Acts 2:1-21
May 31, 2020
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
Power.
It’s been on my mind lately. Who has it? Who’s trying to get it? Who is unwilling to share it?
As we watch the patchwork-of-powers-that-be in our country negotiate who does what in the midst of a pandemic, it can be downright impossible to figure out who is calling the shots and what the current rules are. Governors and legislatures argue, courts overturn, recommendations change by the day. Armed groups march into state houses to argue about who should have power.
Even if you’re trying very hard to follow it all, you’re sometimes left scratching your head at the end of the day wondering, “Just who is in charge right now anyway? And who are we supposed to listen to? Who can we trust to steer us in the right direction?”
And then there’s the horrific reality of what happens when power struggles become violence.
When black men like George Floyd have their breath robbed from them by the police. When Christian Cooper goes for a walk in the park and a white woman wants to exert power over him and calls the police. When protesters are gassed and hit with rubber bullets.
We are left with a righteous anger and a deep aching lament, wondering, “When, O God, will we finally be free from the scourge of white supremacy? When will we live in peace?”
And so, on a week like this one, with all of this swirling in my mind, I am particularly grateful to be in worship with you this morning. Because worship is a time when we are able to bring all of the swirling questions and pain and exuberance of being human to God.
A time to pause and sink deep into our sacred texts and practices and refuel for life.
On Pentecost we remember the story of when Jesus’s followers were gathered together 50 days after that Passover when Jesus was executed.
We hear the story from the Book of Acts, which is the history book of the earliest followers of Jesus.
Acts begins with a promise that frames the rest of the book. In Acts 1:8, just before the Risen Christ ascends to the heavens, he says to his disciples, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses to Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
Chapter 2, which is where we are today is the beginning of the unfolding of that promise. You can bet that questions of power were heavy on the disciples’ minds. Their leader was killed just a couple months ago. This movement that had been moving was….what, now? “Who’s in charge? Who are we supposed to listen to now that Jesus is gone? What are the next steps? Who can we trust?”
Before he died, Jesus promised that he would not leave them alone like this.
He promised that God would send another advocate to be with them...to comfort and challenge, to nurture and sustain, to accompany and guide.
On the day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit makes a grand entrance in wind and flame. And then this incredibly diverse group of people begins to speak in many different languages and - strangely - they can all understand one another.
Fire and wind. These are powerful elements of nature. They have the ability to both bring and destroy life.
A warm hearth or campfire can make us feel cozy. Fire is beautiful. But also scary. A powerful fire that’s outside our control can remind us just how little control we really have.
The same is true with wind. We Kansans know that a strong wind has the power to destroy, of course. But wind can also nurture and soothe.
One of my favorite sounds in the world is the sounds of the leaves rustling in a cottonwood tree. And when you see the white puffs floating on the breeze, it’s easy to remember that wind can help spread life. When we harness the power of the wind we can even generate energy.
The word used here in Acts reminds us of that breath connection we have with God. When God breathed over the void in Genesis, it was the ruach, the breath, the spirit. My friend Joanna Harader, who pastors Peace Mennonite Church in Lawrence, reminded me this week that we’re all thinking about breath a lot these days. Covering our breath with masks, hoping we don’t share the virus if we’re unknowingly infected. Giving thanks if we are healthy - not taking a single breath for granted.
And, of course, worrying about those who aren’t breathing freely. Those who are affected by COVID, of course. And also those like George Floyd who have their breath stolen from them in acts of violence.
Rev. Harader notes that in the midst of all this thinking about breath these days, she is profoundly grateful that Pentecost is here. She writes:
As we read about the wind—the breath—of the Holy Spirit rushing through the earliest believers, we remember that God’s breath is the source of ours. As we read that they all began to speak in other languages, we remember that the purpose of our God-given breath is to connect us to each other—not to divide us.
As we read how Peter addressed the crowd to defend his community, we remember that our breath is not exclusively an agent of disease and death. Our God-given breath can also be used in life-giving ways: to speak truth, to offer hope, to work toward a world where everyone can breathe freely. [1]
A world where everyone can breathe freely. That’s the hope. That’s the dream. The vision, right? That’s what we get up each day and work towards.
And to pause on this day and remember that we don’t do that work alone is profoundly strengthening and comforting. We are filled with God’s breath. God’s ruach. God’s Spirit.
And the Holy Spirit is powerful. Wild and unruly. Unable to be contained. Beautiful to behold but also a unsettling. The Holy Spirit will not be tamed. We can’t see it or touch it or put it in a box. It exists like the wind rushing past or a flame flickering brightly. We sense its presence but cannot fully grasp it.
The gift of the Spirit is what allows this diverse group of people in Jerusalem to be gathered together and try to listen to each other. The Spirit’s movement is what enabled a small band of Jesus-followers to spread the good news of God’s peace and justice to Judea, and Samaria, and the ends of the earth. The Spirit is what sustains us now and in the future as we try to build a better world together.
And so, my friends, THIS Pentecost - as the questions power about who’s in charge swirl around us, as the fears and worries about breath besiege us - I am praying for a Holy Spirit revival.
And I don’t mean that in a casual way. I mean that I am, quite literally, getting on my knees each and every day, oftentimes praying through my tears, that we would FEEL the Spirit’s power as she blazes and blows within us.
That we would be empowered to be real and true followers of Jesus.
That we would find a way to rise above partisan politics and other-ing each other….finally repent from the sin of white supremacy and move towards healing for all people….that we could attune our hearts to God’s visions for peace and justice for all humans and all creation.
It sometimes feels as if we are drowning in chaos coming at us from every angle. We look for leadership and are left wondering, “Who’s in charge? Who is coming to fix this?”
And so, this Pentecost I am praying for a revival. And I invite you to pray with me.
Come, Holy Spirit, and fill our hearts with your love. Breathe upon us your deep abiding peace. Send us a sense of calm that convinces us we can withstand whatever storms may come. Give us the strength we need to make it through today...and then help us remember , O Spirit, that you’ve promised to do the same again tomorrow and the next day and the next.
Come, Holy Spirit, with a brilliant and crackling flame. Warm our hearts when they’ve been turned cold by cynicism and fear. Create safe spaces for us to dream dreams of new and better ways. Weave us together - people of every color, people from every conceivable background - weave us together and help us to listen to and understand one another. May our hearts be broken open to make space for your presence. May we seek to live in the ways of justice. May we take the time to grieve all of the pain and despair in our world….and then may we rise up to act. Set our hearts on fire, O Spirit, and bring about a revival of kindness, compassion, justice, and wisdom.
O God, sometimes it feels like everything around us is disintegrating. We feel out of control. Deliver your Spirit to us now, O God. Breathe calm into the cracks. Bring about renewal. For we know the stories, Holy One. We know that our story is that new life follows death. Just as green, spring grass follows the burning on the prairie. And so we trust in those stories, God. Bring about newness in the midst of despair, O God.
We know you’ve done it before. And we hope and pray and - dare we say it? - trust that you will do it again.
May it be so.
Amen.
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