Ka-BOOM! Sha-ZAM! Roofs raised, doors rattled, windows bulging, peace disrupted. Fun to write a cartoon version of Pentecost? Maybe not far from the original: the Spirit of Pentecost is sudden, wild, driving, fiery red, not soft pastels nor earth tones. Its music throbs, an insistent, direct pulse, no polite beating-around-the-bush: “Come Lord Jesus, send us your Spirit.” Now, when we need it, not “whenever it’s convenient” or “if you get around to it . . .”

This feast disrupts our glib assumptions, nudges beyond our complacencies, bursts through the locked doors of our self-imposed limits and defenses built since childhood. It bends what we once thought rigid, the boundaries of time and space. Jesus, who slips through the barriers fear erects, died several days ago. The astounded crowd outside (interesting that none were the “in” group of disciples) hears in the speech bubbles of their own first languages. No matter how many languages we learn later, the first is always dearest—words of soothing lullabies, nursery rhymes, prayer. So, in chaos, the Spirit leads us home, to the first love, God’s, and the deep anchor, rest in our Creator. Even if we currently live
in a place of pain, constraint, anger, or frustration, it’s not our permanent residence.

Pentecost calls us to more—not as superheroes, but even better: as beloved children, each essential to one body, each with Spirit’s unique gift. Myriad languages, not all verbal, praise God. The Spirit understands if we speak in sports, dance, gardens, hospitality, humor, liturgy, art, or healing. No swashbuckling achievements here: all is gift.

Kathy Coffey

Kathy Coffey is a mother of four, a speaker, and retreat leader. An award-winning writer, she is author of When the Saints Came Marching In and the recently released A Generous Lap: A Spirituality of Grandparenting. For more information, see her website: kathyjcoffey.com