The Sign of Fire

Pentecost, circa 1025, Sanctuary Vault Mosaic, Hosios Loukas Monastery, Distomo, Greece, courtesy of Wikiart, click image to link.

Pentecost, Exodus 3:1-10, Acts of the Apostles 2:1-4, 14a, 22-32

Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. –Acts 2:3

A few years after I left Wichita, the church that I served there as associate pastor hired a firm to repair slate tiles on the roof.  During the repair, a roofer sparked a flame.  On a day with winds in excess of 20 mph, the flame quickly became a major fire. 

By the time the day was finished, many members were brought to tears as they gazed upon what had been one of the most beautiful Gothic-style churches in Kansas.  The roof above the limestone walls was gone.  The stained-glass windows had exploded from the heat.  The main floor of the nave was filled with black debris, smoldering and dripping with thousands of gallons of water from the fire hoses.  The lower level, including a six-thousand-volume library, carefully curated by a retired Wichita State University librarian, was waist deep in black sludge.

The Wichita fire, by God’s grace, led to some positive outcomes. It launched Plymouth Church on a journey toward renewal.  The church leaders completed a Ministry Plan, launched a capital campaign, and built a new facility that meets the needs of that congregation even better than the previous one.

Their story is a lesson to me that fire, though frightening and destructive, also holds power to bring renewal, whether it be in the annual burning of grasslands on the Great Plains, wildfires that clean dead wood from the floor of ancient forests, or sometimes even flames that consume an old building, and clear the way for new and better ways to house the ministries of a church.

At Pentecost, the church can’t avoid the sign of fire. The color red is used in our table cloth, banner, and stoles. When we ask “why?” the answer is that red symbolizes the “tongues of fire” by which the Holy Spirit made an appearance on the Day of Pentecost following Jesus’ resurrection and ascension.

The way the flames appeared to Jesus’ disciples bears some similarity to the way flames appeared to Moses in the Burning Bush. In both circumstances, the flames acted contrary to expectations. They shone brightly, but did not burn or consume what was touched. They appeared to function mainly as a visible sign that an invisible divine force was at work.

Just as God chose the burning-bush event as a moment to redirect Moses, so also God chose Pentecost for another dramatic turning in salvation history.  Fire, along with wind and strange languages, signaled the arrival of the Holy Spirit.  Peter preached a sermon, explaining that these things direct attention to Jesus,  crucified and risen.  Astonished crowds listened, and the Church began to thrive and flourish. Like a fire, the power of this new movement was confusing and frightening to those who encountered it.  But its power brought new life, too. 

The pattern established on the Day of Pentecost has been repeated many times in church history.  In one place or another, older cultural expressions of faith are burned away, replaced by something new. People usually have mixed feelings when they encounter new expressions of faith, because the old ways are more familiar, less frightening.

One particular congregation experienced such mixed feelings when it considered a change in its worship services.  Some members introduced a book of new hymns that spoke to them in ways that the old hymns did not. Other members felt that the new hymns didn’t reflect the tradition they knew and enjoyed.

It may surprise you to know that this struggle took place not recently, but during the 1750’s, among the people of the Presbyterian Church of New York City.  The hymns that were the subject of such concern were written by Isaac Watts, author of the hymn following this sermon, as well as about a dozen other beloved “old” songs in our hymn book. 

If you love what we call “old” hymns, then you can be grateful that Presbyterians of an earlier time did not allow their confusion and fear to overrule their good judgment.  They recognized that the songs had a power to connect new generations to the Good News of Jesus Christ.  By giving the new a chance rather than rejecting it outright, they put themselves in a position in which the fire of God’s revelation could be life giving.

On May 15, the Strategic Planning Team presented goals and objectives to the session for review. The team’s work is based upon a congregational survey last fall, refined through a survey of the session and various committees and task groups. From five general goals and sixteen particular objectives, the team produced a short list of three general goals and three particular objectives. Next steps include giving greater clarity to the objectives. The team will work toward consensus about who is responsible and what resources are needed to achieve the objectives.

There are goals and objectives that address the practice of evangelism, and the use of this building and campus by the community, and how we might become a more diverse and inclusive community of faith – but I’m not going to spell out each goal and objective in this sermon. One reason is that they will be refined during the months ahead. Another is that you can read my “Pastor’s Note” in the June newsletter to learn more.

For purposes of this sermon, I’d like you to consider the way in which strategic planning can be something like looking for the sign of fire, drawing our attention to new ways God is at work.  Some people see strategic planning as only an encroachment of business culture and values on the church’s ministries. But couldn’t it rather be true that the Church first modeled listening for a calling, and living with purpose, and now, while corporate America does these things, the Church in many places has forgotten them. I think that when we practice strategic planning well, it’s something much richer than a business technique. Strategic planning can be an exercise in articulating our most deeply held convictions and values. When we make time to discern God’s call, and agree upon how we will follow it, then we are expressing a belief that God isn’t through with us yet. We are saying that there’s no time for apathy and inaction because God still is calling us to do important work.

The celebration of Pentecost always challenges any apathy and powerlessness that Christians may feel. Pentecost reminds us that Jesus’ physical departure didn’t lead to God’s absence from our world, but rather to the coming of the Holy Spirit. Sure, from time to time, we can expect to feel as confused and tired as Jesus’ disciples in the days of the early Church. The sign of fire is bound to cause some confusion and fear, but it has the power to bring renewal.  May we, like the early disciples, become more sensitive to the Spirit’s presence and call to more fully love God, family, church, community, and this earth. If we trust God to live with just a little less fear and a little more hope, then the sign of fire will a reminder that God is at work to bring hope and new life to our troubled world.

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