The Lords First Gift To The Church
Have you ever received a gift you were not sure you knew what to do with? I suspect we all have. Flowery ties that you would not be caught dead in . . . rank perfumes or colognes that you would not wear for fear of dropping everyone in the room into a faint…horrible pictures from some relative that are suitable only for the attic. There are some gifts we do not know how to handle.
Now, let me change the subject for a moment. Let's talk about fire. Fire is fascinating. Little children say they want to grow up to be firefighters. If you hear that there is a fire in the neighborhood, chances are you will go out to watch it.—which, of course, creates a big problem for those kids who did grow up to be firefighters. On a winter's evening, we like building a fire; not just for the warmth, but for the chance to watch it do its work. On a summer's evening in the woods, we enjoy gathering around a campfire; not for the warmth, but for the sheer pleasure of being near it. Fire fascinates us.
Now, combine those two thoughts: gifts and fire. I wonder what would happen if someone gave you a gift of fire. I'm sure you would be fascinated by it. But what in the world would it mean? Perhaps the early Christians wondered also. After all, that was the Lord's first gift to the church on that momentous and earth-shaking Pentecost—he gave us fire. Do you remember?
The faithful had gathered there in that upper room near the temple in Jerusalem—120 of them. They had been there for the better part of ten days, spending their time in prayer, choosing another apostle to replace Judas who had recently committed suicide, talking among themselves of the ministry of their Lord Jesus who had been taken up from them into heaven just a week-and-a-half before. Just prior to his ascension, Jesus had told them to go into Jerusalem and not to leave the city until they had received the gift of which he had spoken to them earlier, the gift of the Holy Spirit. So they did. They were gathered there to wait, not quite sure what this gift was all about. Suddenly, the group there heard a noise. It sounded like a windstorm, a hurricane, a tornado—the sound of some tremendous force. But nothing was moved; no buildings were destroyed, no doors slammed shut, not even a leaf rustled. As they looked around to see what was happening, they noticed that above each head was what appeared to be a flame—fire that simply sat there; the fire that would be Christ's first gift to his church—the fire that was the Holy Spirit—a gift of fire. I wonder if the disciples had any more idea what to do with a gift like that than we do. I doubt it. But to their credit, and to our undying benefit, they did not think of possessing the gift; they let that gift possess them.
The fire was exactly what Jesus foretold. It proved to be a comforter, an encourager, an exhorter or challenger. Look what happened to Peter. To say the least, this big fisherman had always been a brash fellow. He had been brash enough to leave his fishing business, to drop his livelihood when Jesus had said to him and his brother, "Come follow me and I will make you fishers of people." He had been brash enough to try things that were beyond human comprehension like—healing sick people and walking on water. He had
The fire took him (Martin Luther) and led him to begin a reformation that has continued to this day. It's still here today. It is still the Lord's birthday gift to the church. Unfortunately, we treat it as if it were one of the horrible ties or smelly perfumes or ugly pictures. We do not know what to do with it and, quite honestly, we seem to live as if we would just as soon not have it.
We think, "Wow, what great things could happen in us and through us if we would open ourselves up to the Spirit like Peter and the rest did been brash enough to take a sword to the servant of the High Priest in Gethsemane, despite being tremendously outnumbered. But brashness has its limitations. Peter was also cowardly; just cowardly enough to deny that he had ever known Jesus when confronted by a little servant girl. Yes, that fisherman was brash, but not brash enough in himself to do what he did on Pentecost. It has worked the same through the centuries since Pentecost.
There was another young man—a priest in an Augustinian monastery in the sixteenth century. He had become concerned about the direction his church was taking. He was concerned that the church had its priorities all wrong. The fire took him. It brought him comfort in the face of the hostilities of his superiors, encouraged him to share what he felt with his people, and challenged him to press on with the task of stopping the abuses.
What a witness we would have! What a church we would have!" And it is true, we would be given such power that things would never be the same again. Do we want that kind of power here? Or are we too afraid of it? Do we want the fire of Pentecost to burn at Zion? Or are we worried that it might call from us more than we want to give and disrupt our comfortable lives? If we want it, we can have it, too. The Holy Spirit is a gift who brings comfort, encouragement, challenge, guidance and, most of all, power.
Will we simply be fascinated by the Spirit as we watch others set on fire? Or will we pray, "Lord, give us that fire." That is my prayer for Zion, "Lord, give us that fire." And I pray, I pray that it is yours.
God loves you and
so do I,
Pastor Ron
HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!