I don’t suppose it takes much for Sierra Vistans to imagine violent wind. It’s almost commonplace here. In Minnesota, we’d call this kind of wind “shears, or a tornado…” In Sierra Vista, we call it a Friday.
Friday was another “Red Flag” Day, meaning high winds and the high probability of messy hair, runny noses and vacant skies. I learned this, of course, when I called the police when I thought someone had broken in to a friend’s home, where I was charged to tend their house, plants and cats while they were away. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find a wide open door and no cats in sight. The culprit turned out to be no marauder, but the high winds that blew open their door.
The wind we experience is like the wind that was heard when it swooped into Jerusalem on that day of Pentecost so many years ago. The same wind that rattles our windows, fills our air with pollen, knocks down our trees and bursts open locked doors, this rushing wind is like the wind that howled and snapped through Jerusalem, filling the house where the apostles were staying.
I’ve learned that one needs to be prepared for windy conditions. A beautiful day can be ruined by the violent winds that bear blowing dust, which has a way to seep into unwelcome places. A cool day can be made frigid and unbearable by wind. Windbreakers, allergy medicines, sunglasses, hats and other such supplies are needed to survive.
The same ought to be said for the church, the place where we come to hear God’s living word. This living word is at work in and for both us and the world and is not our own word, but God’s word; this same God of whose will it is said is unsearchable, unknowable and always unexpected. This same Spirit that blows where it will, and hearing the sound of it we know neither whence it comes nor where it goes.
The faithful have to be prepared for all possibilities, for nothing is impossible for this God. We have to be suited for the conditions of faith and life in the church. Of course the opposite seems to be reality.
My favorite author, Annie Dillard, says this:
“On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely evoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to [spend] a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.” (Teaching a Stone to Talk, 52).
I can just see it now, instead of church signs that read trite slogans to entice people to join in, what if the church sign read:
Church: Hard Hat Area
It would evoke excitement, curiosity, adventure and awe. What will happen if we faithfully pray, “Come, Holy Spirit,” What will happen next? Where in the world might the church put its stakes down, invigorating and energizing creation, changing lives and welcoming strangers, working with God, in Christ and by the
Spirit’s power to grow the church by growing in God’s grace. Church: hard hats area. Come Holy Spirit.
When the Holy Spirit came, it brought with it divided tongues as of fire, each one resting on the head of the apostles. Tongues, or languages, rested on each and they were able to speak.
When the Holy Spirit swooped in with a rush of sound that was like a violent wind, and the devout Jews of every nation once scattered but now gathered in Jerusalem for the Jewish festival of Pentecost heard it, they rushed to the house where the apostles were staying and heard the gospel in their own language.
Parthians looked into the house expecting to see other Parthians, Pamphylians expected to see other Pamphylians, Cyrenians expected other Cyrenians and so on and so forth, but instead they saw a bunch of Galileans, poor, somewhat dirty and not well dressed.
Doubt surrounded those faithful people when they saw who it was speaking in their language. As we heard in the reading, they thought the apostles were drunk. But Peter, reminding them that it was 9 in the morning, told them that the spirits they were filled with was not wine, but the Holy Spirit. He reminded them of what the prophet Joel had said. Read Acts 2:17-18 (note that the Greek reads youth/elders).
When these foreigners heard the gospel in their native language, when the devout people of God heard of God’s mighty deeds in the language they’d heard since birth, faith was kindled and the church was born. On that day the church grew from 120 members to over 3,000.
The church then is where the spirit is poured out upon people, where men and women constantly prophesy or preach, where youth have visions and the elders dream dreams, and everyone hears the gospel in his or her own language. This is the church at its best, but it’s not how the church is usually defined, at least not these days.
So then, what is the church? We call this place our church. This A-framed roof with red pews and white and wooden beams. This gathering place where we meet on Sundays for worship, or Wednesdays for Confirmation or Thursdays for quilting, or Tuesday mornings for exercise.
As Sierra Evangelical Lutheran Church, we’ve celebrated 50 years as a called and gathered community.
But a church is more than some pillars, plaster, prayers and pews. The church is not just a place, the church is not just a building, the church is people gathered together, people serving one another, people lifting up their voices and praises to God in worship.
Martin Luther says it this way: The church is wherever the Word is properly preached and the Sacraments—Baptism and Holy Communion—are properly given. What’s more, the church is wherever people hear and receive God’s word of grace, mercy, forgiveness, justice and love, born on the cross and empowered by the resurrection as a word for them, as a promise for you.
The church is a body of believers – not a building. It’s not just the place we come to, dressed well and cleaned up, for our once a week check-up or check-in. The church is anywhere two or more believers share God’s word, where two or more pray, where two or more gather in Jesus’ name. The church follows you home on Sundays and into the world the rest of the days of the week.
I was reminded of this facet of the church earlier this weekend. I saw the church in thin, white paper bags that blew in the breeze, the violent wind of Sierra Vista, on these bags were the names of victims, survivors, family members who died from and lived through the always unexpected condition of Cancer.
In memory of Max G. and in honor of his friendship…In memory of Ross M., Tom S., Karin E., Guy H., Ned G…
In honor of Faye T., Pat T., Mary T., Shirley G., Carolyn L., Bobbie & Jon H., Lou M., Nancy G-E., Ingemarie F., Hal & Gerrit D., Julie M., Carolyn G., Bill H. and Greta S…just to name a few.
I saw stories of the church on each of those thin, white bags. You see, when people have faced the largest crises and the deepest sorrows, the church, the body of believers comes together to keep vigil in prayers, in hot dishes and in presence.
And the church extends beyond our membership rolls. Some of the names that I read on those thing white bags, I cannot share for hospital privacy policies, but names that nevertheless were lifted up by the faithful of SELC in donated prayer shawls, prayer shawls with beautiful strands of yarn knitted with love, prayers and concern for whomever would receive them.
Church: Hard Hat Area
The church is a hard-hat area because the church is always at work. You shouldn’t know what to expect, for we are not members with ownership or entitlement, but we are co-workers and surprises lurk around every corner. You can’t always see it or touch it and it might show up in the most unexpected places, somewhere where our right hands are hidden from our left hands, where faith is not yet sight, but where God is breathing his Spirit, in and for the world, in and for your life. Get your hard hats, there’s work to be done.
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