Sermon from Pentecost Sunday, May 15, 2016

Readings:  John 14:12-17, 25-27 and Acts 2:1-8, 14-18

Theme:  Something More

Have you heard Spirit?

I think I might have.

In my late teens and early University years I occasionally attended a large Bible study of mostly young people from across the city of Winnipeg -- Jesus Freaks, a variety of spiritual hippies, a bunch of well-heeled church kids looking for something, and a corps of charismatic leaders.  Each Friday night 75-100 people crammed into a large, old home for 2-3 hours of singing, praying, testimony, Bible exposition and almost weekly, also a manifestation of glossolalia -- a number of people speaking in tongues.   It was my first and only experience of hearing people speak in tongues.

My home church was a conservative German and English Baptist church with traditional hour-long worship dominated by the minister's sermon, a few hymns and choir anthem.  We were mostly spoken to, and not at all in tongues.  The charismatic Friday-night Bible study seemed a radical, risky and rebellious thing to be attending, and though I was never drawn myself to seek "the gift of tongues" I was immensely glad to be able to listen in.  

It was probably the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life.  There were no words that I could tell.  Just notes and sounds – a kind of floating wave of ancient, exotic chant.  It usually began quietly in a corner of the room with just one or two voices, gradually rose to draw in a few more voices, was carried for maybe 5, 10 or 15 minutes, then gradually faded. I do not doubt it was a movement of the spirit, and I was deeply grateful to know “there is something more” to church, God and faith than what I was able to feel in my home church.   Something more.

Have you seen Spirit at work in a body of people?

I think I have.

I was doing pastoral oversight work for Presbytery 8 or 10 years ago, making tri-ennial visits to churches in the Presbytery – meeting with the minister, other staff, and the Church Council to find out about the life and ministry of the congregation, their joys and sorrows, and how Presbytery might be of any help.

At one church our team was talking with the church secretary and we learned she worked part-time there and part-time also at another church.  It became clear she found working at the church we are at, tiring and depleting.  There seemed so little energy among the people, so few people doing so much work, people bickering, and most of the work being focussed just on helping the church keep the roof on, the lights working, and the doors open.

She said it was nothing like the other church she worked at.  That church, she said, was a joy to work for, and the work energized rather than depleted her.

When asked said the other church was St. Cuthbert’s Presbyterian in Westdale, and I told her I knew of it.  Five or ten years before I had been chaplain at the University, and St Cuthbert’s was just on the fringe of the campus community, and a number of University professors and students attended there, along with a good mix of all ages from the neighbourhood around the church. 

St Cuthbert’s had – still has, a modest building.  In the time I knew of them, they hadn’t bothered expanding or making it fancy.  Because at least at that time they focused instead on where God was leading them in the world.  Nicaragua and the FMLN were on the social justice radar at the time, and St Cuthbert’s got involved in the struggle for democracy in Central America.  They sponsored, housed and befriended Central American refugees.  They made trips themselves to Nicaragua.  They came to know first-hand the meaning of the American Empire and of political darkness in our time, as well as the meaning of good news.

They also were involved locally – with members leading Christian awareness events on campus, organizing co-op daycare for the neighbourhood, planting a community garden, exploring the meaning of the Bible today, and offering worship that at different times featured jazz, praise and even pop music in addition to more traditional hymns.

I’ve no idea how they are today.  That was 15 or 20 or more years ago.  I know they also had problems even then, and have faced real challenges.  But at the same time, they were doing good work.  They were engaged in God’s work.  Because of how they were together, and how they tried to open themselves to the story and the way of Jesus, they were doing and being something more than anything they could have done and been just on their own.   And I think that’s why many of the people who went there, did so – because by being there they knew they were able to be part of something more in the world than they could be on their own, or anywhere else.

Have you ever been in something Spirit-touched?

Maybe.

In late October of 2003 I was on week-long solitary retreat at Crieff Hills.  At the advice of a spiritual director, I was using the stories of the resurrection as the basis of my prayer and meditation each day.  I started Monday morning, was staying in an old, one-person cottage, and I had the grounds virtually to myself.  By mid-week I was enjoying a very rich time of daily reading, prayer, walking, meditation and rest.

On Thursday a busload of high school students pulled in for a day’s school trip, which at first I thought would ruin my retreat.  As I wrote in my journal:

“Today I have been upset.  I have felt invaded – as though some boundary has been crossed and what was ‘mine’ is being trespassed and spoiled.

“Then just five minutes ago as I was finishing mid-day prayer with an offering of the Lord’s Prayer I heard footsteps through leaves just outside the cottage, and then the front door of the cottage being opened tentatively.  I got up and went to the door, ready to repel the intruder.  He – a high school student eating a sandwich, was as surprised to see me as I was angry to see him.  With nary a hello or kind word, I began to say to him I was on solitary retreat and wanted to be alone.  Thankfully he interrupted me in mid-sentence, and stammered something to me about hearing a big noise and about thinking there was a fire.  Then he left.

“Strange thing for him to say.  Stranger yet that what I read this morning was about a sound like the rush of a mighty wind that filled the house where they were staying, and divided tongues as of fire appearing among them and resting upon each of them.

“My answer to the boy before he disappeared was, ‘Not here.’ ”

Not here – as I looked around the cottage and saw no disturbance, saw no fire.  But I still wonder.  Was there something more going on where I was and in what I was doing, than I knew myself?

I think I always thought of the Spirit somehow being somewhere else—not in traditional church, but in a radical, rebellious movement; not in my church, but in someone else’s.  

But I wonder – is the Spirit more present, more alive, and more discernible to others right here than we even know ourselves  -- as long as in what we do and where we are going, we honestly focus as much as we know on the presence and the way of Jesus, the Christ?

Have you heard Spirit?

Have you seen Spirit at work in a body of people?

Have you ever been in something Spirit-touched?