Hearts on Fire: A Sermon for Pentecost 2022

May the Lord Bless you and keep you.  

May God’s face shine upon you and be gracious unto you.  

May God, give you grace not to sell yourselves short,  

Grace to risk something big for something good,  

Grace to remember that the world is now too dangerous for anything but truth,  

and too small for anything but love.  

May God take your minds and think through them.  

May God take your lips and speak through them.  

May God take your hands and work through them.  

May God take your hearts and set them on fire. 

Photo by @worldsbetweenlines on Unsplash.

This is my favorite benediction, the words that I say at the end of the worship service as a final blessing. I love the realness of this blessing—taking the ancient blessing from the book of Numbers and combining it with the wisdom of a complex grace and risk that is worth it and the hope that God is known through our thoughts, words, actions and love.  

Whenever I offer this blessing to a community, I think of Jesus’ disciples. To me, this blessing captures the spirit of Jesus’ wishes for the early church. He hoped they would be filled with courage to continue the work he had begun among them—the work of resisting empire, the work of welcoming the stranger and including the outcast and healing the hurting and loving the lost. And that work is relevant to us, here, today, too.  

Today, on this day of Pentecost, we celebrate the birthday of the church. I realized this morning that we haven’t shared a Pentecost in the sanctuary since 2019. Christians celebrate Pentecost as the day when the Holy Spirit came to dwell with God’s people. Jesus had told his disciples to expect a time when he would depart from them, a time when they would be left without his physical presence. But at the same time, Jesus promised them that they would be accompanied by a “Comforter,” an “Advocate,” which we also call the Holy Spirit. So perhaps, as the disciples gathered in the upper room, they were anticipating experiencing God’s presence with them again...but little could they imagine what form that presence would take.  

They knew about God the creator of the world, father, mother, parent. They knew intimately God the Son, Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus called the Christ, teacher, preacher, healer, friend. On the day of Pentecost, they were met with God the Holy Spirit, Comforter, Advocate, Counselor, wind, breath, fire.  

There is much to say about Pentecost—the significance of the language barriers being broken down such that people could understand the Holy Spirit in their own language. The mix of confusion and marveling in wonder at the profound work of God among people from many regions of Mesopotamia. The words of the prophet Joel taking on new meaning in front of the gathered crowd, as Peter reminds the people that God said,  

“In the last days... 
‘that I will pour out my Spirit on all people, 
and your sons and your daughters will prophesy, 
and your young men will see visions, 
and your old men will dream dreams. 
18 Even on my servants, both men and women, 
I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy.” 

And so, on this day of Pentecost, surrounded by the red and orange of leaping flames and the tongues of flame lighting above every person’s head and the filling of each person with the Holy Spirit--my question for you today, church, is “are your hearts on fire?” and if you say “yes,” then I say, “for what?” 

Now, I’m not talking about heartburn in a medical sense, but the spiritual heartburn of righteous indignation, of a gut knowing that something needs to change, of prophetic speech that fills you with a fire-in-the-belly feeling. The apostle Peter felt his heart burn within him, felt the tongue of flame alight above his head—just a mere few weeks previously, he had denied knowing Jesus...and then now here he was, interpreting the meaning of a divine event in the midst of his community. Peter’s heart was on fire with love for God, on fire with the revelation of prophetic speech coming to fruition among them.  

 Debie Thomas writes in a commentary on this passage, “And this is what the Holy Spirit required of Christ's frightened disciples on the birthday of the Church.  Essentially: Stop huddling in what you call safety.  Throw open your windows and doors.  Feel the pressure of My hand against your backs, pour yourselves into the streets you've come to fear, and speak!  Don't you understand?  Silence is no longer possible; you are on fire.” 

Beloved church, for what do your hearts burn within your chests? For love of neighbor? For justice for the oppressed? For an end to gun violence? Do your hearts burn with the desire to protect our schoolchildren and our elders, our hope and our memory, from being shot down while going about their daily lives? Do your hearts burn with righteous passion that declares transgender children and teenagers beloved and that demands that they have access to gender-affirming healthcare? Do your hearts burn with love for our Black and indigenous and people of color siblings, that we will do all in our power to make sure they are seen as siblings made in God’s image?  

On this day of Pentecost, friends, I urge you to not quench that fire that burns in your heart. That fire is a reminder of the Holy Spirit moving in you and among us—the flame that promotes understanding across diversity; that moves you to speak even when your voice shakes; that prompts the children to prophesy and the young people to have visions and the elders to dream dreams. Do not let that flame in your heart go out, but let God work through you, following that flame wherever it may lead you.  

May it be so.  

 Preached on June 6, 2022 for Seattle First Baptist Church.