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Sunday last, we draped the chancel furniture in red paraments to remind us that on the Day of Pentecost, in the words of the King James Version, “there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire.” Parenthetically, I must say that I could not figure that out when I was a small boy: cloven tongues of fire.

         I knew only that cloves came in a jar, looked like nails, and that sometimes at Christmas my mother stuck them in oranges, creating a truly wonderful smell. But I do remember trying to picture what cloves might look like, or smell like, attached to a tongue wreathed in flame; or how God could get cloves into that same tongue; or why God would even do such a thing. Maybe it was because they looked like little nails, pointing aesthetically to Jesus and the cross, Easter and Pentecost. At that time, I did not make the connection.

         Many of us misunderstand things through the years, unable to make connections between our lives and the Bible, the portrait we have of God in Jesus. We try putting what we have together, making pictures with the words we are given, and oftentimes, puzzling through them alone yields no results. We need others—the church, our classes, our preachers, our bible studies and prayer meetings—to help us find our way.

         Modern translations helped me tidy up the idea: pieces of fire, tongues of fire, petals of fire. And, indeed, on Pentecost, in many Greek Orthodox churches, the petals of roses are dropped from the ceiling onto worshipers, paralleling the tongues of fire and the gift of power they are given. On Pentecost, the Holy Spirit comes like fire as power and speech: a gift of powerful utterance given to disciples who only fifty days before fled, hid and locked themselves away for fear of confessing that they even knew Jesus. It is at this time they are given the voice, the heart, and the courage to say what they are not able to say alone: Jesus is alive, Messiah, Son, Lord and King.  In Him we have eternal life.

         This is the sound of Pentecost: divided tongues, as of fire; loud rush of wind; overlapping languages. Can you hear the sound of Pentecost just before this point in time? The pandemonium begins around nine o’clock, so what do you hear in the upper room at seven thirty or a quarter after eight before the crackle of flame, the wind and speech? Can you hear the sound of the apostles anticipation; obedient hopefulness; open hearts and minds? Can you hear the sound where you worship?

Laurence Hull Stookey is the retired Professor of Preaching and Worship at Wesley Theological Seminary and the Pastor of Asbury United Methodist Church in Allen, Maryland.

Disciplines: A Book of Daily Devotions is a longstanding—and beloved—resource published by Upper Room Books every year. Each week’s readings are reflections on scripture passages in the lectionary for that period.

In 2013 you can not only read these daily devotions but also comment on them, ask the writer a question, and respond to others who are reading the same material each day. We are looking forward to building a community of Disciplines readers! Just sign in and add your comment in the Comments section following the Monday blog post.

Each Monday an introduction and the initial reading for the week will be posted. Come back to this Monday post throughout the week to continue the conversation about the week’s readings and prayers.

Read Proverbs 8:1-4
A casual reading of the opening lines of Proverbs 8 can seem to imply that what is known as “The Poem to Lady Wisdom” suggests the honoring of two deities: God the Lord and a female consort. But before jumping to that conclusion, ponder the fact that the Hebrew language has no neuter. Every noun must be designated as either “he” or “she”; there is no “it” available.
Further, poetic texts are not intended to be the basis of literalistic rationalism. Instead they are meant to stretch our imagination and send us off prepared for new insights, for deeper understanding. Wisdom is indeed a crucial attribute of the one God. But Lady Wisdom is neither a goddess nor a consort; let alone is she a temptress. But she graciously offers her priceless gifts to all who will listen in the public square, at the crossroads, at the gates and entrance portals of the town.
Who among us does not need and seek a greater depth of knowledge in order that we may more fully serve God? Perhaps we despair at achieving this. Despair may be justified if we try to manufacture wisdom ourselves. Today’s reading reveals that what we seek has been characteristic of God since before creation and is available to us because it is in accord with the interior desire of the One whom we serve.
In the history of Christian thought and piety, divine wisdom as found in the book of Proverbs becomes the foundation upon which have been built our understanding of the Word of God (logos) and indeed of the Trinity itself. This we shall explore more fully as we pray our way through the week ahead.
Gracious God, to all who truly seek you, grant the holy wisdom that has forever been at the center of your redemptive love for your world. Amen.

There is a couplet in Luke 24:47 that seems simple enough, on the one hand, and not surprising on the other: Jesus says that “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed…to all nations.”

Call it the “full” gospel: repentance and forgiveness, and not one without the other. Only, what gets proclaimed is very often one or the other, even one without the other, and the result not really “gospel” at all.

I grew up in a church where “repentance” was the sermon. We more or less masochistically gathered for excoriation and reminder: how sorry our state, how sinful our selves. Sunday by Sunday we were sinners in the hands of an angry preacher. The veins throbbing on his red neck were the merest hints of God’s ire and hell’s flame. Every stray thought, as well as every wandering step; every polluted idea or, God forbid! “impure act”: smoking, pool, dancing, cards, alcohol, a Bible other than the King James—all of it was condemned without mercy or plea. We left knowing we were people of unclean lips, dwelling in a land of people with unclean lips. And many times the altar was filled with mourners, lamenting and bewailing our manifold sins and wickedness.

Without real forgiveness, our contrition never ended. There was no joy in our “salvation.”

In other churches, as I understand it, “forgiveness” was the sermon, only it was not really forgiveness either, because forgiveness implies that something is amiss and needs forgiving, and God loves everyone just as they are. We may have missed the mark, but “sin” is such a medieval word. We all have room for growth, of course, but regret is immobilizing. What we need is positive reinforcement, a pep talk, coaching,  skills development, but not the spiritual disciplines or repentance.

Without repentance, though—a genuine lament for who and what we are not—contrition never begins. And “morning joy” comes only after a “night of weeping.”

But where there is repentance and forgiveness, not one without the other, there is the gospel Jesus commissioned us to preach, promising the joy of full salvation.

Author Tom Steagald is working on a new book titled A HOUSE OF PRAYER: THE POWER OF PRAYING IN COMMUNITY. He welcomes your comments.

Mary Lou Redding, the former Editorial Director of The Upper Room magazine, has written numerous small-group studies, including The Lord’s Prayer: Jesus Teaches Us to Pray; lives and writes in Brentwood, Tennessee, with her spoiled and aging miniature poodle, Annabelle, at her side

Disciplines: A Book of Daily Devotions is a longstanding—and beloved—resource published by Upper Room Books every year. Each week’s readings are reflections on scripture passages in the lectionary for that period.

In 2013 you can not only read these daily devotions but also comment on them, ask the writer a question, and respond to others who are reading the same material each day. We are looking forward to building a community of Disciplines readers! Just sign in and add your comment in the Comments section following the Monday blog post.

Each Monday an introduction and the initial reading for the week will be posted. Come back to this Monday post throughout the week to continue the conversation about the week’s readings and prayers.

Read Acts 2:1-13

“Come, Holy Spirit. Fill the hearts of your faithful. . . .”

For over a decade, I have met weekly with several other women in a discipleship group. Each Thursday we begin by praying the “Prayer to the Holy Spirit”* that I quote from above. After all these years, bidding the Spirit to come into my heart feels quite natural. But apparently praying in this way is not common.

Several years ago when leading a workshop on discovering spiritual gifts, I opened with a prayer addressed to the Holy Spirit—appropriate, I thought, given our subject. When the workshop ended, one of the participants made a point of coming to say to me, “I have never heard anyone pray to the Holy Spirit before.”

If we looked back over our recent worship experiences, the Holy Spirit is likely to be the person of the Trinity least addressed. Other than at Pentecost, we seldom talk about the Spirit or address the Spirit except in hymns.

Discussing the Holy Spirit makes many of us feel uncomfortable. It raises questions to which we have no answers and opens doors we’d as soon leave shut. Today’s reading includes the account of people speaking in tongues. Discussion of this passage usually ends up devoting significant time to that phenomenon, diverting attention from the role of the Spirit’s less spectacular but far more pervasive role in our daily life.

Going back to the prayer familiar to me: What would happen if we prayed from the heart each day, “Come, Holy Spirit”? This week as we approach Pentecost, we’ll be considering what it means to invite the Holy Spirit into our lives.

Holy Spirit, help me to open my heart and my life to you. Amen.

*Adapted from The Walk to Emmaus, used by permission of Upper Room Books.