Sunday Sermon - 24 May
As I mentioned last week, this is part two of a two-part series because the Ascension—which we celebrated last Sunday—is not a stand-alone event. Jesus’ departure into heaven was not the end of the story. Jesus left, He had to leave, in order to make way for something new. To make space for God’s next ‘big presence’.
Last week we left the disciples standing in that strange in-between place. Jesus had blessed them. Jesus had ascended. Jesus had told them to stay in Jerusalem and wait for the promise of the Father. So they did. They stayed and waited, just as they’d been told. They waited with forgiven hearts but uncertain minds. They waited with restored faith but incomplete understanding. They waited not knowing what was to come.
I think some, if not all of us, know what that kind of waiting feels like. Waiting for clarity. Waiting for healing. Waiting for courage. Waiting for some miracle that only God can perform. And so the question we left off with last week was this: What happens when the promise finally arrives? Today, Pentecost provides us with the answer.
The Book of Acts tells us: “Suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind… divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them… and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit.”
Now this is important: Pentecost is not simply a dramatic spiritual spectacle. God isn’t performative. Everything has a purpose. It is not wind for the sake of wind. It is not fire for the sake of fire. It is not spiritual fervour for the sake of emotional entertainment. The meaning of Pentecost is much deeper than that.
People from every nation hear the disciples speaking, and each one hears the message in their own language. Parthians. Medes. Elamites. Visitors from Rome. Egypt. Libya. People from all over the known world. And what do they hear? Not garbled confusion. Not chaotic noise but the mighty works of God. Not forced sameness. Not uniformity. But unity in diversity. Commonality amongst their differences. They hear the truth that is the Gospel.
In that moment there is difference without division and something extraordinary happens. The Spirit does what human beings struggle to do on our own. The Spirit bridges what fear divides. The Spirit unites what had been separated. The Spirit makes communion possible.
If Jesus’ Ascension gave way to expanded sacred space, Pentecost fills that space with the life of God, the essence of God. God in Christ is no longer physically present in one place at one time. Now the Spirit dwells in all believers. Now sacred space is not confined to a body bound by physical limitations and geography. Now the presence of Christ moves outward into hearts, homes, communities, and the world.
This is exactly what Jesus promised in the Gospel of John: “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me… Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.”
John tells us that Jesus was speaking about the Spirit, the lifeblood of faith. This is no trickling puddle. Jesus is speaking of abundance—rivers of living water that flow to the ends of the earth, more than enough for us all. The Spirit is not meant to sit still inside us. It moves through us and outward from us. The Holy Spirit brings life where there is dust, healing where there is brokenness and hope where there is despair.
When we think of Pentecost we often think only of fire from above, but the Spirit also moves as living water, rising from within. Let’s look at the disciples again. The disciples do not become different people because they discover hidden strength inside themselves. Let’s face it—they are who they always were.
Peter is still Peter — impulsive, fearful Peter who denied Jesus three times — but now Peter stands in public and proclaims Christ boldly. What changed? Not Peter’s personality. Not his intelligence. Not his courage. The Spirit changed what Peter could not change on his own. That is the power of Pentecost. It is divine life poured into the void of human weakness. It is the Spirit giving Peter the voice he could not find on his own.
Many of us imagine the Christian life as something we accomplish by trying harder. By being more patient, faithful, prayerful, or loving. Yes, effort and discipline matter, but only to a certain extent. Pentecost reminds us that Christianity is not powered by willpower alone. We cannot will ourselves into holiness. The Church cannot survive on enthusiasm alone.
The disciples had seen the Resurrection. They had been forgiven. They believed. And yet Jesus still said: ‘Wait, there is more to come’. Because belief and forgiveness alone was not enough. They needed the Spirit to activate them. And so do we.
Today, in the midst of this unifying fire and flowing river that is the Holy Spirit within us, we also find ourselves in a world with a divided and fractured Church - a contemporary Christianity with competing messages, conflicting Gospel interpretations and dueling ideologies. Quite frankly it is both confusing and disconcerting.
Paul writes: “There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit… in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body.”
One Spirit. Many gifts. One body. The Spirit does not erase difference—it embraces difference. The Spirit unites the unalike. Eyes, hands, feet—one body. Each part matters. The Church was never meant to be built on sameness. not ideology, personality, power or uniformity, but on one truth: we share in the belief, in the faith, of the life of a risen Christ.
This is where the Church has struggled because the Church is holy, but it is also human. We divide. We fracture. We fight.
Churches divide. Denominations separate. Christians condemn one another and we’ve even gone to war against each other. Throughout history, using the name of Jesus, Christendom has committed some terribly evil acts. Still today, sometimes the deepest wounds are not from outside the Church but from inside it. From judgment, rejection, misused or abused power, withheld love.
Perhaps that is why some lose trust in the Church even if they do not lose faith in Christ. I understand that. I have personally experienced this. I have never had a crisis of faith but I have had moments of struggle with my Church. Moments when the human structure and system speak louder than the voice of Christ. Yet I have also found grace in unexpected places.
When I was in high school I realized God was calling me to priesthood. It was not just a thought—it was a visceral encounter with Christ. So, I went to Queen’s, studied world religions, seeking understanding of what faith is and how we humans find meaning in religion. In my fourth year I met with a well-beloved Bishop, who had known me since I was a young altar server, to apply for ordination. The meeting was short. He told me he wouldn't ordain me. He said that if I really wanted to be a priest, I needed discipline and he suggested I attend RMC (Royal Military College).
I was gutted. So, I wrote the LSAT and went to law school instead. In law school, I shared my story with the Dean of Law. He connected me with Bishop Terrance Finlay, the then Bishop of Toronto, an old friend of his who I kind of knew after having worked with his daughter at camp. I was accepted as a postulant, attended Trinity College and the rest is history.
I tell this story because even respected leaders of the Church can be misguided - focusing on the authority of the church, rather than the message of Christ in the Gospel. Being told by the Bishop to go to RMC, a school that trains people to follow orders, to fight in wars and to kill, was exactly the opposite of what I expected from a Christian leader in my church.
When I was rejected, I felt confused and dejected and, to a certain extent, unworthy. After much prayer and reflection, I realized that it wasn’t God who gave up on me, it was the church (and perhaps a misguided Bishop) so, with the help of the Dean of Law, I didn’t give up on myself.
I tell this story because Pentecost teaches us this: God is not finished with imperfect people and God is not finished with imperfect churches. The Church begins not with perfect saints but with frightened disciples behind locked doors. And the Spirit comes anyway.
At Pentecost we are reminded of this again and again. Our church is imperfect and it is still graced by God’s love and Holy Spirit. There are voices that speak loudly in the name of Christianity but sometimes feel disconnected from the voice of Christ. Voices of divisive power, focusing on structure over unity, discipline to authority, and greed over love yet still proclaiming to be the voice of Jesus.
Paul reminds us: “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.”
If Jesus is Lord, then his life must shape ours. Love your enemies. Blessed are the peacemakers. Forgive seventy times seven. Become a servant of all. This is the message of Pentecost and this is the real language of the Spirit. The Spirit does not make us louder more powerful versions of ourselves. It makes us more like Christ, humble, loving, self-sacrificing.
My point is this: do not let the failures of the Church or the exploitations of those in power who use the name of the Church, become an excuse to leave or to ignore God’s call to you and your discipleship (since you’re here, I expect you won’t!).
We know God’s people have always been imperfect, doing things, making choices, contrary to God’s will for us. Jesus came to remedy this, to forgive us and the Holy Spirit now comes to inspire and empower us.
We do not have to be perfect. We do not have all the answers. We do not need to have it all together. We simply need to remain open. Open to the living water of God, the fire of God and the Spirit who still moves within us and through us.
In closing I’d like to make this final point. Pentecost is not only a historic moment trapped in time. The Pentecost moment is now, it is today, it is everyday.
The Spirit still speaks. The Spirit still heals. The Spirit still empowers. The Spirit still gathers us into one body. The Spirit still creates courage. The Spirit still sends us into the world to stand up against the exploitation and wrongdoing that we see exhorted in the name of Jesus.
So go. Speak love in a world that often feels full of hatred. Bring peace and unifying love in a world of division. Humbly serve in a culture that is all too obsessed with wealth and power. Let the rivers of living water - the love of the Holy Spirit - flow from within you. Let the fire of God burn through you—not for yourself, but so others may see the true and real Christ in you.
And remember this: Easter tells us of the healing power of God’s forgiveness. Pentecost tells us that the Spirit, the Spirit now within you, creates the future. With the power of God’s love working within you, what a blessed and hopeful future it shall be.
Amen.