On Pentecost Sunday, instead of the usual sermon. our Vicar interviewed a member of the congregation, opening the conversation with a question,
What does Pentecost mean to you?
A good question, and one with as many answers as interviewees.
But suppose that the interviewee was the Holy Spirit?
“Pentecost, I remember it well,
I called the meeting. In the upper room,
So quiet, Peter lost for words,
Until I moved,fanned up a wind,
A violent wind, that’s how they wrote it down,
Excuse me, but I still have to raise a storm –
Before I’m heard,
To light a fire
Before I’m noticed.
Yet, I still come to church,
Every Sunday, invisible, unheard, unnoticed –
I slip in listen and brood as I’m mentioned in liturgy
Addressed in prayer.
no one really expects me to do it again,
there is lunch, and the family are coming today,
You all really must fly…..
So must I.
One day, soon
I intend to raise a storm,
Light a fire,
Excuse me, I really prefer the gentle way,
But you don’t listen,
And you don’t see…
Afraid, you give me, no other choice,
I will just have to raise my voice …
You still have work to do,
Fish to catch,
Fishers of men,
And sheep to feed…
WE have a Gospel to proclaim…
Yes, I really might do Pentecost again!
(Words from a member of our congregation who doesn’t want to be named but felt inspired to write..)