“…in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.” (Acts 2:11b)
Kristen was only 32 years old when she died. She was a single mom, a talented pianist, and a registered nurse. I’m told she had a wicked sense of humor. She was also anorexic, and, in spite of the best help her parents and medical science could give her, the demons got the better of her. She starved herself to death.
A year after I officiated her funeral service, I got a call from the funeral director, my pal Dana, who asked if I’d be available again for Kristen’s family. They were requesting that I do a short committal liturgy. They were ready to bury Kristen’s cremated remains.
It was a hot July day at the cemetery. Dana set up a small white pillar and placed Kristen’s urn on top. The family, Kristen’s parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew, and grandparents, arrived and gathered around the pillar. Kristen’s mom wore two colorful brooches in the shapes of butterflies. “These are for my two daughters,” she explained. I read the short liturgy from the Lutheran Occasional Services. When I finished, Dana shared some words of comfort with the family. As she spoke, her back to the pillar, the most enormous blue-winged butterfly I’ve ever seen floated down and landed on Kristen’s urn. It flapped its brilliant wings briefly, and then floated off again.
I don’t pretend to be an expert on butterflies, but I’ve researched this. Butterflies of this particular size and color are not native to the Philadelphia area. In fact, they’re not even native to the east coast of the United States. Was the appearance of this creature a mere coincidence, or was it—possibly?—a small manifestation of the Holy Spirit? Was God speaking a message of peace and comfort in a moment of tragedy?
Every year on Pentecost we hear again the story of the coming of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:1-21)—the rush of the “violent wind,” the appearance of tongues of flame, and the miraculous ability given to the apostles to speak and be understood in various languages. When the Spirit shows up, she makes a dramatic entrance. She flamboyantly grabs our attention, amazing and astonishing us, so that we may hear of God’s deeds of power.
But I wonder: does the Spirit only speak in extravagant ways, or is God always communicating with us in deeds which may be as subtle as the appearance of a butterfly? Are God’s deeds of power always fantastic, Red Sea-rending acts, or can they be as simple as an act of kindness rendered at a crucial moment? How do you experience the Holy Spirit? What deeds of power have given direction to your journey? What language has God used to get through to you?
Of course, there are always those who won’t listen, even when the Spirit speaks her loudest. The miraculous gift of languages on that first Pentecost was met with amazement by some and mocking by others who passed it off as the ravings of a bunch of drunkards. When Jesus, in the Gospel (John 15:26-27, 16:4b-15) speaks of the sin of unbelief (v.9), he’s not equating belief with assent to church doctrine. I’m sure there are many who willingly confess the creeds of the faith but don’t really believe that the Spirit could be speaking and acting in their lives.
To live in the Holy Spirit doesn’t have to mean speaking in tongues or seeing visions like some ancient mystic. But it does mean a sure and certain hope that God has not abandoned us, that God is speaking to us, and that God wants to speak through us. “You also are to testify,” Jesus says, and he assures us that the Spirit will give us the words.
Keep listening, my friend. She’s speaking.
No comments:
Post a Comment