| Church News Volume 6, Issue 6 (June 2005)Dear friends, "I will pour out my Spirit upon all
  flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your
  young men shall see visions and your old men shall dream
  dreams." (Acts 2:17) Fire can be frightening; even the tiniest flame can prove
  unpredictable and intense: leaping and dancing, crackling and
  roaring, or smouldering unseen. For early humankind fire may have
  been the most obvious indication of its supremacy over other
  species. Harnessing its power, and especially discovering how to
  kindle it for ourselves, may have seemed to give almost godlike
  status to humanity. Nevertheless, while fire was prized for
  supplying heat and light, as a means of cooking food and later for
  generating energy to drive machines, it was still obvious that it
  was dangerous and tricky - to be treated with enormous
  respect. However human beings tried to domesticate it, there was
  still a chance that it could escape our control and quite literally
  backfire on us. If we stop to think about it, the idea that the Holy Spirit first
  appeared like fire, irradiating the disciples, is quite
  unnerving. For, in a secret, enclosed location in Jerusalem, two of
  the most fickle and elusive elements known come together: fire and a
  strong wind. Unreasonable flame, and invisible, erratic currents of
  air. Materialising from nowhere, they rush over the apostles like
  waves … and something extraordinary happens to them: they can
  suddenly do things which they never could before. So startling is their transformation that bystanders seek an
  explanation; in human terms, this simply isn't possible. One minute
  these men are a demoralised remnant, the next they are leaders and
  preachers, visionaries and martyrs; before they are a ragbag of
  northern labourers and after they are the "A" team: skilled in
  communicating the gospel across the culture and language divide. For
  the average Pamphylian or Egyptian, finding the man who had to wave
  his hands to make himself understood at your market stall yesterday,
  suddenly fluent and persuasive in your mother tongue, is odd to say
  the least! Something is out of control, behaving as it ought not to:
  this is something we humans don't like much. Some years ago there was a British Gas advertising campaign, where
  various celebrities would snap their fingers and a blue flame would
  spring up at the end of their thumb: "Don't you just love being
  in control?" was the slogan. It was seductive. Of course we love
  being in control: air conditioning, central heating, 24-hour
  supermarkets, cable TV, flexitime … we want to choose, to please
  ourselves in as many ways as possible. In the prevailing Western
  culture, the will of the individual is supreme. So God is becoming
  confined to smaller and smaller boxes, domesticated and sugar-coated
  for Sunday TV programmes, crammed into a shape and size that seeks
  to place him at our disposal. We might imagine that we are in
  command and feel rather sorry for those who are less able to snap
  their fingers and get whatever they desire. The people of the
  developing world, for example, the poverty and uncertainty of whose
  daily lives are scarcely imaginable to us, can choose little. Yet in
  many ways they display an openness to God, and especially the
  enabling power of his free-flowing Spirit, which does not impose the
  same human limitations on divine capabilities. St Paul has seen the
  Spirit in action; he describes to the Corinthian Christians the way
  it brings to light different gifts in different people. Somehow we must come closer to the Spirit's flame, removing the
  narrow limits we seem to have applied to God, in all his
  persons. It's not easy. We are embedded in a culture that often
  cannot hear the claims of a higher authority. Accepting that God is
  God, that Jesus uniquely revealed him on earth and that his Spirit
  abides with us - not a destructive force, but a constructive, saving
  one - moves us to commit ourselves to a mutually trusting
  relationship; to hear ourselves called and to be open to
  possibilities. That may mean that we are in for a surprise - for the
  divine spark may turn us into something new: prophets, dreamers,
  even visionaries. The tiniest chink of openness to the Spirit can
  enable us to do things we never believed we could, help us weather
  storms of great devastation, uphold us in the deepest sorrow …
  even make us heard in languages we have never studied. This is why
  the Church is here: to proclaim who is really in control and to
  participate in his mission. Each with our various complementary
  gifts, we are the ones who, like the apostles before us, can,
  together, make God known and his kingdom come. Revd Ian M. Finn News Letter Archive. |