You've all, no doubt seen people
signing in the languages that have been invented for hearing-impaired people in
order to allow them to better communicate in society. But I wonder if you know
what the sign is for "Methodist"?
It's this--hold your hands with
palms together in an attitude of prayer. Then rub them together in an up and
down motion. Try it.
What happens? If you do that very
long, your palms will very quickly get warm from friction. That's part of the
point of that particular sign. The sign
itself, as well as the warmth you feel when you sign it, symbolizes the warmth
felt within the heart spoken of by John Wesley, and the fire in the lives of
his early Methodist followers.
Unfortunately, it feels like we've
come a long way from that warmth, that fire, that pure excitement in the
Spirit. There are some United Methodist congregations--this one included I
know--where many of the worshippers have warm, affectionate feelings toward one
another. There are no doubt worshippers seated in these very pews this morning
who feel God's warm, comforting presence in their interior lives.
But the sad fact is that not very
many of our congregations anymore, not very many of our Methodist people
anymore, are really on fire with the Holy Spirit in their everyday lives and
worship. Along with many of our brothers and sisters in the other so-called
"main-line: denominations, too many of us have become simply, more of
God's frozen people.
Today is Pentecost Sunday, the day
when we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit to believers, the birthday of
Christ's church. Our church's paraments are red today-- the liturgical color of
Pentecost, of the martyrs, of ordinations, of Holy Week, of Reformation Sunday,
of the Church. It symbolizes the flames
of the Spirit that descended or appeared around Jesus' disciples in the Upper
Room that day so long ago.
I've asked you to wear red today to
symbolize the fire of Christ in your lives. I even bought a new pair of red
Pentecost socks-- I'm not totally clear on every symbolic aspect of wearing red
socks, but the main thing is--they're fun to wear. And Pentecost is a day for fun, a day for
laughter, a day for awe. Above all though, Pentecost is a day for joy in the
Spirit and joy in believing.
Luke's account of the First Day of
Pentecost in Chapter Two of the Book of
Acts is illuminating--in more ways than one. Those earliest disciples, men
and women both, got caught up in the experience of the Holy Spirit coming among
them, moving in their hearts and in their lives. They saw one another surrounded by flames of
the spirit, auras, haloes, tongues of fire. They saw the light of Christ
burning within in each and every one there. They saw one another shining with
the spark of the holy, the Divine radiance that resides in every atom of the
universe.
They saw one another and themselves
as they really were-- beautiful and absolutely unique individuals in
history. They knew without a doubt that
each and one of them was beloved by The Creator. And in seeing themselves and
each other that way, they at once knew their purpose. They at last understood
their place and purpose in Universe.
It was a Theophany--that's
theological jargon that means they experienced face to face the Awesome
Presence of Living God in their lives.
They were moved and touched and empowered and under-girded. It was
exciting. It felt intoxicating. It was a
unique experience, an encounter, not with the historical Jesus, but with the
Holy Spirit of the Cosmic Christ. They
felt warm and happy and excited and accepted, and a little careless and more
than a little bit giddy. Their spirits were filled with joy and
laughter. They felt good.
Then
they began praising God in loud voices--in languages they really shouldn't have
been able to speak. That felt good and joyful and exciting too. So good that
the excitement became contagious. So good in fact, that the on-lookers in the
street thought that Peter and James and John and Mary and Joanna and Phillip
and Andrew and all the rest had been imbibing in new wine.
So Peter had to break away from that
ecstatic religious experience and preach a sermonette-- which he plagiarized
from the Prophet Joel-- in order to explain to the crowd what was going
on. And the message Peter preached-- the
excitement and joy they were all experiencing was so vibrant, so contagious,
that Luke tells us, the Holy Spirit was able that day to bring some three
thousand people to faith in Christ.
That's a pretty powerful story--a
cosmic story. It's literally a story of the power of the Creator of the
Universes breaking into our individual and community lives in a manner that was
totally unprecedented in History. We Twenty-first Century main-line Christians
read a story like that and it stops us cold. It fills us with awe. It doesn't
fit into that rationalistic, Universe-as-a-machine point of view that we're so
used to. So the Pentecost story makes us
more than a bit uneasy.
We don't exactly know what to do
with a story like that. We, many of us,
have never had a full-blown ecstatic religious experience. And, truth be told, we're not too awfully
sure we'd care to have one. We're not
too sure we'd like to lose control of ourselves to such a degree-- especially
not in public. We leave that to the folks out at First Assembly-- to the
Pentecostals and the charismatic churches-- to the folks we rather rudely used
to call "Holy Rollers".
And if we should chance to have such
an experience, we might have a hard time freely allowing ourselves to be caught
up in it. There'd likely be a tiny voice in the back of our minds whispering to
us, "Be careful you don't make a fool of yourself." There's that
little bit of Twenty First Century rationalism in us that would probably keep
us from totally trusting the experience, that would keep us wondering what was
going on was truly of the Spirit, and how much was being created by human
imagination and invention and crowd psychology.
As for being Drunk on the
Spirit--that's even tougher. Many of us have alcoholic friends and relatives.
We've heard of and seen too much wanton damage done to human lives by alcohol
and other drugs. Dean Martin's jokes aren't quite so funny anymore. Drunks are
not cute or loveable to us anymore--they're sad and sick and we want to get
them off the road.
Besides, we're Methodists. We have a
historic witness against alcohol. The
very Cup of Communion on this, and every United Methodist Altar in the world
contains, by Disciplinary mandate, the "pure, unfermented juice of the
grape."
Despite its physiological roots,
addiction is more than an illness.
Addiction, as we're starting to find out, is also a spiritual
problem. Alcohol is, for too many people
in pain or despair or loneliness, a kind of easy, liquid spirituality. Small wonder that the only real
effective treatment for addiction yet discovered is a spiritual one-- the
Twelve Steps of AA. Small wonder that
people from ethnic groups with great, creation-centered, but suppressed
indigenous spiritual traditions such as African-Americans, Native Americans and
Celts have such high rates of addiction in their communities.
It's ironic but understandable that
the feelings that Peter and Andrew and Mary and the rest felt on that first Day
of Pentecost are exactly the same feelings that many people who drink imagine
they are feeling--self-confidence, acceptance, wit, insight, relief from worry,
intellectual acumen, savoir-faire, happiness, a sense of well-being, of
community, of excitement, of hopefulness. You and I know very well that alcohol
doesn't really generate that feelings in people. But the fact is, those very
traits can and do come to us as gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Being truly "drunk on the
Spirit" isn't debilitating--it's empowering. Feeling your heart warmed isn't
indigestion--it's knowing The Creator's total acceptance and love of all that
you are. Being on fire with the Spirit isn't necessarily an ecstatic high, or
speaking in tongues, or feeling that you "gotta dance" --although it
can mean all those things. It also means receiving the strength and sustaining
love to persevere in times of need, to share in time of abundance, to grow, to
turn your life around, to challenge evil, to touch and heal the broken lives of
others, to answer the call of God in your life.
The Divine Counselor our Lord
promised us will not make us into fools-- or assault our inherent dignity as
people. We will not receive spiritual gifts inappropriate to who we are-- or to
who God is calling us to become. The
Spirit of Truth is always committed to our truest, ultimate best interest. The
Holy Spirit of our God will not call to more than we are capable of doing or
becoming.
The Holy Ghost will however,
liberate us from our pomposity, drive from us all phoniness and falseness. The
Paraclete will free us from those baseless fears and sinful attitudes that limit
us and bind us and keep us from freely becoming the faithful and authentic and
joyful people we would all like to be.
The Spirit of the Living God cherishes us and calls us and empowers us
to become new people-- freed up and exciting and joyful and energized and on
fire with the love of Christ in our hearts.
The real question for you and I is,
are we content to remain spiritual ice cubes?
Or are we going to let the Spirit thaw us out? Are we really happy being
cold, distant, uncaring, tightfisted, mean- minded and petty? Are we truly
content to go on only half-believing, secretly wondering if all this is some
sort of accident or a cosmic joke?
Do we gain anything by our blind
search for some meaning or purpose in our existence? Is there really any point
to living a life built around nothing more than seeing how many toys and power
and money we can collect before we shuffle off this mortal coil and slide off
into oblivion?
Or are we willing to allow the Holy
Spirit into our hearts and lives to stir us and transform us into more
compassionate, generous, gentle, kind, understanding, friendly, holy, happy
people? Are we willing to open ourselves to belief and commitment and service
and joy and hope and meaning and praise?
It's really all up to us.
Do you remember Paul's words in Romans 8? "The whole of creation is standing on tiptoe to see the wondrous sight
of the sons and daughters of God coming into their own." Friends, the
world, the cosmos, the Creator literally waits for our decision.
Here at Christ's Table is all that
you and I need to set our hearts and our lives on fire. Here we may drink of
the new wine of the Spirit, feast on the Bread of Heaven. Here in the Cup and
Bread of Communion is all the nurture we need for growth and sanctification.
Here at the Altar is the beginning of our journey toward holiness and
wholeness.
When we come to the Altar rail in a
few moment, let us come with open minds, open hands, open hearts, open
spirits-- that the Holy Spirit of the Ruler of the Cosmos might find room to
flow into us and among us.
Let us pray.
Breathe on us, Breath of God.
Fill us with life anew.
That we may love what Thou dost
love,
And do what Thou wouldst do. Amen.
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