What Does this Mean?

Acts 2: 1-21, page 119
When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting.
Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs – in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.”
All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, “What does this mean?” But others sneered and said, “They are filled with new wine.”
But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “Men of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and listen to what I say. Indeed, these are not drunk, as you suppose, for it is only nine o’clock in the morning. No, this is what was spoken through the prophet Joel:
‘In the last days it will be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.
Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit; and they shall prophesy.
And I will show portents in the heaven above and signs on the earth below, blood, and fire, and smoky mist.
The sun shall be turned to darkness and the moon to blood, before the coming of the Lord’s great and glorious day.
Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’
Sermon
It was wonderful being at NaCoMe last Sunday. For those who were not able to be there I’m sorry you missed spending the day at this Presbyterian camp and conference center, a place this church and many in our congregation have long been a part of.
Even the drive out there was nice, and on our way there two church signs caught my attention.
One, not far past the YMCA, was using the heat to scare motorists into conversion: “You think its hot now” the sign read.
It’s an interesting message to send to the world. I probably thought way too much about it, but I saw it on the beginning of my drive and we were in the car for a while so I had some time on my hands and was wondering how welcoming that message sounds to those not on their way to church but their way to the river or the Y, whether or not it inspired them to change their plans of not going to church to attend worship, if anyone read to themselves, “You think it’s hot now” and thought “huh… this church sounds like a nice place to visit.”
More likely it sounds judgmental – you are going to hell but we aren’t. It’s hot where you are but we have air conditioning. More likely this kind of sign didn’t bring anyone into the church’s sanctuary, where I assume there is both relief from the heat and the promise of eternal comfort.
That’s what the church does sometimes. We try to be welcoming, but our attempts at evangelism are so off-putting that most Presbyterians are scared to even say the word. But without new people the church doesn’t grow, so many congregations end up not growing, not welcoming anyone, their backs turned to the outside world in a room that no one new ever ventures into.
That’s not too different a place from where the disciples and the other members of the fledgling church found themselves. “When the day of Pentecost came,” our scripture lesson reads, “they were all together in one place.”
We may assume that they were all together in the same room that Jesus had left them in. They just stayed right in that room, and the gospel stayed right there in that room with them.
It’s not that they really should have been outside. Remembering our 2nd scripture lesson from last Sunday we know that Jesus told them to stay there and so they did.
And when you think about it, staying inside was probably the safest thing. Considering Christ’s crucifixion, they were smart to stay indoors knowing that there were people looking for them. Peter had already been identified as one who was with him, so for preservation if nothing else the Church stayed right there in that room – not growing, not expanding, just trying to survive.
This same sort of thing is mirrored throughout Church history. The Church does certain things when it is focused on survival rather than growth.
The 12th Century was one of the great periods of evangelism with the Church expanding as far East as Japan, and so the Pope and authorities in Rome became concerned with theological integrity. They met for the Fourth Lateran Council and, among other things set in stone, the official Latin Mass and the meaning of the Mass using for the first time the word “transubstantiation” to ensure that all Christians, even those as far away from Rome as India, celebrate the mass the same way and believe the same thing. And so a great period of expansion was reined in by a great meeting for legislation. The focus shifted to maintaining the Church rather than expanding, ensuring the survival of a pure church while putting an end to regional interpretations and dissimilarities.
This year the Presbyterian Church and other mainline denominations have experienced something not so different. Not because of great expansion, but because of changes in society our church has been meeting and voting in the hopes of ensuring theological integrity. The issue of homosexual ordination has dominated our church’s mission and ministry, has been a primary point of disunity and debate, and any news on television or newspaper concerning our denomination has focused solely on this issue, leading many, even many Presbyterians, to believe that too much tolerance may destroy the church as it is and steps must be taken to ensure survival.
We Presbyterians have been voting a lot over this issue, so we can relate when one day, we don’t know how long they had been in that room, but one day Peter says, as it goes in chapter 1, “Why don’t we elect a new disciple to replace Judas?”
And so it is with the church – at certain times we vote, we need to vote. We would never call it a waste of time – after all, it says in Psalms that there should be twelve disciples, so another had to be selected.
In the same way, it seems important to decide what to do with the Book of Order, to set guidelines for who can be ordained and who can’t, to vote on how we should best confess our faith and what standards we should use. We need to spend some of our time in meetings and things, but must be careful should we start to believe that our decisions, our votes, are what determine the Church’s survival.
The vote didn’t actually have anything to do with it, as there they were busy taking care of the day to day proceedings, cleaning up after all that voting, when a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole area where they were sitting. The disciples saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them and all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit.
The disciples and the other men and women there then went out from that room declaring the wonders of God to all those visiting Jerusalem – yes – some thought they were just drunk – but those who heard the gospel went back to their homes across the seas changed.
Today we are bold to celebrate that same blowing wind. We are bold to proclaim that the same blowing wind is here - among us – and today we are bold to acknowledge that we Presbyterians, to ourselves and to the outside world - can look a lot like a room full of busy-bodied disciples giving all their attention to voting and less and less attention to the Holy Work God calls them to do.
So we cry out for the holy wind that the Church needs, that rather than taunt non-believers by asking, “You think it’s hot now,” we be shaped more by the other church sign I remember from last Sunday: “Have you hugged anybody lately?”
It’s a little cheesy I know, and I won’t be hugging stranger on the street so I won’t ask you to either, but doesn’t it send a different message?
Today we cry out for the holy wind that the Church needs, that we might show our neighborhood that we are awake to the cruel realities of the world that cannot wait for a committee. That there is passion here for more than voting and lobbying and arguing over who is holy and who is not, who is going to hell and who isn’t; that we might show the world our true purpose – that Christ does not call us to vote on who to love – Christ calls us to love.
The early church kept itself busy with an election there in that room for a while, but the Spirit called them out just as it calls you out.
Like the disciples who moved from their room to preach to the crowd, you have been given the gift of speech – maybe not to prophesy from the rooftops, but certainly to speak to the world outside this room.
Those who stay at home this morning don’t know what they’re missing here, and they never will as long as your mouth is shut, too fearful to issue an invitation. Reclaim your tongue of fire, for you have been given the truth – that in Christ Jesus you have become a new creation – and everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.