Why
fire?
When
the Spirit falls at that first Pentecost, the disciples are crowned with
tongues of fire. Burning flames that don’t burn. There’s no sizzling of hair
here, no scorching of flesh, no howls of pain. Just an experience of wonder
that’s at one and the same time profoundly individual and deeply communal.
But
why fire?
Christians
tend to forget that Jews were observing Pentecost long before the Spirit came. The
Old Testament feast of Pentecost was observed 50 days after Passover as a
harvest festival, but also as a celebration of the giving of the law to Moses
on Sinai. A time when God descended on the whole mountain wrapped in smoke and
– Fire.
Maybe
the tongues of flame are a reminder of a Holy God who descends and draws near to
bring us blessings. Or maybe they’re
meant to say something about the nature of that God.
What
is God like? What is fire like? Frederick Buechner offers us this by way of
reflection:
Fire has no shape or substance.
You can't taste it or smell it or hear it. You can't touch it except at great
risk. You can't weigh it or measure it or examine it with instruments. You
can never grasp it in its fullness because it never stands still. Yet there is
no mistaking its extraordinary power.
The fire that sweeps through miles of forest like a terrible wind and
the flickering candle that lights the old woman's way to bed. The burning logs
on the subzero night that save the pipes from freezing and give summer dreams
to the tabby dozing on the hearth. Even from millions of miles away, the
conflagration of the sun that can turn green earth into desert and strike blind
any who fail to lower their gaze before it. The power of fire to devastate and
consume utterly. The power of fire to purify by leaving nothing in its wake but
a scattering of ash that the wind blows away like mist.
A pillar of fire was what led the children of Israel through the
wilderness, and it was from a burning bush that God first spoke to Moses. There
were tongues of fire leaping up from the disciples on the day of Pentecost. In
John's apocalypse it is a lake of fire that the damned are cast into, and the
one called Faithful and True, he says, has eyes of fire as he sits astride his
white horse.
In the pages of Scripture, fire
is holiness, and perhaps never more hauntingly than in the little charcoal fire
that Jesus of Nazareth, newly risen from the dead, kindles for cooking his
friends' breakfast on the beach at daybreak.
Fire
– powerful, moving, homely, wonderful, terrible. This is our God. This is his
Spirit.
Talk
2 – The Personal Spirit
Fire,
wind, breath. All these metaphors for
the Spirit serve us well, but they’re all incomplete because they lack one key
ingredient and that’s the element of personality.
Many
people, especially in charismatic churches, speak of God's Spirit as a force,
or a power – and understandably so. How can you ‘pour out’ a person or be
filled with a person. That’s how Scripture speaks of the Spirit, yet it’s also
equally clear that the Spirit is personal.
If
you scan through the Bible you'll discover that God's Spirit can be grieved and
resisted, and He can speak, think, teach, testify, forbid, search out secrets
and intercede on our behalf. That doesn’t sound like an impersonal force to me.
When
we dig a little deeper, discover that this Spirit’s involved in divine work,
like creation, resurrection and sanctification.
He's
described as all-powerful and eternal. And Paul, in the First letter to the
Corinthians, tells us that the Spirit knows and understands the deep things of
God:
For who among men
knows the thoughts of a man except the man's spirit within him? In the same way
no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God.
So
in the same way as you and I have a Spirit, it seems that God has a Spirit, and
that Spirit, like the Father and the Son, is fully divine.
So
with that kind of evidence, it's hard to escape the conclusion that Holy
Spirit, rather than being an impersonal force, is a personal divine being,
co-equal with the Father and the Son.
And
that takes us into Trinitarian territory – but we’ll leave that mystery for
another day.
So
fire, breath, wind – all good metaphors. But never forget that the Spirit is a
person, with will, intent and character of his own – not a force to be sent
this way and that at either God’s or our bidding.
And
one last thing on personhood.
All
along I’ve spoken of the Spirit as ‘him’. But is the Spirit a ‘him’? If you
look at the Greek, the word for Spirit – pneuma - is actually neuter, so by
rights I should be calling the Spirit ‘it’, but when you do that in English you
tend to turn the object into a thing rather than a person.
We
need to remember that when we talk about God, all our gendered language is
metaphorical. When we use male pronouns about God, we’re not saying that God is
somehow male. That’s a category error like asking what colour accountancy is or
how fast the letter ‘h’ can swim. It doesn’t make sense. Gender is a property
of limited, embodied creatures not the infinite divine spirit. God is beyond
gender. Genesis teaches that both male and female are made in God’s image, so
by definition, both genders must reflect aspects of who God is. God isn’t bound
to either maleness or femaleness. Those terms don’t really apply.
But
given that the second person of the trinity was incarnate in a male form, as
Jesus – and that we’ve been taught from the cradle to refer to God in male
terms, as Father, theologians and hymn writers for many years, but especially
more recently, have started speaking of the spirit in feminine terms to try and
redress the balance a little.
In
her hymn “Enemy of Apathy” Kathy
Galloway writes “For she is the Spirit, one with God in essence, gifted by the
saviour in eternal love; and she is the key, opening the scriptures, enemy of
apathy and heavenly dove.”
Despite
the fact that the work of the Spirit is often nurture, guidance, counsel,
birthing new things, some of you might find that feminine language strange. I
want to reassure you that it’s not heretical! It’s fine. Don’t get hung up about
gendered language. But never mistake the Spirit for a thing. He/she/it is
personal.
Talk
3 - The Empowering Spirit
So
with a fiery outpouring, God’s Spirit descends in person and comes to rest on
the disciples.
But
how do we know that it ever happened?
Because
we tend to believe the Bible, I guess. But also because the evidence for the
change in the disciples is one of the strongest pieces of evidence that the
Resurrection really happened and the Spirit really came.
These
men go from cowering behind doors to preaching to thousands in a matter of
days. From leaving Jesus in the lurch to going to their own crosses for the
sake of his name. This is not normal. What we are seeing in the disciples is
the transforming work of the Spirit at its most exceptional.
So
what is this gift of the Spirit? What does the Spirit bring them?
Well,
we part of it, I guess, is enthusiasm and energy. And Lord knows we need as
much of that as we can get!
That
very word, enthusiasm, comes from the Greek – en theos – in God. When people
are genuinely in God there’s a lightness about their Spirits, a hope, a joy.
There’s a movement to their living; there’s a sense of quiet purpose. An
optimism that’s founded in who God is, not how things are.
Even
as I wrote those words, I thought ‘Lord, I want to be more like that’! This is
the kind of person I want to be.
Gloom,
pessimism, weariness – they can become our norm, if we let them. It takes an
encounter with an enthusiast to shake us out of them. Someone who doesn’t deny
the challenges in life, or pretend them away, but has the vision to see through
them and beyond them to where God is already working to bring life and hope.
What
did the Spirit bring? Enthusiasm. Energy. And also Power. Wherever the
disciples went after this, things happened. Provocative things, disturbing
things, amazing things, good things. People noticed what they were doing. Some
responded in faith, others threw rocks at them or clapped them in irons. But
they were rarely if ever ignored.
The
influential author and pastor AW Tozer once said:
“If the Holy Spirit was
withdrawn from the church today, 95 percent of what we do would go on and no
one would know the difference. If the Holy Spirit had been withdrawn from the
New Testament church, 95 percent of what they did would stop, and everybody
would know the difference.”
That’s
an observation worth pondering. If the Spirit upped and left our church today,
would things just roll on as usual?
Are
we working out of our own power to our own ends, or are we working out of God’s
power to God’s ends
Let
me say one more thing as I end this little chunk of the sermon.
There
are churches around the world who read this story in Acts and come to the
conclusion that if we’re filled with the Spirit, then speaking in tongues,
miracles and healings and so on will follow – as they did for the apostles.
Now
God must be God in the church, and it’s up to God how and when he blesses his
people with supernatural gifts. But I think it’d be a mistake to assume that
what we’re seeing here in Acts 2 is a norm that we should all be aspiring to.
The
Spirit, it seems respects context. The Spirit gives us the gifts we need in the
moment to be about the work God would have us do.
What’s
happening in Jerusalem at Pentecost? Thousands of Jews from across the world
have gathered for the celebration. Dozens of languages are spoken by the
visitors to the city.
What
does the Spirit do? The Spirit blesses the apostles with the gift of language.
Not the babbling prayer language we call speaking in tongues – actual
understandable languages. That was what was needed. That’s what the Spirit
gave, so the word could go out to the assembled crowds in ways they would
understand.
What
do we need from the Spirit in our time, so the words we speak and the way we choose
to live reach our generation with the good news?
Faith?
Courage? Innovation? Generosity? Hospitality?
Let’s
bring it even closer to home. What gift do you need from the Spirit to reach
the people God’s placed you with?
Talk 4 - The Here and Now Spirit
Provocative
words from Barbara Brown Taylor to end with, reflecting on today’s story from
Acts.
The question for me
is whether we still believe in a God who acts like that. Do we still believe in
a God who blows through closed doors and sets our heads on fire? Do we still
believe in a God with the power to transform us, both as individuals and as a
people, or have we come to an unspoken agreement that our God is pretty old and
tired by now; someone to whom we may address our prayer requests but not anyone
we really expect to change our lives.
There’s
a lot of fine teaching and writing out there on the Holy Spirit. And I hope
that none of it satisfies you.
I
hope that you’re not satisfied until you’ve felt the Holy Spirit blow through
your own life, and maybe even set your own head on fire a little bit.
It
still happens.
Moments
of insight, strength, courage, prompting, conviction that can only come from
God.
As
I prepared for today I cast my mind back through my own back catalogue of those
kinds of experiences. Things I’ve shared with you in sermons over these ten
years – times when God’s spirit seemed to speak very clearly.
The
evening in September ’86 when I gave my life to Christ. Praying, after nearly
getting mugged on a train in Morocco. Sitting with my brother as he died of
cancer. Walking the labyrinth at the Bield in Perthshire.
And
even as I remembered those times, and others, the Spirit spoke wordlessly in my
heart once again. She said: “Paul, why do
so many of your stories of me come from the past? Are you missing me in the
present? Has it all become routine? Are your eyes open to the opportunities I’m
setting before you today? We need to make some new stories together, you and
I.”
Indeed
we do. We all do.
Let’s
go, in the power of the Spirit, and make them.
As
I prepared for today I cast my mind back through my own back catalogue of those
kinds of experiences. Things I’ve shared with you in sermons over these ten
years – times when God’s spirit seemed to speak very clearly.
The
evening in September ’86 when I gave my life to Christ. Praying, after nearly
getting mugged on a train in Morocco. Sitting with my brother as he died of
cancer. Walking the labyrinth at the Bield in Perthshire.
And
even as I remembered those times, and others, the Spirit spoke wordlessly in my
heart once again. She said: “Paul, why do
so many of your stories of me come from the past? Are you missing me in the
present? Has it all become routine? Are your eyes open to the opportunities I’m
setting before you today? We need to make some new stories together, you and
I.”
Indeed
we do. We all do.
Let’s
go, in the power of the Spirit, and make them.
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