Pentecost 2022

"All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other lanaguages, as the Spirit gave them ability." - Acts 2:4

        Today was Pentecost. In church, we heard again the story of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit and how many people from many nations heard the Good News in their own language for the very first time.

        A lot has changed since that first Pentecost, but I am convinced that the Holy Spirit still wants us to hear the Good News in our own language...again...for the first time or, maybe, even the 100th time. 

        For me personally, at least, I need to be reminded constantly that God speaks most clearly to us when we stop.  Certainly, God can speak to us in church and always speaks to us in His Word...but it is when we step away from our busyness long enough (Just like those Pentecost pilgrims in Jerusalem) to go to church and read God's word that God has space...and time...to remind us who we were created to be.

        Lately, I have been listening hard for who God wants me to be. Through job loss and uncertainty, through our oldest son moving away to go to school, through the busyness of a sophomore in high school, a seventh grader, and an older home in constant need of attention, I have let the caucophony of the world fill me up...not the Holy Spirit.

        I should know better.

        After all, the whole idea of, "Church Stoppping" is to let go of the reins long enough to let God lead us into a deeper version of not only who we are...but of who God created us to be.  

        "The lawn needs to be mowed,"  I said.

         "Nope. Not today." Jennifer said.

        "I need to pay some bills," I protested.

        "Not today," my wife insisted.  "Today, we are going to put our toes in the pool and you are going skateboarding with your boys."

        That is what we did. Nothing on my list was done. And the Holy Spirit filled me up. "Just write," I thought I heard God say.

        "But what if I am not good enough?" I said.

        "It doesn't matter," God said, and the tongues of fire burned brighter, bringing to life places long dead. "You don't write for the acclaim of others, after all. You write so that I might bring you life."

        "I am tired," I insisted.

        "You are tired," God spoke deeply. "You are too busy. Just be."

        I took a nap. I dipped my toes in the pool. I rode skateboards with the boys.  Maybe tomorrow, I will write.

            Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being.