Order of Service – May 23, 2010

Sermon for Zion Presbyterian Church, May 23, 2010 – Pentecost

Choruses: Revival; I Heard The Sound Of Voices; Jesus, All For Jesus

Hymns: 400 – Spirit of the Living God; 553 – May The Lord Bless You; 384 – O Breath of Life; 399 – Spirit of Gentleness

Scripture: Acts 2:1-4; Romans 15:1-7; 13

Sermon: Overflowing with the Spirit

Acts 2:1-4

When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.

Romans 15:1-7; 13

We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please his neighbour for his good, to build him up. For even Christ did not please himself but, as it is written: "The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me." For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.

May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God…

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

That was the moment. That was when it really all began. Up to that moment, that precise moment, the followers of Jesus were still, it seems, in a state of shock. Up to that moment, they still didn’t know what to do with it all – with the arrest and trial and beating and crucifixion of the one they loved so much; with the chaos and confusion of Easter Morning, the incomprehensible empty tomb, the terrifying angels asking them why they were looking for Jesus among the dead, the earth-shaking news that he was alive, and then, that night, that very night, Jesus himself, among them, speaking to them, eating with them, blessing them, alive, alive. For forty days he was among them, first in Jerusalem, then in Galilee, appearing not only to them but to his family, to his kinfolk, to hundreds of others, teaching, encouraging, commissioning. Forty days, and then it was back to Jerusalem, and Jesus rising to heaven, everyone staring up, mouths hanging open, and then the angels again, asking this time what on earth they were looking for, didn’t they know he’d be back, like he said? And after all that, all they knew was they were to go to Jerusalem, to gather together, to wait.

There were doubtless some who drifted away in that nine days of waiting – for what? – and others who had made their way across from Joppa, up from Qumran, down from Galilee, to join the others, to wait. In all, there were 120, we’re told, with Jesus’ mother Mary and his brothers among them, and not a one of them knew what was coming. Until that moment, that very moment, the moment when it all began.

I wish I could bring you there. I wish I could bring me there! I could bring you there, right there, right to that place, to the very place where the building stood in which they gathered, where now stands a newer building, built right on the stones of that very first place. I could bring you there, but I can’t bring you then. But I wish I could. I wish I could stand with you in a corner of that crowded room, where we could look upon that first 120. There would be little groups and knots within the number – some praying, some murmuring in quiet discussion, some retelling the stories of seeing Jesus again. We would look and wonder which of them was Mary, which the brothers of Jesus, which one Peter, which one John. The morning sun is streaming in the open eastern window, the rough curtains in the other windows barely moving in the gentle Mount Zion breeze. When all hell – no, no – when all heaven breaks loose.

Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.

Not a wind, not a storm, not a violent desert gale, not a khamsin sweeping across the hills from the Judean desert, but a sound like the blowing of a violent wind, a roaring, rushing locomotive of a sound, a sound which came from heaven and filled the house blasting from corner to corner, sending everyone to their feet, tables knocked aside, cups and pitchers falling, mouths gaping, eyes wide. Ours, too.

And now, They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. Not fire, but what seemed to be fire, glowing, shining fire, appearing from nowhere in the middle of the room, blinding with brilliance, flashing every colour of the rainbow, and then separating, dancing, now resting above each one, a flickering tongue of flame, the very Presence of God, the Shekinah Glory of Old, descending upon them all. On us, too.

And then the flames descend further, and the glow, the fire, the brilliance, the power, the very presence of God, the Shekinah Glory, illumines them from within, as All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit, as all of them had within their very selves, burning within their very hearts, the very same power which forty-nine days before rekindled the life of a man three days dead, the very same power which on Easter morning burned so brightly within a Golgotha tomb that it blew the stone door clear away; the Holy Spirit had come, and had filled them, filled them with power, filled them with life. And filled us too.

And streaming out of them come praises, come Hallelujahs, come blessings to the Lord most High, rushing from them, bursting from them, shouting and singing and laughing and crying from them, praises not just in their own Hebrew, their own Aramaic, but in languages known and unknown, as they began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them. From us too; add English, French, German, Arabic; add others to the list.

I want you to hear their voices; I want you to see their faces; I want you be, with them, swept from head to toe, jolted and tingled and sparking with energy and life. But most of all, I want you to look into their eyes. I want you to see something in their eyes, something that just wasn’t there before. I want you to see shining from them, reflecting from them, illuminating deep within, the power of the presence of the Glory of God. I want you to see it in their eyes. I want you to see it reflected back in yours.

You see, up until this moment, this very moment, you wouldn’t have seen it. Up until this moment, you would have seen other things in their eyes, other things we’re told about, things they felt in their heart, as the forty-nine days since Easter had passed. We are told, up till this moment, of fear, of confusion, of wonder and joy. We are told of how “amazement gripped them all.” We are told of rejoicing, we are told of uncertainty, we are told of doubt. “Some doubted,” Matthew tells us, as he brings his Gospel to a close on a Galilee mountain. “Some doubted,” John tells us, as he wraps his story with a breakfast of fish. “Some doubted,” says Luke, as Jesus appeared among them, as they were “still not believing, for wonder and amazement.” And Mark? “Afraid,” is Mark’s last word, the women fleeing the angel and the empty tomb.

But now? Now, in their eyes? Now, you see none of these things. Now you see Glory. Now you see Encouragement. Now you see Joy, and Peace, you see Trust, and Hope. Look into their eyes. Doubt? Gone. Fear? Gone. Uncertainty? Gone. Because these people are filled with the Spirit of God, and where the Spirit of God is, is Joy, and Peace, and Trust, and Hope. Look into their eyes. From this moment – from this moment on – these 120 souls never look back, as they rush from that room and into the world with the life changing, life giving, life saving message of Jesus. As they rush into the world filled to overflowing with the Holy Spirit, to a world that would never be the same again. Us, too. Never the same again.

Twenty-five years later, the aftershock was still being felt, even in far-away Rome, as Paul wrote the new Christians there, ones who had in their eyes the same wild fire. Two thousand years later, the aftershock is still being felt here, right here, in far-away Charlottetown, as Paul’s words to the Romans become God’s word to us, this Pentecost Sunday. Listen, as the Spirit breathes life to these words:

We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please his neighbour for his good, to build him up…

Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God…

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

For the 120, they would live their days bearing with each other, serving each other, building one another up; they would be blessed with endurance, with encouragement, with unity, with praise. They would accept one another, and all the thousands whom God would bring into their midst, even as God had accepted them all. And they would be filled with hope and joy and peace and trust, filled to overflowing with the Spirit of God.

Us too. Us too. From this moment – from this moment on – your life doesn’t have to be lived with doubt, with uncertainty, with fear. From this moment – from this moment on – you can join with that 120, you can join with all those who rejoice in the Spirit, you too can live a life devoted to love and encouragement, unity and praise. You too can know the acceptance of God and a family of faith. You too can be filled with hope and joy and peace and trust, filled to overflowing with the Spirit of God.

It’s a gift. Do you want it? Have you asked for it? Would you? Right now? Let’s pray…

Father, Jesus said you would never withhold the Gift of your Holy Spirit to any of your children who ask. And so we ask you now.

As your Holy Spirit filled to overflowing those gathered in that place of long ago, so fill your children gathered in this place today. We’re tired of doubt. We’re tired of uncertainty. We’re finished with fear.

Bring to us a Spirit of love and encouragement, of unity and praise. Bring to us a Spirit of hope and joy, of peace and trust. Fill our hearts to overflowing, we pray.

From this moment on, may we never be the same again; may we never look back.

Revive us. Walk with us. Fall afresh on us. Move among us. Melt us, mould us, fill us, use us. Come sweeping through us. Revive us; revive your church with life and power.

We ask you, Father, in the name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and by the power of the Holy Spirit; Amen.