Breath and Wind: A Sermon for the Day of Pentecost

Emily and I were having a conversation yesterday morning over breakfast and a cup of coffee. As we were both preparing our hearts and minds to preach today, the Holy Spirit was the topic of our discussion. What emerged was the different ways we understand and have experienced the Holy Spirit in our lives, as well as in the lives of others.

I pointed out that if we are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever, then aren’t all Christians filled with the Holy Spirit already? And if so, what does it mean when we say that “I had a Holy Spirit moment,” or the Spirit “came upon me”, or him, or her, or them?

Is the Christian vocation about unearthing the Holy Spirit that is already within us or is it seeking or inviting the Holy Spirit to come upon us? And as is oftentimes the case, Emily and I landed on the paradox of “both/and.”

Of course, the moment in salvation history that we are celebrating today - the Day of Pentecost – certainly falls in the “Spirit came upon us” category. But just as is the case with the Holy Eucharist that we will celebrate in a few moments, we are not just remembering and celebrating something that happened a long time ago that was recorded in the Bible. On the Day of Pentecost, we are remembering a past event while simultaneously entering into the reality of that event here and now. We are claiming that what happened then has also happened to us in our baptisms, when we were sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.

But we are also called to be so audacious as to hope, believe and expect God’s Holy Spirit to blow in, upon, and around us throughout our earthly lives, not just at our baptism. And this goes for us as individuals as well as for us as the Body of the Christ, the Church.

Our Sunday morning Adult Christian Formation class here at Christ the King has been studying the Apostles’ Creed the past several weeks. Last Sunday, our focus was on the Holy Spirit, and the class was so inspiring, and with Pentecost approaching, I asked John French to offer it again to our Friday morning Men’s Bible Study. In it, John pointed out that the Hebrew word that is used to reference God’s Holy Spirit is ruah, which is best translated as spirit, breath or wind.

And as Emily and I were talking about this yesterday, she adeptly pointed out that when we talk about God’s Spirit already indwelling each and every one of us, that points to the “breath” translation of ruah. If God’s Spirit is breath, each and every time we breathe in and out, we are breathing God’s Holy Spirit. We are by our very human nature Spirit-filled beings. But most of the time, when we breathe automatically and without thinking or focusing on it, our breathing is shallow.

But if you have ever practiced intentional slow, deep breathing, whether it is in breath prayers, Centering Prayer, Yoga, or other forms of meditation, you know that this is a fruitful spiritual practice. Our shallow breathing becomes deep, and in that deep breathing, we become more centered and less anxious. We are tapping into God’s Spirit that is already within us, ready to be unearthed and released into the world.

For many of us, this indwelling Spirit within us is most often unearthed and unleashed through prayer, worship, receiving communion, singing hymns, or spiritual reading and devotions. By engaging in these intentional practices of the Christian ascetical life, we become better attuned to how and where God’s Spirit is moving and acting in our lives and in the lives of those around us.

Regardless of how we are mostly likely to experience God’s indwelling Holy Spirit – we are all different in that regard – the Christian call to discipleship is for us to always strive to go deeper. God’s breath is not a shallow breath; God’s breath is deep, slow, and intentional. In our Gospel lesson today, Jesus sends his Holy Spirit upon his disciples in the Upper Room by breathing on them. This Holy Spirit-filled breath was slow, measured, intentional, and purposeful.

But then there’s ruah, the wind. Scripture and experience tells us that God’s Holy Spirit is not always automatic, slow, and steady like our breath. Our lesson from the Acts of the Apostles today highlights the Spirit as “the rush of a violent wind” – followed by “divided tongues, as of fire!” For many of us in the more mainline, dare I say “orderly” liturgical traditions, such a manifestation of God’s Holy Spirit might feel a bit foreign and perhaps even frightening or off-putting. We can control our breath. We can choose to sit still and breathe deeply and ask God's Spirit to be revealed to us in that moment. In that context we have this sense of agency and participation in the matter. We are seeking to go deeper and to experience God’s and dwelling Spirit.

But most of us are likely not hoping for or expecting the rush of a violent wind to come upon us, particularly those of us who live here on the coast! This manifestation of God's Holy Spirit can make us uncomfortable because it is unpredictable beyond our control. What if, in the midst of the rush of wind, God calls me as an individual or us as a community to do something that feels spontaneous, risky, or beyond our comfort zone? Are we up to the challenges that God may place before us?

I don't know if it's because Pentecost has been approaching, but I have been experiencing the Spirit’s windiness over the past several days. An example of how I have had a powerful experience of God's Holy Spirit moving in and around me was a week ago yesterday at the South Walton High School graduation ceremony. I went to celebrate the four Christ the King members who were graduating from South Walton High - Noah Dalbey, Jamie Gavigan, Vivian Moore, and Meril Lagasse. As it turns out, Noah gave the Commencement address, which in and of itself was a Holy Spirit moment. When I met Noah eight years ago, I could hardly understand a word he was saying. If you had told me then that he would end up giving the commencement address for his high school graduation, I would have called you crazy. You see, Noah was born in China with a cleft palate. Because of this birth defect, his biological parents dropped him off at a police station when he was born, and they were never to be seen or heard from again. The police then dropped Noah off at an orphanage for children with similar circumstances.

Meanwhile, Dale Dalby was living in Birmingham AL and wanted to adopt a child. But because he was a single man, he was not allowed to adopt a child in Alabama. So, to make a long story short Dale, ended up adopting Noah from the orphanage in China, and lo and behold 18 years later here was this child - who as an infant had been left to die - graduating summa cum laude and giving the commencement address at his high school.

How was it that I was able to understand Noah when he was speaking that night when just eight years ago I was unable to do so? In the 18 years of his life Noah has undergone fourteen major surgeries on his mouth, jaw, and nose. It has been a slow, rigorous, painful, and expensive process for him and for Dale. But now, Noah will be attending the honors college at University of Alabama Birmingham on scholarship to study physical therapy so he can help others with their physical pain and ailments.

My friends, Dale’s and Noah's story is a profound example of both God’s slow, steady, indwelling breath and God's unpredictable, violent, rushing wind converging to make a way out of no way. And that is what God’s Holy Spirit has done, can do, and will continue to do. As Christians, we aren’t called to be passive recipients of the gift of the Holy Spirit. Rather, we are called to actively listen for, seek, participate in, and respond to the blessings of the Spirit, just as Dale and Noah did and are continuing to do.

Dale Dalbey will be the first to tell you that he couldn’t have raised Noah the way he did without the help of his mother Cheryl, and his church family here at Christ the King. Dale made it a priority to raise Noah in the church, even when Noah was one of the only children here. Dale will tell you that for many years it was rarely without a struggle to get Noah to attend church, as there were very few young children and youth at the time. But he didn’t give Noah a choice. And Dale made an intentional decision not do travel sports because as a single parent, it meant that Dale would also have to miss church every Sunday. And for Dale, that simply wasn’t an option for him and Noah.

Dale knew that both he and Noah needed the community of Christ’s Body for Noah to thrive as a child with medical challenges being raised by a single parent. And through the years, I’m sure that most of the time, if he and Noah ever felt the power of the Holy Spirit, it was more slow, steady, and deliberate – the way we experience God’s indwelling Spirit through the habit of regular worship, prayer, Christian formation, and community. But when Noah got confirmed last year, and when he gave the commencement address at his high school graduation this year, I imagine that God’s Holy Spirit – God’s ruah - felt more like a violent, rushing wind. I know that it did for me.

The convergence of God’s ruah – God’s deep, deliberate, life-giving breath with God’s surprising, unpredictable, swirling wind – in the life of Noah and Dale Dalbey are a great way for us to think about Pentecost. And there are many other Pentecost stories within our parish. We should celebrate them more, and I hope that we continue to do that by recognizing, naming, and celebrating these people and these moments in our lives. God’s Holy Spirit is alive and well, moving and breathing deep within us; and God’s Holy Spirit is also prone to blow into our lives in such a way that we are caught off guard, surprised, and perhaps even afraid. Either way, God is in the breath and God is in the wind. And both are gifts in which we as individuals and we as Christ’s Body, the Church shall rejoice, be glad, and respond!