jesus". When she's done talking, she leaves, prepared to serve as she washes those dishes. Simply, the Spirit speaks through her and dwells in her.
And sometimes the Spirit speaks out through us who speak more often. I am so proud of you in our congregation who stand up and "take a stand" for those less fortunate around us: for feeding the hungry in our food bank, for the "forgotten" children that play in our parking lot and help themselves to the candy jar, for those whose backs have been warmed by our quilts, and those whose spirits have been lifted by our visits. I applaud you parents who practice "tough love" when it isn't fun and our words, though loving, have to be short and to the point. I honor you seniors in our parish family who have the "patience of Job" to deal with those less mature in the faith, with a willing spirit that says, "I've been there, I know". I thank you teachers among us who teach under stressful circumstances, and those of you in our church who stand up against domestic violence in our town. I am humbled by those of you who judge lovingly the mistakes of sincere men and women in our community who have erred in judgment. In holding them accountable, you do not cast them aside. By speaking out, the Spirit empowers you and is with you.
Perhaps you will say that my examples of wind and fire and word are not nearly as powerful as those on that first Day of Pentecost so long ago. But who are we to judge the moving of the Spirit. All those who have aching muscles and bruised fingers this morning feel good that the Spirit moved them yesterday. Kirk may not have been a "Superman" as he came upon that accident scene, but his heart burned with compassion as he served. My aunt didn't plan to save the whole world with her witness. She only wanted to remind us that the best is always yet to be in Christ Jesus our Lord with a fork. Edna didn't want to hear me preach. She wanted to listen to God. Our Day of Pentecost is every day we open ourselves to the gifts of the Spirit (which, by the way, are not limited to the symbols of wind and fire and word). Whenever God's people gather together to declare his wonders and be his people, there his Spirit moves.
So, speak out! Fire up! Shine on! And remember, always keep your fork handy!