“It's A Good Thing You Can Preach” 

Acts 2:1-21 

It has entered into the lore of the Heins family.  It is something that personally I would like to forget, but it always comes back to haunt me. If you spend any time around my family, it is bound to come up sooner or later.  But just to set the record straight, I would like to tell you about the great fire of '94.  I know the date exactly, April 26^th, 1994 because it happened to be Carrie's birthday. I was preparing a very special dinner for her, an Indonesian feast, her favorite.  I thought that I would top off the feast with krupuk, an Indonesian shrimp chip that comes in very hard strips. When you put them in hot oil, they expand to about this big.  They are very good.   

After I had put the oil on the burner, and as I was cutting some vegetables, the phone rang.  It was Carrie, and she told me that she was coming home early.  Oh, oh. Now, I always have everything planned and taken care of far in advance…well, sometimes…ok very rarely. I had wanted to have everything ready to greet her when she walked in the door: flowers, cards, gifts, the whole bit.  Well, her phone call put me in a panic because there were several things I still had to get.  So I grabbed the keys and ran out the door.   

As I was driving around, something in the back of my mind bothered me. I finally began to wonder whether I had turned the fire out underneath the oil, and I decided to go back and see.  By the time I had come back, smoke was coming out the back door and the alarm was going off. As I went in, I saw Satchmo our Labrador retriever, running toward me with a look of panic.  I let him out and went into the kitchen.  The pan was on fire, and the cabinets above and to the side were on fire. I used a small fire extinguisher, but that was not enough; and determining that things were beyond my control, I called the fire department and waited outside.  It was a scary moment. I was thankful that no one was hurt.  The fire had not made it into the walls. Our neighbor suffered no damage. Eventually, Carrie would laugh and thank me for her birthday present: a brand new kitchen.   

Fire is a dangerous and scary thing when it gets out of our control.  It has a great power to destroy, to consume.  Very rightly, we seek to protect ourselves from it with smoke detectors, fire extinguishers, insurance, and millions of dollars on fire fighting crews and equipment.  After our experience, I now know why.   

Yet, at the same time, fire can have a mysterious attraction to it, can't it?  We have fireplaces, candles of all kinds.  How many of you have passed you finger through the flame of a candle.  A fire can bring warmth, and light, and atmosphere, But only if it can remain safely under control.    

The moment that it slips beyond our control, it becomes a very scary and dangerous thing. 

The fire that we encounter in our bible story this morning is just this kind of fire. It is the kind of fire that has a mysterious attraction to it. It draws people to its warmth and light. It thaws frozen hearts and limbs. It purifies. It stirs passion and inspires sermons that change lives. It is good, this fire.

But truth be told, it is also scary this fire. It is scary because it indeed consumes. It is scary because it destroys many parts of our lives that we would rather hold onto and keep. It is scary, this fire of the Spirit, because no matter how hard we try to snuff it out, no matter how hard we try to manage or control it, it is ever and always out of our control. That's scary.  

This fire is the Spirit of God who proclaims through the prophet Isaiah, “my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD.” I will do things my way thank you! 

The title of this book we are reading from is entitled the Acts of the Apostles, but as many commentators have noted before me, this is a misleading title. A more descriptive title of what actually happens in this story would be “the Acts of the Spirit…with the human disciples stumbling behind and trying to catch up.” This is the story of Acts. This is the story of Pentecost.  

You remember the disciples. Last week they were given a mission and promised power. They waited in prayer. As they waited, lo and behold, something miraculous happened!  As they waited together in one place, there was the sound of a violent wind and it filled the entire house.  Tongues like fire rested upon each one of them.  It was the baptism of the Spirit.  They began to preach, boy did they begin to preach, in languages that stretched across the world.  The crowds that gathered at the strange sound, Jews from every nation under heaven, heard the good news in their very own native tongue.  “Wait a minute, aren't these all Galileans, folks from the country?”

Yes, this was the same rag-tag group of Galileans that had so recently abandoned Jesus in his moment of need, but now they were preachers, proclaimers of God's deeds of power.  In that upper room, they were transformed from a rag-tag, insignificant group into a community that would soon change the world with a powerful message that they proclaimed in word and deed.   

The difference between the rag-tag group of country folk and the powerful world changing community? The fire of God's spirit, the fire that had rested upon each one of them at Pentecost. The fire gave them words to say. It lead them to where God wanted them to go. It empowered them to do things they never imagined they could do.  

It was a fire that simply could not be contained.   

There are two ways to look at this text. We can look at it as an event in the past; to be remembered and celebrated, but remaining, nicely, conveniently, safely, in the past.  

Or we can hear the texts invitation this morning to play with this fire ourselves, to dare to preach the good news of peace and justice, healing and wholeness to our world in 2007.  

The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote in The Trumpet of Conscience words that have been most convicting and motivating to me. “We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.  Human progress never rolled in on the wheels of inevitability, but on the tireless efforts of the men and women willing to be co-workers with God.” 

Dr. King was not afraid to play with fire. He knew the world needed it. 

What about us? Are we willing to be co-workers with God? 

We have placed preaching cards in the pews, to give you a chance to raise issues and ask questions that you would like to have addressed in worship or in a sermon. I have learned something from the handful that I have received. As an organization, we might prefer to manage the fire, to make sure that we don't feel too much of its heat. But as individuals, there is hunger for truth, hunger for words of life. There is hunger to address the issues that plague us today. 

I have receive cards asking about the nature of family in Christian faith, about evolution and the bible, and about our responsibility to speak out about issues of public policy (specifically Iraq). All of these are issues that are controversial today. We could ignore them. Or we can put them to the test of the fire. 

As a preacher, I will address these issues in the weeks to come, but on this Pentecost Sunday, I would like to suggest something to you. When faced with these issues, there is not one preacher here this morning, but many. Luke, the storyteller, is explicit. The flame of the Spirit on Pentecost did not rest on one or two of the believers, but on each one of them.  

Martin Luther put it this way, “Everyone, by virtue of baptism, is called to preach. All baptized Christians are expected to speak the Gospel to their neighbors, to testify to the mighty works of God, to tell people about Jesus.” The thing is, on Sunday morning, we can't all possibly speak at the same time and be understood, so some of the baptized are designated to be preachers. That's me. We are the ones who speak on Sunday morning so that the rest of us may speak about Jesus Monday through Saturday morning. The preacher preaches, so that the congregation may preach.  

Like it or not, if you are a Christian, you are called to bear witness, to testify to the hope that is within you, to tell people about Jesus. I admit that I have an easier task of being a preacher than you have of being a preacher.  

This hour is set aside, and the service and sanctuary is arranged in part to facilitate my calling, to preach the Word.  

But tomorrow, when you get into the classroom or workplace, or up to the University campus, or over the kitchen table, preaching can be more difficult. When we face the issues that we face in our daily lives, with the decisions that we are required to make, with the politicians that we elect, with war currently raging, and so many presently hurting and hungry, preaching can be tough. It entails risk. It can be very much like playing with fire.  

Nevertheless, by the grace of God, you are able to preach. That's got to be one of the main points of Acts 2. Before Pentecost, Jesus had been raised from the dead, shown to be Lord and Savior, but nobody knew how to talk about it. Few possessed the courage to speak of such a thing. Then the Holy Spirit descended, and things were brought to speech. People began to talk to talk to one another, then to talk to people out in the streets. This is how the word of life spreads, not only through my lips and hands, but through yours.

It is our mission as a church to nurture preachers: to encounter the word, wrestle with it, to, in many cases, be burned by it (that is to say purified by it). Then we are called to preach, all of us who follow Jesus.  

Last week we played softball at the church picnic. The pastor came late to the game, but soon wished that he had missed the whole thing. I stepped up to the plate ready to smash that softball to high heaven, but instead, over the course of three at bats, took nine of the ugliest swings you have ever seen.  

In the middle of these less than perfect swings, members of this congregation, this fellowship, had the nerve to diss the pastor! I took it as a sign that you are becoming more comfortable with me.  

After one particular swing, (don't worry, I won't embarrass you, but you know who you are), I heard someone say, “It's a good thing he can preach.”  

Well, the fire of God's Spirit is here today. It is out of our control. The good news of the gospel has come to us. After the benediction has been said and Go Now In Peace has been sung, when you go out the doors, when you go to work, when you go to class, when you participate in your summer activities, when you participate in the ministries of this church, I am not the preacher. You are.  

Is that a scary thought? Perhaps.  

But we live in a world where there is much darkness and need. It needs good news.  

It's a good thing, you can preach.

 
 

May 27, 2007

Rev. Paul Heins

First Presbyterian Church

Logan, Utah