June 8, 2003
Pentecost

A young father stopped at church on a weekday afternoon with his exuberant little girl, and when she started to race around making noise he told his daughter to be quiet, because she was in God’s house. Curious, she pushed open the door to the sanctuary and looked around, then reassured her father, “Don’t worry, daddy, God’s not home today.”

Happy birthday. If there are any among you who were actually born on June 8, to you a happy birthday indeed, but to the rest of you, again I say, happy birthday. Remember, the church is never a building. The church is its people, and today is the birthday of the church. This is Pentecost Sunday, and today is the day that the Spirit of God descended upon the disciples of Jesus, the ones who had been huddled in a Jerusalem hotel room, and turned them from followers into leaders, from mere disciples, students of the way, into apostles, or teachers.

Today we celebrate the beginning of a new era in world history. We rejoice in a world no longer ruled by tyranny, no longer a slave to the idea that power comes from having the largest army and the greatest cruelty.

Jesus Christ came to earth to proclaim the end of that illusion, and today we give ourselves willingly to the blessings of unity and understanding.

We celebrate the founding of a colony of heaven on earth, the establishment of a beachhead on the shores of an empire ruled by the Evil One, a foothold from which to proclaim liberty to the oppressed people of the world.

Luke in his Gospel wrote that the Messianic age had arrived, and in the Acts of the Apostles he continued the story, showing how the apostles carried the word out of the upper room, reconciling, healing, demonstrating to a broken and divided world the possibilities of a challenging, dynamic, loving, sharing community.

That’s good news, folks, and to that community we say happy birthday indeed.

Luke is by far the best story teller of the four Gospel writers—it’s his narrative of the Christmas story that delights us every December—and in the Pentecost story he describes the power and dynamics of this new world which suddenly burst upon the world a few weeks after Easter Sunday.

He wrote about the entire world gathered in Jerusalem and started to drop names that would symbolize the whole world to his audience—Egypt, Libya, Crete, Mesopotamia, Arabia, even Rome itself. Luke speaks of a vision of the future, a world where all the ends of the earth—every language, every race, every national, tribal, cultural difference have all been gathered into one tent, embraced by Christ’s love and forged by the Spirit into one encouraging and supporting community.

Luke sees a day when this torn and bleeding world, the world that you and I know refuses to turn to Jesus as the answer to its problems, will finally be healed by servant love. He knows it is a community we have never experienced, but he envisions a perfection that has never been achieved on this suffering planet and asks “Why not?” In many ways it is much the same question asked by that those who heard the apostles preach that Pentecost Sunday: “What does this mean?”

Now Peter, the one who always had the big mouth, he stands up in the middle of all these strangers and here’s how we know he truly was changed by the Spirit—this time he has something to say. He launches into the greatest sermon ever preached by somebody not named Jesus. He starts by quoting the prophet Joel, who gave his own vision of the future with weird, strange words that we associate with the Apocalypse, words like blood, fire, smoke, miracles, visions, dreams, about the sun going dark and the moon glowing red. In those days, he says, those who call on the Lord for help will be saved.

It’s a dark and stormy vision, isn’t it? Do you think it describes the history of the church as we have seen it played out over the last 2,000 years? But the very last words of that vision—those who call on the Lord for help will be saved—that’s the biblical promise. The root of our identity as Christians, the cornerstone of our whole existence, rests on hope. We Christians cherish the legacy of the prophets of the Old Testament, like Joel, the whole story of the Jewish people, because the prophets saw new futures amid the violent, murderous resistance of the world.

Remember the prophet Isaiah? He was a spokesman for the future if ever there was one. He promised a peaceful kingdom where the lion would lie down with the lamb, babies could play in snake pits unmolested, where swords would be beaten into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks, where men will neither wage war nor study war any longer. In fact, those very words from Isaiah are carved into the walls of the United Nations building in New York City. They are reason enough why we should not be too hasty when people talk about scrapping the United Nations. For all its many flaws, the U.N. remains a place where countries can talk about their differences instead of jumping to war.

But why are Isaiah’s words so striking, to us, just as they were to the people of Israel, some three thousand years ago? Because the evidence of the world cries out, “No way!” Isaiah and his people found themselves surrounded by hostile neighbors, tyrants poised to enter and conquer their country, slaughter the people and carry off the remnants into slavery. In the face of the world he knew and the world we know, Isaiah saw history turned upside down, a reversal of violence and inhumanity, a world of peace and love in the middle of, and far beyond, this “reality” of destruction and ruin.

Or what about Joel? If Joel had not written the passage we heard this morning, he would be all but forgotten today, but this vivid vision of the future, about the days when Christ shall return and claim his kingdom, these words were written to a farming community suffering through a drought—crops shrunken and burned by the sun, locusts swarming to devour what was left. Starvation was laying a cruel hand on the Hebrew people and terror ruled among them.

But Joel gathered this devastated community together, leaned on his God, because ultimately that was all they had to lean on, and they were delivered. They received hope in the midst of their despair, and that’s what Pentecost Sunday is all about. Pentecost reminds us that we are called to be prophets ourselves, to remind the world of the startling future in which the divisions of the human race will become the unity of the human family. That’s the promise of God. That’s the mission of the church, and on Pentecost we celebrate the power of the Spirit to make it happen.

Now let’s talk about power for a minute. We’ve already said that power as the world understands power is an illusion. Mao Tse Tung once said that “Power comes from the barrel of a gun,” and Joseph Stalin, told of the Pope’s influence, sneered, “How many divisions does he command?” Today, those evil dictators lie in their graves unmourned, despised by the world. Every empire built on the oppression of common people eventually crumbles to dust.

But suppose I had 10 gallons of gasoline, and into that can of gasoline I would drop a lighted match. What would happen? I’d get to meet Jesus face to face very quickly, right. It would be a huge explosion. Now suppose I take that same 10 gallons of gas and pour it into my Mercury Sable. It will take me about 300 miles. The difference is that the engine will use that gas in small controlled explosions to keep the tires rolling,

The Spirit works in both ways. On Pentecost Sunday the Spirit came to the upper room in one huge explosion and set the apostles’ hearts on fire. The world was changed in one big bang, from a place where survival is meant for the fit and strong to a place where communities are formed based on sharing and love.

But the Spirit also works in small continual explosions to sustain the church and keep it rolling through the centuries, fueling its purpose, renewing it when necessary. Through worship, fellowship and service, the church taps into this power to keep going for the long haul. And we, you and I, are the heirs to this power. It’s not given to us to be couch potatoes, it’s given so that we are sent from this, our own upper room, into the world to share the good news.

You know what? There’s a reason why we Presbyterians are sometimes called the Frozen Chosen. Sometimes it seems that we’re just frozen in place, immune to the fiery actions of the Spirit. Here’s what I think—maybe we need a little less Presbyterian, and a little more Pentecostal. And I’ll explain what I mean.

Fred Craddock, a Christian author, once told about a lecture he was giving at a seminary when once of his audience members got up and asked, “Are you Pentecostal?” The room grew quiet and Craddock looked around for the dean of the seminary, but he was nowhere to be found. Craddock was taken aback, and he asked the young man, “Do you mean, do I belong to the Pentecostal Church?” He said, “No, I mean are you Pentecostal?” “Do you mean am I charismatic?” The student said, “I am asking if you are Pentecostal.” Craddock said “Do you want to know if I speak in tongues?”

Again the young man said “I’m asking if you are Pentecostal,” and Craddock had to admit, “I don’t understand the question.” The student said “Obviously you are not Pentecostal,” and left. Craddock later realized that this young man, rude as he was, was using “Pentecostal” as an adjective, not a noun. It doesn’t mean a particular sect of the church, it doesn’t mean an event or an historical occurrence or a Sunday on the church calendar. What the student was saying is this: If the church is alive and active in the world, it is Pentecostal. And if it isn’t, what good is it?

That’s what all of us have to ask ourselves. If we’re not sharing the good news, if we’re not modeling Christ others in need, what good are we?

Someone once imagined what the scene was like in Heaven when Jesus returned from his earthly assignment, and the Angel Gabriel asked, “Master, how did it go?” Jesus replied, “It went poorly. They nailed me to a cross. But I preached the love of God for as long as I could.” Then Gabriel said, “What did you do to make sure the message reaches the world?” Jesus said “I chose 12, and gave them the gospel of God’s love for all mankind, and told them to carry the word to the ends of the earth.” “But master,” Gabriel said, “What if they fail to carry it out?” Jesus said, “There is no other way.”

My friends, there is no other way. We were given this vision of a world that can reach the perfection that God envisioned at the moment of creation, but there is no other way for this message to reach the rest of the world than for us who have heard the good news to tell someone else. Westmoreland Literacy Council, which trains adults to teach other adults to read, has as their motto, “Each one teach one.”

When the apostles received the Spirit on Pentecost Sunday, it seemed as if they charged out of their upper room into the streets and began to teach the first person they saw. That’s how fired up they were.

That’s what the church today needs, that kind of enthusiasm, that sense of mission. The church seems to limp along today like a crippled giant when it ought to be striding forward in purpose like a conquering Army. It needs to be Pentecostal.

I’m tired of people who say that the church has lost its relevance to the world. I’m tired of the church being on the defensive all the time. I’m tired of those who want to hang black crepe on the church door and say the Christian era is over. The church is not dead. It may be sleeping, but it is not dead.

My friends, last Sunday I had the privilege of leading worship at the youth leadership workshop that Robin and I organize every year.

 There is no tougher audience in the world than a bunch of smart, skeptical 15 and 16 year old kids. I want us all to pray for their teachers this morning. But to close this morning I’m going to quote the same song I used with them.

 A number of years ago Fleetwood Mac came out with a song called “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow.” The song says that tomorrow will soon be here, and that tomorrow can be better than yesterday, if we want it to be.

I’m here to tell you that the Spirit of God is alive, on fire, within each and every one of us, and we have the power to change the world.

How shall we celebrate this Pentecost Sunday, this birthday of the church? How do we, a people born on Pentecost Sunday, keep alive to the promptings and power of the Spirit? We need to stay true to our Pentecostal beginnings, by committing ourselves to, working for, and modeling to the skeptical bystanders a new future for God’s world.

And even as Joel foresees Christ’s return amid blood and smoke and fire, we know that for us hope is built in terms of staying power, and we have to build this new future brick by brick, step by step, changed life by changed life. We know that the future of God will come in our time by perseverance and tenacity. That’s why it’s so good that today we also celebrate the 50 year members of East Liberty Church, those who have persevered in the Christian walk of faith for a good long time. We thank God for their example and ask him to make us as faithful as they have been.

And what else do we pray for on Pentecost? How do we rejoice in the new age that was born this day?

We pray that we never get discouraged about the possibility of making a difference in God’s world. Yes, sometimes we get bogged down. Sometimes we start to snap and bark at each other like a pack of nasty dogs. Sometimes we despair of reaching the future at all. But Pentecost Sunday lets us see the future, and we are reminded that it’s not enough just to survive in these dangerous and evil days, we are called to stand up and proclaim a new future. That’s who we are—a community of the future, love’s future. Pentecost sees that future in glorious vision. God grant, as Joel promised, that his Spirit will be poured out on us all, and on this congregation, so that young and old, male and female, may see visions, dream dreams and live recreated in God’s transformed world. Amen.