Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and
Savior, Jesus the Christ. Amen
“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.”
Wind makes me
uneasy, unsettled, and downright anxious.
It’s not often
around here that we experience a great wind.
But it happens from time to time.
My experiences of
the wind come from my time on the Great Plains, now there they have some wind.
My mother-in-law
reminded us what the wind was like in North Dakota following one of her last
trips back there. She was watching the
kids running around on the farm, and what she noticed was that when they ran
around the corner of the house they would instinctively lean into the
wind.
The wind on the
prairie can be oh so persistent, and howling, enough so as to drive one
crazy. Karla used to imagine those early
prairie settlers hunkered down in their soddy shanties listening to that
howling wind all winter.
But the most
unsettling of winds, were not the steady constant winds of everyday, but the
violent winds that accompanied major weather fronts, winds so pronounced that
you could see them coming.
With the sound of
such a mighty wind you knew that change was in the air.
Great Falls,
Montana, holds the record for the greatest single variation in temperature for
a given day.
On that
particular day, they woke up to the bone chilling temperatures of thirty below
zero, and then the Chinook winds began to blow out of the South, and by 3:30 in
the afternoon it was 75 degrees outside.
The rush of a
violent wind.
Anxiety.
When major
weather fronts moved through the plains there was much to fear.
Hail could wipe
out a crop in a flash.
Brush fires set
off by the lightening would rush across the prairie and consume everything in
its path.
The then there
was the ever present reality of the greatest of all winds, the tornadoes. There is the epitome of “the rush of a
violent wind”. Entire towns
leveled. Houses thrown about as though
they were but a piece of paper in the wind.
And in one of the strangest of phenomena, single pieces of straw,
straw!, blown so hard and so fast that they will penetrate fence posts.
Wind makes me
uneasy, unsettled, and downright anxious.
“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.”
Change was
literally, in the air.
Ruach is the
Hebrew word.
It means “Breath,
Wind, and Spirit”
It was this
mighty Ruach, this great wind that was at one and the same time the Breath of
God, and the Spirit of God, that blew over the watery chaos and signaled the
beginning of Creation.
“1 In the
beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, 2 the earth was a
formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God
swept over the face of the waters.”
Imagine the sound
of that great Wind from God, blowing over the face of the waters stirring up
the waves with such a force that life itself was stimulated from that
primordial sea.
And then, that
same Ruach was breathed into a lump of clay, bringing life to that which was
lifeless, and Adam awakened.
With every breath
we take the Spirit, the Ruach of God, fills us with life.
And then at the
last, there is one more great rush of wind as we exhale that last time, giving
up the Spirit of God that is within us, and dying.
“Into your hands
I commend my Spirit”, the Ruach, and with those words, Jesus died.
For the
disciples, this meant a return to the chaos of the beginning. Darkness covered them as in the
beginning. There was a formless void
left in their lives in that place that Jesus once filled.
But then the wind
started blowing.
Easter morning there
came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, a wind so powerful it rolled back
the stone that had sealed tight the tomb where Jesus laid.
And then, that
very wind, breathed life back into the lifeless corpse as Jesus’ arose.
For almost fifty
days the disciples experienced the presence of the risen Christ, until finally
yet another wind blew, and Jesus was caught up as in a whirlwind and ascended
into the heavens.
On Pentecost, the
disciples gathered together again.
It began like the
calm before the storm.
All was still,
and yet there was uneasiness in the air.
Then, the wind
began to blow. The same Spirit of God
that moved over the face of the deep in the beginning, now filled the house in
which they gathered.
And with the Wind,
came fire igniting within them a deep passion for the Gospel, and for all God’s
children.
They could
contain themselves no more.
And in the power
of the Spirit, they began to speak.
Hearts were
changed.
Belief was born.
Three thousand
were baptized that day, and yet it was just the beginning.
Wind is a
powerful thing.
It can signal the
end of life as we know it.
And it can give
birth to the future of God.
Nearly two
thousand years have passed since that first Pentecost. Two thousand years during which the Word of
God was shared and people received the gifts of the Spirit throughout the
earth. Faith, hope, and love, these
three, and the greatest of these is love.
But for all of
that, we stand at a crossroads in our country.
The Winds of
change are blowing all around us.
We don’t know
what to make of it.
It’s hard to
discern, from the howling of the wind, whether it will bring new life, or
destruction.
And so we are
anxious. I am anxious.
There are places
in the world where the Wind that is blowing is clearly the Spirit of God at
work.
Africa. Long a mission field for our work. Now, it is in Africa that some of the most
vibrant Churches are growing.
I served as a
hospital chaplain with a priest from Africa, Jacob Yali, who had come from
Nigeria.
He told of his
congregation.
25,000 people
were part of his parish.
A typical
confirmation Sunday might see 300 to 350 new believers affirm their faith.
The same thing is
happening in China.
But the Winds of
change in our country are not so promising.
Small congregations
like ours dot the landscape, and too often the sound of the Wind that we hear,
sounds much more like a last gasp for life, than the beginning of new life.
I have a friend,
a frequent visitor to our congregation in Sandpoint, Julie. Julie is a charismatic Lutheran, and is quite
unique to have in worship. One Sunday, I
looked over and saw her lying on the floor.
Two of our members were doctors and rushed to her side. I stopped them. Julie was simply overcome by the Spirit. She would get that way whenever she received
the bread and the wine.
Well, Julie is
convinced that the Spirit is going to start blowing once again in this
country. Like a farmer watching the
weather on the horizon, Julie perceives that the great Wind of God is going to start
blowing through our land.
I hope Julie is
right.
Not only that, I
hope that we will hear the Spirit’s presence like the rush of a mighty Wind.
During our Lenten
services this year I was delighted to see a Dove outside our window, looking in
on us. “The Spirit descending on us like
a dove”-- is what I thought, gentle and lovely.
I think that is
what we’d prefer.
We’d prefer that
the Spirit come to us, gentle and lovely, like a dove. Comforting.
And yet on
Pentecost, the Spirit was anything but “gentle and lovely”.
The rush of a
might wind.
I think we are
beyond what a gentle Dove can fix. . .
What we need is
that mighty Wind that called forth life from the watery chaos.
What we need is
that Breath of God, breathing once again into our lifeless corpses, raising us
up to new life in Christ.
This is what we
need.
But it’s not
something we can do.
Only God’s Spirit
can work such wonders in our midst.
Only the Spirit
can give us faith.
Only the Spirit
can give us hope.
Only the Spirit
can teach us to love as we have been loved.
And so I’m
praying these days. Fervently praying.
“Come Holy
Spirit, Heavenly Dove, Might Wind, Breath of God.
“Fill our hearts
with your Love, and our lives with your power.”
Amen.
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