Wind, wind

I’ll try to avoid talking about the dog walk this morning – it would have been a nice morning for January, not so great in late May.

However, sitting in my prayer window afterwards, I was watching the effect of the wind on the long grass of the field beside the house. It rippled through the leaves, blowing hard in one direction and then pausing, rippling the grass randomly, before resuming its blow in one direction, almost like waves on the sea.

Pentecost was last Sunday, the day that Christians remember God sent the Holy Spirit to live in and help human beings. The Spirit is sometimes likened to a wind, in that although you can’t really see him, you can see the effect he is having on people. He stirs them up with love and passion, passion for God, for good, for Jesus. He stirs them up with life and a desire to spread good news which brings joy and peace to people. 

I was first stirred up over thirty years ago, and ever since then I have continued to feel stirred by the Spirit, stirred to love, to forgive, to encourage, to bless others. But sometimes I’ve allowed the wind to die in me, or, if not exactly die, just subside briefly. Paul encouraged his protégé Timothy to ‘fan into flame’ the Spirit within him.

On the first Pentecost, the whole neighbourhood in which the disciples were hiding out in fear was rocked by the mighty wind of the Spirit, which then sent the disciples out onto the streets where they talked about the goodness of God in a whole variety of languages. 

The people to whom they spoke were stirred up. Over three thousand put their faith in Jesus that day, faith in him to give them peace and joy, wisdom and strength, love and life.

Forever.

May the wind of the Spirit stir in your heart today, and continue to rage on in mine.