The Setting (03/28/26-03/29/26)

It seems that my notes break out almost along the lines of my preparatory explorations.  There is a reason for this.  So much in this scene assumes familiarity with the cultural setting.  It was the day of Pentecost, or perhaps the evening of that day.  Okay, we recognize that this is one of the Jewish festivals, are perhaps aware of its association with the harvest season.  It has, in that aspect, a certain resemblance to our Thanksgiving holiday, which is likewise a celebration of God’s provision, as it marks the end of the fall harvest.  Of course, Pentecost was a spring harvest, but the message is the same.  God has provided, and there is reason to rejoice and be thankful.

What is perhaps less familiar to us is that Jewish practice had added to the original observance.  In fairness, Leviticus 23:15-22 doesn’t really speak to the purpose of that feast.  I suppose that an agrarian society would have already caught the connotations, especially given its date being measured from the Passover feast with its first-fruits offering.  Now there is bread to offer, because the grain has been brought in.  Deuteronomy 16:9 makes the association more explicit.  Seven weeks from the time you begin to reap the grain.  And note the commandment associated:  “You shall rejoice before the LORD your God” (Dt 16:11a).  Other references in Exodus also make the association explicit.  But tradition had added to law, and it became, in fact, a celebration of the giving of the Law at Mount Sinai.  Or, perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that observance of that event was added to the schedule for the day.  But it could as readily be that as society became less agrarian, more mercantile, connection to the growing season lessened.  And, as developments so often threatened the nationhood of Israel, a deeper connection with her founding and her Founder might well arise.

This background would have been quite familiar to those gathered in the upper room.  They had known of this feast, observed this feast all the years they had lived.  They knew its observances.  They knew its rituals.  They knew its stories and associations.  God had chosen to establish this people as His own, select people.  To this day that signal honor is cherished in the hearts of the Israelites.  Even amongst the Messianic Jews, it remains something of a badge of honor.  I think of that organization for their support, “Chosen People Ministries.”  It is so integral to their understanding of themselves.  And, of course, for the Christian, that same sense of being honored by God’s choice of us as His own ‘peculiar people’ remains.  It’s not a matter of being elite, as if we had done something to earn that honor.  But it is high honor nonetheless.  Indeed I would have to say there is no honor higher.

This matter of the giving of the Law, which was at that time celebrated as part of the Pentecost observance, plays significantly into what we see unfolding here.  As we shall see, and may already see, it explains to some degree the phenomena that announced the presence of the Holy Spirit come down.  It may also explain Luke’s wording here.  In the NASB, it is a fairly benign phrase that is offered.  “The day of Pentecost had come.”  Reading Wuest’s translation, one gets the sense that there’s something more here.  He writes, “the day of Pentecost was in process of being fulfilled.”  Why does he go down this route?  It’s down to this term: sumphlerousthai.  It’s a term of completion or fulfillment.  And yes, it is in the present tense, which Wuest seeks to make clear by ‘in process.’  We’re in the moment, as it were.  Things are unfolding.

Still, the question arises, is Luke intending to declare the purpose of Pentecost fulfilled?  Pentecost itself speaks of completion, the completion of the harvest.  Well, from the Gospels we recognize an association of the harvest with the last day, when all whom God has determined to call have been called, the Gospel has gone forth to every nation and every heart which He has chosen has received it with gladness.  That, clearly, was not complete on this day.  If anything, it was about to begin in earnest.  If there is a completion, an antitype to the type represented in that feast, I don’t see that this is it.  If anything, (and I honestly do not advise placing any weight on the thought,) we could expect that the last day arrives on Pentecost.  But again, we must be mindful of the admonition, most clear and forceful, that not even our Lord is given to know the day or the hour, much less His followers.  Make no assumptions about the calendar.  All is deo volente, if God wills.

Now, however, consider the added implications of the day.  It had come to be an observation of that historic moment in Israel’s life as a nation, indeed the founding of its national identity.  For in the giving of the Law, there was also the entering into covenanted relationship with God.  He had sworn to promises now certain in regard to them, and they in turn had sworn to uphold their side of the deal.  It was not long before the value of their sworn word was shown.  But through long ages, we are given to see that God has indeed stood by His, even in the face of a perpetually treasonous people.  It is no wonder, then, that Jerome perceived an association here not with the completed harvest, but with the national founding.  This is, after all, something of a foundational moment for the Church.  I see the argument that no, the Church was founded when the Twelve were first chosen, but I would respectfully disagree.  Its leaders were in training from that time, certainly, but this is a foundational moment.  The declaration Jesus made in regard to awaiting this day gives grounds for such an understanding.  As Luke reminds us, “He commanded them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for what the Father had promised,” the baptizing with the Holy Spirit.  And why?  Because, “You shall become My witnesses” to all the earth (Ac 1:4-8).

Previously they had received instruction, they had learned from the best.  They had been given training exercises.  They had been commissioned, though I would have to say that in naming them as Apostles, Jesus had not, so far as we know, explained the significance of having done so.  Oh, we’re messengers?  Okay.  Well, He sent the seventy out.  Were they all not messengers?  Yes, but only twelve were Apostles.  Who knows?  Perhaps they had raised the question with Him.  They did seem to sense that theirs was a leadership role of some sort, but the details were never particularly clear.  Nor, for all that, had their understanding of His teaching ever been particularly clear.  But now?  Now, suddenly, there was clarity.  All those prior lessons suddenly clicked, because atop all the other excitement of this day, they now had the Spirit abiding, indwelling, informing, reminding, instructing.

Something of an aside, but as I write that, the parallels to what folks expect to obtain through AI developments are rather hard to miss.  I’ve watched a few of my coworkers, as they become absorbed by AI, and I see how, as they are editing code, the tools are leaping out ahead, suggesting how they might want to complete the line.  It’s impressive in its way.  It’s disturbing as well, and particularly for its attempt to mimic how the Holy Spirit works with our spirit in providing guidance, wisdom, and so on.  But of course, He is no artificial intelligence, but True Intelligence, and His source is not some digested mass of words gleaned from sources no longer recalled and which may or may not be accurate.  No, His source is divine omnipotence.  His source is the font from which Scripture was poured forth.  And His knowledge is much more sure.

Back to my thread, though.  There is, I believe, this aspect of a new people being established, and in that aspect, we can indeed see the day being brought to fulfillment.  But it’s not the harvest, it’s the nation.  Israel as a nation was set as a type.  It is the symbol, not the thing symbolized.  And so, the Church came to recognize itself as the true Israel, in no small part on the basis of Paul’s explanation of that very connection.  You are grafted in.  The true Israelite is he who believes by faith, as Abraham did.  It’s not about genealogies.  It’s not about national identities, not with Israel, not with England, not with America.  National identities are nothing.  But, as Augustine expressed, there are effectively two cities, two nations.  There are the people of God, and there’s everybody else.  But what demarks the people of God?  As with Israel, so with them:  It is His establishing of covenanted relationship.  “I will be their God, and they shall be My people.”  It rests on nothing else.

This nation, having been founded upon His word, knows Him as their only true Lord.  He may (and does) appoint leaders, undershepherds to serve as He directs.  He may (and does) depose such leaders, should they prove rebellious or unreliable.  But the nation of the reborn is His nation.  He is Lord.  He has given His word, His covenanted terms.  He has given His law, the high law of love.  He has given His ordinances, by which it shall be known that we are His.  And He has given purpose.  The Church, through all ages, has this task of pursuing its evangelical mission.  “You shall be My witnesses.”  That has never ceased to be our calling.

So, back to my question.  Is there intent of declaring Pentecost fulfilled?  As I hope I have shown, in regard to the harvest being complete, no, we cannot reach any such conclusion.  But as to the true establishing of God’s true people?  Yes, I believe we can.  What the Old Covenant had established in type, the New has established in antitype.  It is not as yet in full fruition, certainly, for His kingdom continues to expand and add to its populace.  As somebody once observed, that kingdom never grows smaller, whatever the current state of the church may appear to indicate.  How could it?  Its every citizen is eternal.  There can only be increase.

There is a further aspect of this observance of the Pentecost feast which I would bring before us.  As with all the feasts, it was of course a day to cease from one’s labors and to express one’s gratitude to God.  This was especially so on Pentecost with its dual associations, both with God’s sustaining provision of the harvest, and with God’s establishing provision of the Law and the covenant.  As such, the ISBE informs us, this was to be a joyful day, a day of liberality towards all, and especially as it could be shown to those in need.  It was, then, ‘a festival of good cheer.’  As the Church became more established and developed its own framework of ceremonies and rituals, this became a day for baptisms, always a joyful occasion both for the baptized and those who witness it.  But it also served to mark a change in practice.  Those who observe a Lenten season leasing into Easter, or Resurrection Day observances spend that period in practices of repentance and self-denial.  But come Pentecost, there is a shift to joyfulness, to times of prayer, communion, and feasting.

A question for us, given God’s choice of this festal day to serve as the landmark for the establishing of His Church, I think it fitting to ask how this should be observed in the church today, in our era?  As Protestants, we don’t go in much for ritualized observance.  We certainly have it, though we are careful to distance it from the ritual of the Roman Catholics.  We don’t do Lent, we don’t do Ash Wednesday.  But you’ll find observances of Maundy Thursday, though I don’t know how many, even of those who observe, could give sound expression to the reason or the meaning.  We have our Easter services, Sunrise and otherwise.  We have Christmas Eve observances, perhaps the careful march of weeks leading up to that day.  And however loosely it may be defined, there is certainly a liturgical order to the proceedings of any given Sunday service.  But I don’t see anything touching on the day of Pentecost.  Even in the Pentecostal church in which I began, I don’t recall it getting much attention.

There are many such events in the calendar year as concerns significant points in the history of the church, and yet, they go largely unnoted and unnoticed.  Let me suggest, however, that we could stand to consider that God Himself laid out a calendar of meaningful observances for His people.  Perhaps we have removed more than we ought in seeking to lay aside the excesses of the papists.  At bare minimum, let me suggest to you that our every gathering together for worship ought to reflect some of this joyful awareness of God’s provision.  When we break bread, whether in fellowship together, at family meals, or even alone with ourselves, we habitually say a word of grace, thanking God for supplying our needs yet again.  But it’s often almost mindless, an afterthought.  Worse, it can become more of a chore, something we’ve got to get through in order that we may get on with eating.  It’s an obstacle to our satisfaction rather than a celebration of the supplier of the means by which we are satisfied.  Thus, we become more enamored of the idea that all that we have, we have by our own industriousness.  But industriousness never ensured outcome.  We could perhaps ensure a negative result by refusing to do anything towards our own upkeep, but however hard we may labor, however much effort we may put into maintaining physical health and well-being, the outcome remains in the Lord’s hands.  He provides, else there is no provision.  That’s the reality of the case.

So, certainly, in our daily practice there is room to retain something of the spirit of this festal day.  But there are also occasions for increased awareness, increased purposefulness in pursuing this joyful attitude.  Honestly, what day could not be made better by a joyful attitude?  What, after all, has your sourness gained for you besides ulcer and headache?  No, “A joyful heart is good medicine” (Pr 17:22).  And note the counterpoint well.  “A broken spirit dries up the bones.”  Now, I don’t think we need to try and turn this into some sort of medical treatise.  It was never intended as such.  It is simple observation of experience.  How much better the day faced in glad anticipation of seeing what God may do, than the day entered into with dread of what coworker or cohabiter may do.

Bring it to our gathering together for worship.  Why await a specific Sunday to rejoice in the Lord?  As the song says, “Rejoice in the Lord always!”  And the song is doing nothing more than repeating Paul’s advice.  “And again I say, Rejoice!” (Php 4:4).  And that, from a prison cell in Rome, while facing trial before Nero; life in the balance.  Rejoice!  God’s in control, and He loves you.  This was a man who lived the reality of his doctrine, recognizing that even here, even in this, God is working all things together for good towards those who love Him, called by His choice to call (Ro 8:28).

Oh!  How joyful we would become if we would exit the mindset of, “I deserve this,” or worse, “I deserve better!”  We looked, last week, at contentment as we finished our review of Hebrews.  “Let your character be free from the love of money, content with what you have, for He Himself said, ‘I will never desert nor forsake you’” (Heb 13:5).  This is the promise of Pentecost, fulfilled in the sending of the Holy Spirit to indwell every believer, imparting such gifts as He sees fit, in the wisdom of the Triune Godhead, to give to each individual, and all for the good of the whole.  In what day do we not have good reason to celebrate the rich provision of our Lord?  He is here.  He is with us.  Whatever it is that has you down, and to be sure, such things will come, remember this!  He is with you.  He has you in His hands.  Whatever is happening, and whoever may be causing it in the immediate sense, He is working something good in you and for you.  Therefore, be anxious for nothing (Mt 6:25-34), but in all things rejoice.  Let every day be a celebration of the gift of God’s rich provision.  Let every church service resound with the earnest expression of thanksgiving for all that God has done and is doing.  And yes, if God so leads, let us set apart particular days in our calendar to truly celebrate the goodness of our God.

There is something more I would say about this occasion we are observing, before I move on.  If I am correct that the aspect of this feast being fulfilled on that day two thousand or so years ago, it is not the harvest that is fulfilled, but the law and the covenant.  These, as I have noted, were additions to the original intent.  Whether or not the Law was actually given fifty days after that first Passover in Egypt, I don’t know as we could say with certainty.  But looking at those texts in which Moses lays out the schedule of feasts, there is nothing to suggest association with law or covenant.  Yet, later generations decided to make that association, and the practice became tradition.  And behold!  God was not, in this case offended by it.  It was not an adopting of pagan practices, though who knows but what other religions of the period had similar aspects.  Did the Babylonians celebrate the giving of the law by Hammurabi?  It’s certainly well enough known.  Did they associate their nationhood with their god?  Rome had a sense of that in the myths of her founding.  But whatever they may have drawn from in adding these traditions, there was a positive purpose to it, in giving greater cause to celebrate God with increased awareness of His provision.  It was in keeping with the original intent.

One wants to be careful with this.  The issue of strange fire remains, and I don’t imagine the penalty for playing fast and loose with the forms of worship have lessened since then.  God, after all, does not change.  Holiness remains holy.  But here is a case where it seems He was pleased to accept the added symbolism and make use of it to demonstrate His glory in fulfilling even this added significance.  I could accept that the same was happening at the festival of lights, when Jesus attended and, being present, proclaimed, “I AM the Light.”  Does this mean He intended to make Hanukkah official?  No.  But neither did He reject it, as He did the marketplace of animals in the temple courts.  One sought to honor God, the other to profit off of Him.  One was worship.  The other was worldliness.  There’s a difference.  But more, it seems to me that on both these occasions, it is God teaching in His usual fashion, drawing from the stuff of our experience to lift our thoughts heavenward.  Yes, I see what you are celebrating here.  Do you?  Let me show you.

I am of a mind to say the same applies to the Christian observance of Easter and Christmas.  Yes, we could get all caught up in how these were taking from worldly, pagan practices, trying to make Christianity more acceptable to a heathen world.  But, then, there are those who observe that it is just as likely that the situation was actually reversed.  I have often enough made a related point in these notes of mine.  If Satan seeks to set up counterfeit religions, of course they’re going to appear similar to the real faith.  Diverge too much and who would believe?  We are, after all, made in God’s image whether we acknowledge that reality or not.  There is within us that which knows God, however hard we may seek to suppress that knowledge.  If the practice was just plain off, I think even the pagan would tend to notice.  Yes, I can think of exceptions, certainly.  I can also think of periods when those who knew God fell into practicing those same exceptions.  Moloch comes to mind.  And there we see the sinfulness of sin exposed at its worst. 

But I want to come back around to these positive examples, when God has accepted and made use of these practices which, though not specifically ordained and endorsed, are intended to reflect His true glory.  Christmas and Easter, ignoring the commercialized aspects of worldly participation in them, are fully focused on glorifying God, and drawing us up to a place of greater gratitude, of greater awareness of the full wonder of what He has done.  Here is an annual marking out of the wonder that God deigned to be born a helpless, and by all accounts rather poor child; to come live among us as one of us.  And here is a day to truly rejoice in the single most key event in all history, the resurrection of our Lord.  We will see, as we proceed into this marvelous book, just how central that event was to the message of the Church.  We will also, I hope, see how central it must remain.  The Church, apart from Jesus, born to a virgin, sinless at His death, and resurrected into new life by the power of the Holy Spirit, is less than nothing.  It is, apart from these things, a false hope still leading only to death.  But where the observance of these days, even if they have been added without clear Scriptural basis, are truly occasions for increased awareness of God’s daily involvement in rescuing His people, where there is cause for joy and thanksgiving not only given, but realized?  I think God is willing and able to use such observances to His good ends, and to fulfill that which they celebrate, if we do not see those events as already fulfilled.  God is best pleased, I should think, when His people are best pleased in Him.

The Arrival (03/30/26-03/31/26)

We are met with two phenomena by which the coming of the Holy Spirit is made known.  First there is the sound of wind, then the appearance of fire.  Bearing in mind that Pentecost observances had put them in remembrance of the events at Mount Sinai when Moses received the tablets of the covenant, it follows that they would likely be quite attuned to these particular signs.  I should note that the giving of the Law was not the only occasion to which their thoughts might turn, but it would be at the forefront of their thoughts.  We learn from Exodus 19:18 that the LORD descended upon Mount Sinai in fire, and in that case, it seems, not just the appearance of fire, but actual fire.  So, at His presence, the mountain was cloaked in smoke.  Your first imagined picture might be something like a volcano erupting in smoke and ash, but that’s not it.  This is a mountain ‘cloaked in smoke,’ not belching ash.  That said, something akin to the scenes we see from Iceland during an eruption, smoke ascending and filled with flashes of lightning, might fit the presence of the Lord.

We could turn, as well, to His presence in the camp as Israel came forth from Egypt and began her passage through the wilderness.  A pillar of smoke by day, fire by night, and one has to presume that such a pillar had somewhat of the appearance, if not the roar of a wind, as one might expect a whirlwind or a tornado to do.  But we are not told of a sound, only the presence of this wondrous column, and its clear purpose of indicating the LORD’s presence and direction.

More directly, we might also contemplate the occasion of Elijah’s visitation as he hid away from Ahab and Jezebel.  There he was, holed up in his cave on the mountainside, feeling all but abandoned, the last believer in all Israel.  And as he hid away on Mount Horeb, the angel of the Lord came and ministered to his weakness, but eventually, it seems, enough was enough, and God spoke.  “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1Ki 19:5-9).  Elijah recounted his woes, and in response was told, “Go stand on the mountain before the LORD,” and doing so, the LORD was in fact passing by.  The evidence?  Wind was sweeping the mountains, so strong as to rip rocks from their sides and break them up.  The earth quaked at the coming of the LORD, again reminiscent of the experience on Mount Sinai.  And then, fire; fire and ‘a sound of a gentle blowing.’  And the question repeated.  “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1Ki 19:11-13).  Fire, wind, and the earth atremble; these mark the presence of the Creator amidst His creation.

Ezekiel encounters a similar thing in vision; a north wind blowing, and a cloud bright at its bounds, and flashing with internal fires (Eze 1:4).  God was coming to the scene.  And He comes, as always, with purpose.  We could add, given Peter’s notice of John’s baptism as they sought to replace Judas, that his message might have come to mind.  “I baptize you with water, but He who is coming will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire” (Mt 3:11).  All of these thoughts may have been running through their minds, if in fact they were given time to think at all.  Suffice to say that a wind that did not blow things down and a fire that did not consume, nor it seems even warm the room, had to tell them something.  God is here.  They certainly knew Moses’ story well enough.  Here was that same fire which did not consume the bush as it burned.  It was just there.  Perhaps they had wondered at that when they heard the story.  Now they knew.

Okay, but why wind and why fire?  Each of these, of course, represents most directly forces of nature over which man has limited control, and it would have been far more limited in that day.  Even now, though, a fire that reaches a certain stage amidst a fuel-rich environment is all but unstoppable by the arts of man.  If it wants to burn, it’s going to burn.  And if a hurricane blows through, the only recourse is to get out of its path.  It will destroy what it will destroy.  A tornado is perhaps even more traumatic because its path is so seemingly random, and it could well be that one house is ripped away and another right next door practically untouched.  You can’t control it.  You can’t really combat it.  You can only seek to be out of harm’s way by removing yourself from its vicinity.

But there are other associations to be aware of as well.  Fausset’s as usual, is particularly helpful in bringing to attention some of the symbolic uses of wind and fire in Scripture.  There, we learn that the north wind has association with cleansing, the south with comfort, and then the east wind had its idea of ‘empty violence.’  It is the unpredictably destructive wind of the region, and it would have been predominant during this period of the year, sweeping across the deserts, become exceedingly arid.  It might not have much to offer in terms of helping crops to grow, but at harvest, so long as the winds did not become too high, too violent, they could assuredly help.  I think of the tasks of harvesting corn and hay from the lands around us where I grew up.  Once the hay had been cut, it needed to dry.  A rainy season would be as counterproductive to that part of the cycle, as arid desert winds would have been during the growing season.  Growth requires water and sun.  Harvest requires sun to dry, and wind to separate away the chaff.  As the Word says, to everything there is a season (Ecc 3:1-2).  There’s a word with a certain poignancy, no?  A time for birth, a time to die, a time to plant, a time to uproot.  Death may be foreign to the order of heaven, but here, where sin has entered, it is part of the cycle, and for those of us who are of God’s harvest, it’s a necessary component of being fit for His kingdom.  This body of flesh must pass away and be replaced with a body fit for eternity.

So, let us note that this potential for rushing gusts of wind was inherent in the season.  And, if we assume they are again in the upper room, it’s not as though there would have been much to stop such a wind from filling the house.  It’s not like they had windows of glass to keep it out.  And honestly, watch standard hurricane preparations and you know, windows of glass were unlikely to keep such a wind out anyway.  But pay attention here.  It was not wind that filled the house, but sound.  It was ‘like a violent, rushing wind,’ such as would naturally push all before it.  I think of our walks around the neighborhood on a blustery day such as is common here in spring and fall.  You walk against that wind and when it gets up it will assuredly alter your pace, quite likely stop you in your tracks until it eases.  Or read of the days of ship and sail, when a hurricane blew across the ocean.  What was there for the captain to do but run that ship before the wind and pray?  We will see the very thing towards the end of this book, as Paul makes his way to Rome at speeds unexpected.

But here, no pressure of wind, no tossing of the furnishings, not even notice of a curtain whipping in the breeze.  There is only the sound.  It’s an announcement as bold as trumpets blown to announce the coming of the King.  It may not be so brash, but the very fact of its noise without the accompanying visible signs of such a mighty blowing wind?  That’s going to get your attention!  I think back to the discussion Jesus had with Nicodemus, something of which those in the room had learned, even if they were not there to join the conversation.  “The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it.  But you don’t know where it comes from and you don’t know where it is going.  Just so, everyone born of the Spirit” (Jn 3:8).  And if so for those born of the Spirit, would it not stand to reason that it is even more the case for the Spirit Himself?  But He comes not with destructive force to wipe away the believer from the face of the earth, but the sound.

We think of spirits as insubstantial things that pass silently along, not so much as disturbing a dust mote by their movements because they are not really of this plane of existence.  But consider.  This is the Presence of God.  He is Spirit, but He is also the cause of physics.  If He comes to a place, do you not suppose that there would be a displacement of sorts?  Do you think He could be present in so visceral and immediate a sense and not have impact on His surroundings?  He is power!  Think of the impact a bomb has.  The bulk of its destructive power lies in the wave of air moved by its sudden intrusion into the atmosphere.  There is suddenly much more volume and the laws of physics require that it must expand, and as rapidly as possible.  But in this case, the reaction is not a fleeing away of the atmosphere.  Not this time.  Yet, there is a sound, and it is loud.  The arrival of power has been announced.  God is in the house, and it cannot be that those present will take notice.

But remember the significance.  The north wind comes to cleanse, and thus it is with the arrival of the Holy Spirit.  It was so in this room on a grand scale.  It is so in the life of each individual believer, as the Holy Spirit arrives within, cleansing the heart and mind so as to be able to receive the Gospel in its full, life-giving purpose.  And with that, the wind swings to the south, bringing comfort.  It is well with my soul.  Even so, it is well.  Let the east wind come.  Let it do what it will.  The Lord my God is with me, and will not forsake me.  I am His, and He does not lose what is His.  I am held secure in the fortress of His mighty, unopposable hands.

Lord, thank You for that assurance.  Seeing the hurt in my beloved wife, and the pain and trial we are going through at present; having that passage from Ecclesiastes come back to mind this morning; there are things there I would as soon not have to contemplate.  And yet, they are natural in the course of life on this earth, and even at their worst do no more than draw us nearer to home.  Father, grant us both the grace to face these trials.  Grant us the peace, the equanimity, to allow that Your will be done, however that may lead.  For my part, I pray that You would show me how to respond, how to support, and how also to remove any excessive ties.  It’s a poor analogy, I know, but I recall how strongly I held to hope for our dog Sandy when he was growing old and ready to pack it in.  Don’t let me, in my sentimentality and attachment, be a hindrance to my beloved when You call.  And I pray, whether this is the time or no, that You would minister to her broken heart.  I hear the anguish.  I see the darkened aspect.  Honestly, I recoil from it as from a destructive force, for so it seems to me.  I have growing concerns for her, given some of her beliefs and practices of recent years.  It all appears to me quite contrary to instruction, but You know her.  I remain as confident as I can be that You have her.  Bring her to peace.  Restore joy.  Do what You must, and grant me the presence of mind to walk with her through whatever that process may require of us both.  Nevertheless, Lord.  That seems to be my guiding word right now.  Nevertheless.  Thy will be done.  In her.  In me.  In all things.  Thy will be done.

Now let us turn to the matter of that which was like fire but was not.  Why fire?  Fire serves primarily as a purifying agent, at least in terms of its symbolism.  It is a marker of holiness.  Thus, if we may identify one constant in the appearances of God recounted in Scripture, it is that of fire.  Moses meets God in a burning bush.  Now, a bush on fire in the arid plains might not be so shocking a thing, but one on fire and yet not burnt up?  That will get your attention.  One imagines this bush still had green leaves upon it even as the flames flickered upon its branches.  Something extraordinary is happening here.  The pillar of smoke and fire that accompanied Israel is again something to consider.  Here is a column of burning air, and yet nothing is said of it being unapproachable for its heat.  There is no sense that anything that came close to it burst into flame.  For all that, the fires that cloaked Mount Sinai were not such that Moses and Joshua were burnt alive when they remained in the midst of that fire for days on end.  We could consider other cases as well, such as those prophets given a glimpse of the heavenly throne and Him Who sits upon it.  Fire indicates the presence of God because fire indicates the intrusion of the truly holy into a world which is distinctly unholy.

That fire purifies.  The question for each individual is how that purification shall proceed.  For those whom God calls His own, fire comes to consume their offerings, having cleansed them; and the offerings having been received, the offerer is received as well.  For the ungodly, however, fire purifies by eradication.  So, on the one hand, we have occasions such as Elijah’s sacrifice as he challenged the priest of Baal in order to prove before the sight of all which god was real and which false.  And on that occasion, the fire came out from the altar and consumed his sacrifice.  Recall that not only had Elijah not bothered to even light the fire on the altar he had erected, he even dug a trench around it and filled it with water.  And still, that fire came and consumed his offering.  God touched down.

Then, as counterpoint, we have the case of Abihu and Nadab, sons of the first high priest, who saw fit to play fast and loose with their duties.  They were offering incense by fire, but not in accordance with the instruction given them by God through Moses.  They decided to do things their own way.  Perhaps they figured that since they were anointed priests they could perform their duties as they saw fit and God would bless them for it.  We are not told that they were intentionally corrupting the temple order.  We are not told that their intentions in undertaking this action were from malicious opposition to the duties thrust upon them.  Yet, the fire did not come to consume their offerings.  The fire came and consumed them, quite literally.  It’s still holiness come down, but this time, come down in affronted wrath.  How dare you!  Purity consumes sin.

Let me repeat that.  Purity consumes sin.  This was something the Pharisees had rather reversed in their practice, the which Jesus had to try and set to rights.  We looked at this in last week’s sermon.  The Pharisees were very upset.  They had seen some of His disciples eating without having gone through all the ceremonial ablutions which were to come first, according to their added regulations (Mk 7:1).  But Jesus undertook to set the record straight, at least among His own.  What is outside a man cannot defile him.  It’s what’s inside him that needs dealing with (Mk 7:15).  Ritual never once made any sinner clean.  That requires the inner working of the Holy Spirit.  That requires the cleansing touch of the refiner’s fire, burning away the dross of sin hidden within.  Holy fire consumes sin.  Sin cannot consume holiness.  Or take John’s wording.  “Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it” (Jn 1:5).  With possible exception for the effects of a black hole, one cannot state the obverse and expect it to hold true.  Darkness simply does not appear in the midst of light.  Looking out upon a sunny day, one will not find some spot in the sky which is devoid of the sun’s rays.  Light overcomes darkness.   Holiness overcomes sin.  The question is not what happens to sin in the presence of holiness, but what happens to the sinner?  Where the Holy Spirit is working within, the sinner is made a saint, the process of purification ongoing in preparation for his being received into heaven.  For the reprobate, the sinner being so wholly identified with his sin, the overcoming of sin must in the end overcome the reprobate entirely.  So it was with Pharaoh.  So it was with Judas.  So it is with every man, woman, or demon who sets himself against holy God.

But here comes that fire, spreading through the room in which the disciples are gathered.  Yet, like the roaring sound of the wind before it, the usual effects are not felt.  There is no heat.  The curtains that were unmoved by any gust as that roaring sound filled the place are not now sending up tendrils of smoke.  The beams of the ceiling are not smoldering, nor the hair on their heads burning away as those tendrils of flame settle upon them all.  Indeed, most spectacularly, there does not appear the slightest note of alarm in this accounting.  Granted, it’s in retrospect, and the outcome was so wonderful as to wash away any such alarm.  But still, I think there would be the memory of how one felt as this scene first unfolded.  Fire settled upon them, not just touching them for a flickering moment, but resting on each one.  It’s not one flame bouncing from person to person, but a distribution touching each and every one.  Apostles are not singled out for this work, either.  From first to last, every person present was touched, rested upon.

Come back to the significance of that fire.  And let me add one more piece to the mix.  From the outset of the tabernacle’s construction, holy fire was to burn upon the altar continuously, serving as a visible indication of continual worship.  I recall those years when my former church shared the temple of a Jewish synagogue – a beautiful space, constructed to bring one to mind of the ark.  I was one tasked to come in late Saturday night, after the Jewish Sabbath was ended, and set up our equipment for Sunday.  And, being a synagogue, there was an alcove at the back of the platform in which the Torah was kept.  And above it was a low-wattage bulb nestled in a sconce sculpted to resemble flame.  This light was never to be turned off.  I’m not sure what happened if the bulb burned out, or if it ever did.  But I will tell you this.  When it came time to turn out all other lights and go home, there was a real sense of presence in that room.  To be in that space, alone, with no light apart from that one bulb above the altar, such as it was, the ceiling above almost like arms enfolding, was to sense the presence of God in a most special way.  This was a holy place, and I was privileged to be in it.

Let that leak back into the scene before us.  Fire comes to rest upon each individual in that room; fire, the visible mark of continual worship; fire, the evidence of God’s acceptance of the sacrifice.  It seems clear enough that here, it is those gathered in that room who are the acceptable sacrifice, and the altar as well.  This is a new temple established, a temple not built by human hands, indeed not defined by any building apart from the bodies God had built for His people.  His people are the temple.  Paul makes that explicit in his letters.   “Don’t you realize that you are a temple of God?  The Holy Spirit dwells in you!” (1Co 3:16).  Add this from Romans.  “Present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship” (Ro 12:1).  And then come to 2 Corinthians as he lays out the impact of this service.  As we present ourselves in sacrifice, there is an aroma which rises to heaven, “For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.  To the one, we are an aroma of death to death.  To the other we are an aroma of life to life.  Who is adequate for such things?” (2Co 2:16).  Holiness is deadly to the perishing, marking the end of the road for them.  It is the stench of death come to the dying.  But to those being saved, it is the first whiff of life, a life to be rendered eternal by the purifying work of the Holy Spirit, undertaken at the request of Christ our Savior, upon those given Him as a gift by the Almighty Father.  Glory be to His name!

Thank You, Lord, for setting me among the sanctified, for whom the fire of Your holiness cleanses and brings life. May I never take it lightly, never lose sight of the wonder.  May Your fire never go out in me, for I am Yours.  May I bring You, somehow, something of delight.

The Experience (04/01/26)

As we have seen, these events were not merely an occasion for excitement and goosebumps.  God was not putting on a show.  He was making an announcement.  He was making His presence manifest, and not just His presence, but His acceptance.  This is especially clear in the resting of those tongues as of fire upon each one in that room.  Yes, your sacrifice is received.  Your offering of yourselves is accepted.  We might also account it a declaration of sanctification; both in the sense of being cleansed of sin, and of being set apart.  Recall the purpose Jesus had declared in regard to this moment.  “You shall be My witnesses” (Ac 1:8).  But you shall not witness solely by your own lights.  Behold, I am with you.  I am here.  And as evidence of this, we have the immediate result.  He not only gave them the words to speak, assuring that their testimony would be true, He even gave them the language in which to speak those words, empowering them to be heard and understood.

All of this was, to be sure, amazing.  There’s a reason they’re still talking about it years later as Luke gathers data for his book.  If we are correct in supposing that Philip the Evangelist was one of his primary sources for these pre-Pauline events, then perhaps we can sense some of the excitement in that room from this brief description.  This was a big deal!  This was a once in a lifetime experience.  They might speak in tongues again.  They would certainly have further experience of the Holy Spirit working in and through them.  But this!  This was something special, something unique.  Even on those other occasions where we see the kingdom’s expansion marked by the imparting of tongues to those newly entered into it, we don’t hear of a repeat of the wind and the fire.  This group was special in that regard, unique so far as we know.  And there was a reason for it.  They needed to know, and would need to know, with an assurance beyond that of those to come, that God is here and His promises are certain.

This continues to be true even to our own day.  God is here.  He is involved in all that transpires around us.  His word is sure, and His promise certain.  And lo!  He is with us.  Even to the end of the age He is with us.  And He is working in all things, and in all things, He is working that which is to our good.  And that, promised to those who love Him, includes even the fact that we have come to love Him; even our faith a gift of God.  This is the testimony of Scripture.  It must then be the testimony of every believer, for in whom have we believed, but in Him of whom it is written, and by whom it is written?

There are two quick points I wish to make in regard to this event.  First and foremost, it must be observed that this was not a manufactured event.  There was no set up, no stirring of the senses in preparation to get a response.  There was no worship team playing in the background.  There was no incense filling the room.  There was no stirring oratory seeking to create an atmosphere for miracles.  This did not happen by any machination or orchestration of man.  It just happened.  God came.  If there was any matter of preparation at all it was simply this:  They were all together as one, and we may assume that, being thus gathered, they were in fact, as had been their custom, devoting themselves to prayer.  And God answered.  He answered beyond anything they could have anticipated, in ways they had no priors by which to expect.  This was, then, a true move of God, undertaken because He had determined this was the time, and these were the people.

I want us therefore to be exceedingly careful of stage setting, of trying to stir up a happening of some sort.  Perhaps it is the distinction between revival and revivalism.  Revivalism rests too much upon the arts of the minister and his team, leans too hard on emotionalism.  Revival rests with God.  It cannot be called forth, does not come upon demand.  It just happens.  As I tend to do, I think of that revival that shifted history in Northampton when Jonathan Edwards was pastor there.  Here was a man by all accounts plainspoken, though erudite.  He was far more a thinker and a writer, I would say, than a speaker.  I am given to understand that his delivery was monotone, without the flourishes and dynamics of the sort of preachers we would account dynamic and even fiery.  None of that.  Here was his sermon, written out in fine hand, and he simply read it forth at length.  And the powerful word of God made clear brought change in that place.  They didn’t put together a program for outreach to the community.  The community came in, dragged in by the Spirit.  They didn’t put on any sort of event to attract outsiders.  It was just the word of God preached clearly and plainly.

That leads me to my second point.  We may not have cause to try and create an atmosphere for miracles, but at the same time, I think we would do well to be more prepared to see God move, to have a preparedness to accept the unexpected.  When God moves, it’s entirely probable that things will not happen according to our prior experience, or within the bounds of what is comfortably familiar.  There may be inexplicable manifestations.  It may get loud or excited.  We can’t simply write it off, insisting that God just doesn’t do such things anymore.   On what basis shall we say that?  Have we some published notice that God has changed?  Is there something in Scripture which says plainly that such events are solely for this one time, to establish the Church as the vehicle by which God intends to move forward? I get the concerns.  Certainly, if we take these things as somehow the means of establishing new doctrines, yes, we have a problem.  If every word or vision from God is seen as necessarily implying such foundational purposes, then I would have to agree that their function is complete and therefore their operation is no more.  But we have examples, even in the course of Acts of prophetic words that have nothing to do with establishing doctrine, only forewarning of what lies ahead.  For all that, the larger part of what the Old Testament prophets wrote was not establishing new doctrine, but simply applying that doctrine already established.

So, let us not, in our oh-so-rational modern mindset, be too quick to discount the supernatural.  Nor let us be so quick to dismiss those who lay claim to such experiences.  Yes, there is much that passes itself off as hearing from God but is not.  That has ever been so and ever shall be.  But we are called to discern, not to reject wholesale.  We are called to test, not simply toss.  Be ready for the unexpected.  Be prepared to recognize God on the move.  It may not be in spectacle such as we see here.  It may be in quiet things.  It may be even in the ordinary events of the day.  Simply remembering that there is no such thing as coincidence, and truly believing it, might go far in altering how you view your day.  If God is in it, it is not an annoyance, not an attack to be weathered.  It is God in action, and we do well to pay heed to what He is doing, to learn from His activity and humbly seek our part in what is transpiring.  Do Thou, Lord, position me as You would have me, and fill me with the word to speak, the action to take, the will to serve.  That, I think, is our only proper response, our only proper attitude towards the day, every day.  Lord, let it be my attitude today.

The Expression (04/02/26)

Okay.  We come to the matter of speaking in other tongues.  For some, that will immediately bring to mind the practice as it is generally found today amongst those churches which pursue a more Pentecostal or Charismatic form of practice.  In most cases, at least from my experience, this is little more than ecstatic utterance, words which neither speaker nor hearer understand.  This is not a new issue, certainly.  Paul undertook to correct similar practices in Corinth.  Make sure, he said, that there is one to interpret, that all may be edified.  Otherwise, the practice is pointless, and verges on simply showing off.

That is quite clearly not what is happening in the scene before us.  As we move to the next portion of the text, we will be told plainly that those outside who heard all this talk were hearing it in their own languages.  We are not told whether those speaking had any sense of what it was they had been given to speak, but it was quite clearly comprehensible language.  It was not the sort of nonsense-syllable ecstatic expression that we tend to experience and find identified with speaking in tongues.  Oh, they will insist, we are speaking in the language of heaven!  Really?  I mean, it can’t be dismissed out of hand, but what would be the purpose?  Who is it who is going to be edified by this?  You?  No.  You don’t know what you’re saying.  Me?  No.  I don’t know either.  Angels?  I feel certain they already know far more.  When we encounter this in its Scriptural form, it strikes me that it is always with intent to inform.

I will accept that possibly the conversion of Cornelius and his family present an exception.  We are not told of any foreigners outside understanding their words on that occasion, and as to other languages that they wouldn’t know but Peter and his companions would, what would those be, exactly?  Likewise that later occasion, as the Gospel began to expand into the Gentile regions.  There, as here, the sudden capacity for some foreign language or other served to indicate that the Holy Spirit was involved in events, and approved of them.  There is something to be understood about this which will not be evident to the typical believer today.  Thayer makes the point for us, considering the word used to describe this event, apophthengomai.  To the Hebrew mind, the tongue was the sole instrument of Holy Spirit inspired expression.  Coming from a people with a strong oral tradition, that would hardly be a surprising perspective.  But apparently, the written word did not carry quite the same force with them.  It could make one wonder how they would have responded to Moses coming down with the tablets of the covenant had they not first heard the thunderous voice of God before he went up on Mount Sinai to receive them.  But there is that background to be understood as we see what’s happening here, and also in those other marker occasions covered in Acts.  If they are speaking thus, it is clear that the Holy Spirit is indeed giving them utterance.  It is not, in effect, them speaking, but the Spirit speaking through them.

Perhaps you have encountered such moments in your own spiritual travels, times when you spoke something that did not come of premeditated thought, but just arose on your tongue.  I’m not talking about thoughtless words here.  Those are as likely to do harm as to offer insight.  But there are times when you may be discussing something of spiritual import with a brother or sister, and you make some statement, likely enough, something you will barely recall, if at all.  And yet, it has profound impact on the one to whom you are talking.  It might be some tossed off comment made in the course of a sermon, or in the course of teaching a class.  It may be a simple statement that seemed so obvious to you as to seem trite, and yet was received as a thing most profound and impactful.

It is not a matter of spoken words, certainly, but I think those times when I find myself pursuing thoughts I had not considered in these notes, when things flow out of me which I had not expected in any way to be pursuing, given the points I had gathered for exploration.  That’s not quite the same, I guess, but it’s a similar thing.  Where are these thoughts coming from?  If I suppose them to simply be the outworking of my own cleverness, I miss what’s happening, and frankly, wildly overestimate my own brilliance.  But if I recognize that hey, I came here to learn from my God, and He has set the lesson plan, chosen to direct me elsewhere than where I thought we were going this morning?  Then, something wonderful transpires.  Then, I may find myself surprised by some unexpected insight that’s going to shift things in me.

That’s a rather lengthy diversion in itself, but my point is simply this.  There are moments of what we may recognize as inspired expression.  They arise on various occasions, not just in the midst of some church service, or some occasion when we’re trying to be spiritual.  And they may not involve foreign languages, just foreign concepts, at least foreign to our usual thinking.  It may show up in the way we discover we have just the right word to say to help another grow.  It may be the way the Scriptures we have read so many times suddenly open up before us with new meaning.  But the purpose is ever and always to edify, to build up, to grow.

I recall talking with somebody awhile back with whom I had served for a season as elder, and he spoke of something I had said in the course of one of our meetings which had this sort of profound impact on him.  I don’t think either of us recalled exactly what it was, this being so many years later.  But there was that sense of Spirit-influenced expression to it, something spoken that came of more than mere human reason and intellect.

Let us come back to our text.  They began to speak with other tongues.  Understand that these are qualitatively different languages.  And let it be understood that they are known languages, just not known to the speaker.  Now, in my opinion – and I must stress that it is no more than opinion – it seems likely to me that they did in fact know what they were saying, even if they did not know the language in which the words came out.  I would hope that for most people what they speak is first a thought in the mind, and only then, an expression of the tongue.  I think of those who are multilingual.  They must have, I would suppose, a native tongue, a language in which they speak to themselves in thought.  But they may be in a setting where the thought must express in another language.  And it may well be that they are sufficiently well-versed in that other language that it requires no particular exercise of mind to translate, nor to translate such response as may come back their way into their native language.  I don’t know as such bidirectional translation would have been particularly needful in this setting.  But I think of Paul out amongst the Gentiles in these various port cities.  To preach effectively, I suppose one could simply resort to Koine Greek, given that was more or less the language of the realm.  But conversation would be far more effective if both could speak the language of the hearer.  It cuts out a level of translation, and in doing so, hopefully renders understanding more readily attained.

What I am getting at is this.  If we can speak, but cannot understand, it is of limited value.  I may be able to preach a message, but I’ll have no idea whether I preached clearly, and no way to respond should those I preached to have questions or comments.  I think of the morning I was greeting one of our brothers from the DRC a few years back, and did so in what little bit of French I could recall.  Honestly, bonjour monsieur, comment t’allez vous, does not require a great deal to remember.  His face lit up to be addressed in his own language, and of course, he jumped to the conclusion that I must know French, and launched into a response.  But I had no idea what he said, and had to confess to my limitations.  You see my point, though.  To speak without understanding, without the capacity for real dialog, is insufficient to the purpose of the Gospel.  And frankly, it makes little difference whether we are talking different languages, different dialects, or simply different vocabularies.  Try to reach an unchurched individual when you’re using all the common Christianese phrases of church, and you convey no meaning.  Try to speak with assumptions of Christian perspective to one whose worldview is steeped in humanist thinking, and the same problem arises.  If we can’t speak to people in terms they understand, we cannot hope to make headway in presenting new ideas.  We have to meet them where they are, understand them as they are, and be able to translate this utterly new, qualitatively different worldview into concepts they can at least understand.  You don’t change a mind by forcing it sideways into uncharted territory.  You change a mind by leading it, concept by concept, from what it has known into what it needs to know.

So, we have these other tongues, these special utterances given under the instrumental influence of the Holy Spirit.  Here, both for those speaking, and for those hearing, was undeniable proof of God, Who has personal existence, being personally involved.  The profound nature of His revealing of Himself to those gathered in that room could hardly be missed, and being impossible to miss, it was equally impossible that it should pass without producing great change.  To him who has been met with profound evidence of the God who is present, great change is inevitable.  I don’t know as I can state it as a common thread through every conversion experience, but it was certainly an aspect of mine.  God came offering proof of Himself, and in short order, had supplied more than sufficient proof to make His case.  Yes, Lord, I see it!  You are real, and you are really here, looking for me!  What a wonder.  How profound the hymn hit, that next Sunday.  He lives!  He lives!  My Jesus lives in me!  Oh, the joy that flooded through me, the tears of wonder.  It’s all true.  And honestly, nothing has been the same since.  Yes, I still fall back into old patterns.  Yes, there is plenty yet to be changed.  But I am by no means the same man after that experience as I was before.

I want to look forward just a bit, okay, rather a distance, in our text for one further point.  The disciples, we are told, “were continually filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit” (Ac 13:52).  I bring this forward to connect it the the feast being celebrated as these events unfolded.  As we saw, Pentecost was intended as a joyful celebration, a recognition of God’s bountiful provision, a time for thankfulness and sharing.  We have too much, it seems to me, of the dour Christian about us.  We go about moaning about the sinful world all around us, and to be sure, the sinfulness of the world around us does weigh heavy.  But where is the realization of our state?  We bear within us Him who said, “I have overcome the world!”  Yes, trials will come.  Yes, we may often feel like oppressed Lot in the city of Sodom.  But if our response is simply to wallow in self-pity and despair for the sinfulness all around us, how does that help, exactly?  What hope do we offer by our anger and tears?

Is that, in fact, the call of God for the Christian?  There is a place for righteous anger, true, though it is never at the point of seeking to make the gospel known.  What was it we read in James last week?  “The anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God” (Jas 1:20).  I am mindful of the example we find in the Apostles, Paul particularly, but also John.  Met with adherents of other faiths, they did not revile and rebuke.  Paul, as I have observed often since noticing it, counted the priests of Artemis among his friends in Ephesus.  They were not the ones taking issue with him, nor he with them.  He merely presented them the truth, and presumably his hospitality, also accepting theirs in return.  That’s a far cry from the judgmental reaction I see today.  It may stay hidden away when contact is more direct, but there is something seething just below the surface in many a Christian which is not joy, and which, I fear, may not be the Holy Spirit either.  Walking the earth in a state of constant offense is not going to serve.  It will not gain a hearing for the Gospel, nor encourage the seeker after Truth, if there is such a one.  For all that, it will do the soul and spirit of the offended one no good either, only harm, as the stress of such a mindset takes its toll.

Here is guidance for us.  God determines what is acceptable.  It is true, most assuredly, as applies to our practices in gathered worship, and also to our times of private worship.  We are not granted to just do whatever we please and call it holy and acceptable.  We are not granted to establish our own rituals and schedules and insist He honor them.  No.  The lesson of Abihu and Nadab must resonate with us.  It is written for our benefit, after all, that we might learn from their negative example, and not find ourselves consumed by the offended wrath of a perfectly holy God.  At the same time, the reality that He determines what is acceptable must lead us to abandon our judgmental attitudes towards others whose practices may differ from our own.  Yes, if their doctrine is off and they still claim to be Christians, there is a place for correction, even stern correction, though ever in love and in hope of restoring them to the path of righteousness.  But if it’s a matter of practices, chances are it’s a matter of indifference, and the clear instruction of Romans ought to bear.  If you care to observe particular days as significant observances, so be it.  Observe them with reverence.  If, on the other hand, you count all days equal, so be it.  Observe every day with reverence.  If you have scruples over foods, then watch what you’re eating.  But don’t push those on everybody else.  If you are unconcerned about such things, eat what you will, but don’t do so in such a way as will coerce a brother into acting against his own conscience.  Don’t be a temptation to your brother, nor a lawyer, either.  Who are you to judge?  Judge yourself, and you shall have plenty to occupy your time.

But with all that, recall what it is that marks you out as a follower of Jesus.  First and foremost, they will know us by our love for one another.  And that love is such as will disregard the petty differences and rejoice in the unity, as we are ‘all together in one place.’  That’s not a matter of all being in one church building or one denomination.  I dare say it must transcend such bounds.  No.  It’s a matter of spiritual harmony.  And harmony, as I have so often observed, does not consist in everybody singing the same note, nor even the same timing.  It’s a tapestry, not a rigid post.

Let us seek, then, to be willing to accept what God determines acceptable.  Let us be careful lest we declare unclean what God has declared clean.  Let us seek to meet the day with joy, being filled, as we are, with the Holy Spirit.  And may we, by His gracious influence, spread true joy to those we encounter, believer and unbeliever alike, that our Lord may be known more readily.  This is not a case of compromise.  It’s a case of serving our function, to be witnesses of Christ in the world.