Pentecost

 When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken.  Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans?  Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?"   Acts 2:6-8

  They were utterly amazed!  When the Holy Spirit came like a rushing wind each one heard in their own language.  That must have been incredible.  Can you imagine what it would feel like to know that your own language, not just that of your speech but of your heart, was truly understood and truly spoken in return to you?  The exciting news of Pentecost is still pretty incredible.  The Holy Spirit knows us, intimately, speaks the language of our verbal words and of our heart, even the heart language for which we have no words. 

  This is a very comforting concept for me and further reason to fall yet deeper in love with this Sacred Mystery that seems very ready to lift me to my feet time and again.  This Sunday is really significant this year.  Once again the church celebrates the generous gift of the Holy Spirit and our church often has a brass choir to help with that celebration.  Chris used to play in that brass choir and it's been hard some Sundays to hear them play and see his absence.  This year, however, I get to watch my son take that spot.  Eric will be playing brass on Sunday and the Holy Spirit will speak the language of his heart, of Emily's heart and of mine...along with each of yours. 

  My prayer is for you to find some bewilderment in that knowledge and that awareness.  About three years ago, I read the book The Shack.  It was a challenge for me not because of its hard questions about when hard things happen but because it stretched me in my images of God.  I've changed a LOT since then and I now embrace the image of the Holy Spirit in that book.  I won't spoil the plot for those of you who haven't read it but one image sticks with me, was with me in the hospital and has been with me in the hardest moments and in some of the happiest ones.  That image is this "the Holy Spirit loves to collect tears."  I imagine a few will be collected on Sunday when Eric plays.  They are collected every time I hug one of my kids, when I listen to them begin once again to dream big dreams for the future.  They are also collected when I sit in those silent moments and trust that Pentecost news, that the Holy Spirit speaks my language, one that is all my very own.  Rejoice this Sunday, dream big and be heard...that same Spirit knows your language too.

Grace for your journey,
Leigh