“Sustainer”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Acts 2:1-12

June 8, 2025 - Pentecost

Confession: if one is allowed to have a favorite person of the Trinity, mine in the Holy Spirit. It’s the representation of God that’s the least person-like and that’s always felt like it made sense to me. The Spirit feels mysterious, mystical, always-present, even though I can’t necessarily see it. A little quirky, surprising, and hard to make sense of. Feels right to me. 

And so, I’ve always loved Pentecost – the day when the Holy Spirit makes her grant debut. I love the wild and wonderful story of the early followers of Jesus speaking in tongues. And I almost always giggle at that line in the story about the folks not being drunk because it was too early in the morning. 

Like any holiday, some years it comes and you feel like partying. Other years, not so much. These past six months, I’ve listened to so many people confess that they don’t feel much like partying these days. People are experiencing such grief and disillusionment in the current political (and actual) climate. It can be hard to let loose and celebrate when you’re worried sick. And then I’ve also talked to people who have somewhat-sheepishly told me they are experiencing moments of great joy in the midst of all the chaos and destruction. And they feel guilty about that. To which I say: never feel guilty about joy. It is one of the great gifts of being human. Joy in a time of despair is defiant resistance. There’s nothing wrong with feeling joy even in the midst of horror. It means you’re still human, and that’s a very good thing. 

One of the most challenging things about preaching is knowing that every single time we preachers step into a pulpit, it’s not possible for us to speak a word that will meet everyone’s needs. Because some folks are coming in on a high – they feel good! They want to laugh and party and have a great time! And sitting right next to them in the pew is someone else who is in the depths of despair and needs silence, or a place to cry. This is why I’ve always said that if there’s something in worship that falls flat with you or that you don’t like – music, a prayer, the whole sermon – that’s a good thing. Because that probably means someone else in the congregation is getting their needs met in that moment. Worship is like any other communal act – parts of it will resonate for you and parts of it won’t. That’s the nature of living in community. 

In general, the dominant U.S. culture is more affirming of celebration than mourning. We love a good party. We’re not quite as sure how to handle grief. The Church has an important role to play in holding space for pain, for tears, for hopelessness, for exhaustion. And the Spirit can help us as we acknowledge the brokenness present in our world and, instead of trying to immediately jump up and fix it, just sit with it and name it. 

The Church has to be a place for both, I think. A place to sing and party and have fun AND a place to grieve and worry and feel down. Like many of our holy days, this day – Pentecost – has room for all of it. 

Let’s look at the actual text for a minute. Despite the party-like atmosphere of Pentecost in many contemporary churches, it’s not as if all the followers of Jesus were gathered for a party. So far in the book of Acts, two things have happened. First, Jesus has left the building. After popping in and out for forty days after his execution and resurrection, he has finally ascended into heaven, leaving the disciples with the heavy lifting in his absence. When they take a moment to gaze up at the sky, likely feeling shocked, bereft, and shaky, two heavenly beings command them to stop lollygagging around. Second, the disciples have taken care of a piece of administrative business. Judas, the one who betrayed Jesus, has died in a freak accident and the disciples need to elect someone to replace him.

Immediately after Matthias is selected to join the group, we learn that the day of Pentecost has come and that they were all together in one place in Jerusalem. Out of nowhere, a rush of a violent wind comes and fills the home where they are sitting. The Greek gets pretty funky here and it seems to be impossible for the author of Acts to convey what exactly took place, but somehow everyone present is filled with the Holy Spirit and begins to speak in various languages. As the roar of their voices grows louder and louder, their neighbors notice. Jews from all over the world gather at the house because they are surprised to hear their own languages being spoken. They are astounded and scoff at the followers of Jesus, supposing them to be filled with new wine.

But they aren’t filled with new wine at all. This isn’t a party atmosphere. What we have here is a group of grieving, lost people. They have lost their friend and leader. They are left behind, quite literally, and trying to figure out what to do next. You could describe them as empty, despairing, bewildered. 

And then, suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, the Holy Spirit shows up. And just like that, they are filled. The house is filled with a rush of wind. The disciples are filled with the Spirit. They are filled to overflowing and, finally, Peter can no longer contain himself. He raises his voice and speaks out, asserting that this gift of the Spirit has been poured out upon them so that they can see visions, dream dreams, and prophesy. Peter believed that this is a sign that the Lord’s great and glorious day is coming soon and that all who have need will be made whole.

In spite of their emptiness, fear, uncertainty, and grief the disciples are visited by the Holy Spirit. In fact, I think it may be because of their fear, uncertainty, and grief that they are especially good candidates for being filled with the Spirit and called forth into a new way of being.

In his letter to the Galatians, Paul writes that the fruits of the Spirit are love, peace, forbearance, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These things may all be true, but the Holy Spirit is a multifaceted old girl and I tend to think that in this particular passage she shows up as the Sustainer.

When we’ve hit rock bottom and we’re not sure how to get back up, the Holy Spirit is there propping us up so we can continue to stand. When the phone call comes and the voice on the other end has bad news, the Holy Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. When depression sets in; when the argument with someone we love feels too big to heal; when we have no idea where this world is headed; when violence and hatred is so loud….the Holy Spirit is there, quietly and mightily sustaining us.

Pentecost is the advent of the Spirit in our midst. And Pentecost is not a one-time event. It happens several times in the Book of Acts alone. Just remember Philip’s baptism of the man from Ethiopia; or Paul’s experience on the road to Damascus; or Peter’s encounter with Cornelius that we read a few weeks ago, when he discovered God had much wider plans for the followers of Christ than anyone had previously imagined.

In each of these stories, the Spirit comes to places of great emptiness and longing and fear and rushes in like a mighty wind. The Spirit is a not a “fixer” – wielding her power to deftly wipe away all problems. The Spirit’s method is, at once, wild and gentle, somehow managing to fill up our empty places while still honoring our pain. Spirit says to us, “I can see how hard this is for you right now. I won’t leave you. I’m right here with you, and together we will find a way to move forward.” 

In the Pentecost story in Acts 2 the Holy Spirit does an astounding thing. It comes to this despairing group of people, who are totally caught up in their own grief and loss. And instead of ignoring their grief or throwing a party, the Spirit moves within them and opens them up to the wide world around them. The Spirit gives them words that the world needs to hear. The Spirit brings a new community to them and enables them to converse freely with people who had previously been strangers. In short, the Holy Spirit enables them to meet their neighbors right where they are and speak a word of Good News to them.

This is astounding! These people, who have lost so much, are the ones called upon and equipped to share the Gospel with strangers. They are called out of themselves into a place of deep unity with the world around them. 

And this is what the Church still needs. If the Church is to continue to do what Jesus charged us with in the beginning of Acts – to be his witnesses to the ends of the Earth – then we need the Holy Spirit to sustain us, fill us, equip us, and embolden us to be bearers of Love to our neighbors. Not in spite of our grief and fear but because of it. 

In times of joy and – perhaps most especially – in times of deepest despair, the Spirit comes to sustain us. This is the Gospel of Pentecost. Thanks be to God.