SOUND OF WIND
AND TONGUES OF FIRE
Rev. Alfred Williams
Ladera Community Church
May 11, 2008
Acts 2:1-21
Prayer: Our ears are attentive. Our hearts are open. May your Word abide in us, O God, for your Love’s sake. Amen.
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. And all of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.
What do those verses tell us about God’s Spirit? That the essence of God’s Spirit is wind and fire? I don’t think so. Not if we listen carefully. The passage does not state that God’s Spirit is a “wind” or a “fire.” Instead, the passage compares the presence of God’s Spirit to the sound of the wind and to the flames of the fire. Then it goes on to say that the sound of the Spirit’s presence filled the room and that the flames of the Spirit’s fire came to rest on each person. With this most amazing result. People who had previously been separated by different languages were able to speak with one another and begin to communicate.
How did such an amazing thing happen? This is my answer. It happened because the essence of God’s Spirit is compassion. Compassion! The very thing Donna Lindsay and the children have been talking about for the past three Sundays. But the Spirit’s compassion is unique. It is compassion of a very special kind.
The Spirit’s compassion, like the sound of the wind and the flames of the fire, is uncontrollable, unpredictable, unrestrained, unsettling, untiring. Like the sound of the wind and the flames of the fire, the Spirit’s compassion invades us and envelops us and energizes us and inspires us and moves us to where compassion calls. The Spirit’s compassion creates communities of radical caring that break down barriers, that heal and reconcile broken relationships, that make brothers and sisters out of strangers, that present sensitive hearts and extend open hands, particularly to those in desperate need.
It must be said. Some people feel the pull of the Spirit’s compassion but don’t know what to make of it. Others can’t fit the Spirit into their schedules. Still others are seemingly deaf and blind. In their defense, I must say that when it comes to the presence of God’s Spirit in our lives we must be expectant. Our eyes and ears must be open and we must know what we are looking for. A few “for instances” may help.
A week or two ago a member of the congregation showed me a prayer list he had written down on a piece of scratch paper during worship one Sunday morning. They were the first names of a dozen or so people with whom he works every day. What surprised him was that just by their first names you could tell they came from a wide variety of backgrounds and cultures. The United Nations in miniature! He was praying for them all. At that moment I swear I saw a spark of the Spirit’s compassion leap from the scrap of paper he was holding in his hand.
Did you see what happened during Time with the Children last Sunday? Or maybe you were too far away. A little fellow too young to walk was crawling on the floor right in front of me. And a little girl – three years old I would guess – with a radiant smile walked over to him, leaned down, and patted him on the cheek. I am certain a tiny flame was hovering over her head.
The other day I got a telephone call from a man who wanted some help with a Mother’s Day gift. Some time ago his mother died. He wondered if there was anyone I could suggest who would appreciate help of some kind. The kind of thing he would do for his own mother if she were living. Maybe it was just static, but in the background I thought I heard the faint sound of a gentle wind.
Last Sunday afternoon I visited King Plaza in Palo Alto. With my eyes wide open I went up and down the rows of empty combat boots tagged with the names of soldiers from California killed in Iraq. And then I walked the labyrinth of civilian shoes memorializing Iraqi civilians killed in the conflict. Only a few of us were there at the time. It was sacred space and there was silence. In the silence the Spirit’s compassion was crying out for peace.
One day this week I received an email inquiring as to whether or not, in addition to today’s Blanket Sunday offering, we could also give people the opportunity to give money to the victims of the cyclone in Myanmar through the channels of Church World Service. On another day there was an email suggesting that we at Ladera Community Church participate in a conversation on race in American society encouraged by John Thomas, President of the United Church of Christ. The writer of the email said she wanted to work with others to facilitate such a conversation. Two emails of grace-filled compassion seeking real time expression through cyberspace!
I say again. To recognize the sounds and sights of God’s grace-filled compassion we must be attentive and expectant. Which means we must take the Gospel at its word. God does not leave us orphaned. God’s Spirit is present and at work among us. It is for us to keep our eyes and ears open. When we hear the Spirit’s sound and see the Spirit’s spark, to claim them and to allow them to claim us. Then, by all means, celebrate!
