The Feast of Pentecost is loaded with profound and fantastical readings of scripture.
To arrive at Pentecost, we should go through the Tower of Babel. The arrival of the Holy Spirit rhymes with that story on purpose—so let’s take a moment and follow a story we might not have thought about in years.
Pentecost is the day when the Holy Spirit comes from heaven like a rushing wind. It’s full of symbolism… flame, wind, water, the dove. It’s a rich time to do fun crafts or activities as a family to celebrate this important day in the Christian year. The color of pentecost is RED.
I had something curious happen to me this past week, and it’s made me pay attention and wonder how the events of this past year are affecting not only me, but all of us.
It’s been fifty days since Easter Day. Fifty days. Seven Weeks. An entire liturgical season spent physically distancing from our church families.
It’s been less than a year since our family’s returned to St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, so there are still surprises in the liturgical calendar. “Please wear red on Pentecost,” invited Father Randall. I owned nothing red except for a waffle-knit funnel-neck shirt that obviously screamed fall even though the weather was basically expected to be just that.
My daughter has a book about unusual animal friendships. It hits every mark for cuteness: miniature animals, golden retrievers, implausible successe. Rather than being sticky sweet, though, the book offers a generosity of spirit
The call to go into the world in ministry in Christ’s name is for our children too. How can we help them grow into it?
For twenty years, my prayer practice reminded me that my children were sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.
How I feel about these plants in my garden is merely a fraction of the way Jesus feels about me and how I am growing.