PENTECOST

I’m tired. I’m tired of slugging it out every day in that office or on that line where nobody really cares whether I live or die. I’m tired of being treated like a number.

I’m tired of being called nosey when I’m just trying to help. I’m tired of being unappreciated and taken for granted.

I’m tired of being an armchair psychologist and trying to figure people out. I’m tired of yelling and screaming at my kids. I’m tired of yelling and screaming at my parents.

I’m tired of cooking meals and washing clothes and scrubbing floors and taking out the garbage and getting no thanks for it. I’m tired of slaving over the stove day after day and never getting away for a break.

I’m tired of working myself to the bone on the job and coming home to nag, nag, nag. I’m tired of studying hard and being honest while my classmates are cheating and having lots more free time.

I’m tired of watching all the horror movies on the daily news and worrying about the future of Cambodia, the future of the universities, the future of our country.

I’m tired of making more money and paying more taxes and saving less.

And I’m tired of trying to listen to God when He doesn’t seem to say anything worthwhile. I’m tired of trying to understand why God lets all the raindrops fall on my head all the time.

I’m tired of coming to a brick building Sunday after Sunday, standing, sitting, standing, sitting, singing hymns I don’t know and some I don’t like, praying long prayers when it’s hot and sticky.

I’m tired of trying to read the Bible when the words just tell me what I’m not doing to serve my Lord and my neighbor. I’m tired of hearing what I should be doing as a Christian.

And I’m tired of seeing how little impact the Church has on our community. I’m tired of watching church members drag their feet and failing to pitch in and give their time to get the Church’s Mission done.

I’m tired of watching the offerings fall below the budget, a budget that is too low anyway. I’m tired of being forgiving and tolerant of the hypocrites in the pew next to me. I’m tired of trying to love my neighbor while he spits in my face. I’m tired.

Pentecost is for people who are tired. It’s a special time to invite the Spirit of God to come and light my fire. It’s the only time God invites us to get drunk, inebriated with new life and new perspective.

Sometimes it’s really hard to imagine that being Christian can be exciting and vibrant, so exciting it can catapult a person out of his chair and into action. It’s hard to imagine because so often the Word of God becomes just another word, just another opinion, the words of the Church ring dull in our ears.

But it has happened and does happen that being Christian is very exciting. Men are not thrown to lions or burned at stakes for something that means very little to them. They are not ostracized from society and driven from home for dull-sounding words. The flame of the Spirit has burned brightly, and now when it seems to be only flickering, we wonder how this petrified stone we hold in our hands could once have been molten lava.

Yet most, if not all, of us have experienced how the apparently extinct fire of a Bible passage or a word we have heard in worship has suddenly ignited.

How often have we heard the words of the psalm about the valley of the shadow of death and the good shepherd who is with us in darkness and loneliness. At the time those words may have passed as simple pious phrases. They meant little to us; perhaps we filed them for future reference.

Then suddenly we were in the valley, and the stars seemed to be going out. There was no one to turn to with any amount of confidence. We saw no opening, no exit. There was nothing but the black wall rising up ominously before us. Suddenly that phrase about the good shepherd, that phrase we had presumed dead, began to burst with life. We could actually feel the rod and the staff in our hands. We saw bridges thrown across the dark valley and escape routes we had never noticed before. Although we knew the situation was as desperate as ever, we knew, too, we were wrapped in a blanket of permanent security, a security that gave us peace and tranquility.

All at once the words of Jesus, "Lo, I am with you, even to the close of the age," meant something very real to us. The dead lava in our hands began to get warm. We had a new breath of life. Anyone who has had that miracle understands the miracle of Pentecost. A word, the Word, can come alive; it can reach me and become a creative, transforming power in my life.

When I am burdened by my guilt and weighed down by my own repentance and I hear, "Your sins are forgiven," I know what Pentecost is about. When I am terribly helpless, awaiting the next wave of terror as though I were paralyzed, and I hear, "Nothing can happen to you that he has not seen and made a blessing for you," I know how the Spirit works.

Pentecost happens whenever the Word jolts me and sweeps me off my feet, when it clicks. The signs are not likely to be earthshaking and earpiercing. For most of us there are no lightning bolts and thunderclaps. And the tongues of flame aren’t likely to be repeated. God still uses the still small voice and the common things to speak his Word. The voice may come through my pleading parents, my crying children, or my humdrum routines.

And my reaction need not be one of shouting and screaming and running, tearing off my clothes. Just as the disciples at the first Pentecost spoke in many languages, there are many ways of reacting to the work of the Spirit.

But my reaction is one of concern, earnest concern, for the people who are tired and don’t know where to turn for the real pepper-upper. The onlookers at the first Pentecost were tired, and their first question after they realized that something really big was going on was, "What should we do?" And 3,000 persons became part of Jesus through Baptism that day.

There are many close to us who are looking and asking. They’re tired and they want some rest. That’s why we come to this place Sunday mornings - because we’re tired, and we need the Spirit to revive us.

I get tired when I forget the Spirit. And I really know and appreciate the Spirit when I am tired. My hand is outstretched and open to receive new energy and new life. Pentecost is for those who are tired; it’s the real pepper-upper. Amen.