Luke has a great sense of symmetry, and his traditions are organized in orderly patterns of time and space. The ministry of Jesus began with the descending of the Spirit, and so Jesus progresses from the provinces to the city of Jerusalem. Now the life of the church begins in Jerusalem, in the Temple, with the descending of the Spirit on the disciples, and in the power of that Spirit they will bear witness in words and actions and through martyrdom far beyond the lands traversed by Jesus. The Book of Acts itself brings the witness all the way to Rome, the capital of the world that Luke knew.

Now the Spirit is the energy and the guide engineering the life and expansion of the church in the world of the Jewish diaspora and through it to the Gentile world. . . .The Acts of the Apostles could just as well, or even better, be called “the Acts of the Holy Spirit,” and there are indeed few chapters in the book without specific references to such acts. . . . It is striking that the followers of Jesus did not dream themselves back to the time when he had walked with them and talked with them. It is astonishing how small a role the words of Jesus, which were later made part of our Gospels, play in the early Christian writings, the letters of Paul and of others, and even in Luke’s account of the first decades of the church. . . .They did not look back in nostalgia. They looked forward and they lived powerfully in the now of the Holy Spirit. One really feels the truth of Jesus’ words of farewell in the Gospel of John: . . . “I have yet many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, it will guide you into all truth.”

Thus, when we pray: Come, Holy Spirit, our prayer is well in keeping with the mode and mood of faith which was tried and tested as the church began to understand itself, its promises, and its identity.

From “Come, Holy Spirit—Renew the Whole Creation” by Krister Stendahl, in The Best Christian Writing 2000, John Wilson, series editor (Harper SanFrancisco, 2000).

Of all the persons of the Trinity, I suppose the Holy Spirit is the hardest to define. Most of us can at least begin to describe the other two: God the Father, creator of heaven and earth, who makes the sun shine and the rain fall. God the Son, who was human like us: our savior, teacher, helper, and friend. But how would you describe God the Holy Spirit to a five-year-old child? Even Jesus had a hard time with that one. “The Spirit blows where it chooses,” he said in John’s gospel, “and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes” (3:8).

There is some very fine teaching available on the Holy Spirit, and I hope none of you is satisfied with it. I hope none of you rests until you have felt the Holy Spirit blow through your own life, rearranging things, opening things up and maybe even setting your own head on fire. There is nothing you can do to make it happen, as far as I know, except to pray “Come, Holy Spirit” every chance you get. If you don’t want anything to change in your life, then for heaven’s sake don’t pray that, but if you are the type of person who likes to stand out on the porch when there is a storm moving through so you can feel the power that is pushing the trees around, then you are probably a good candidate for the Holy Spirit prayer.

From “The Gospel of the Holy Spirit” in Home By Another Way by Barbara Brown Taylor (Cowley, 1999).

Did you know the word “conspire” means to breathe together? Take a breath. Now blow it out again. There! You have just launched a conspiracy. You can hear the word “spirit” in there too—to conspire—to be filled with the same spirit, to be enlivened by the same wind. That is why the word appeals to me, anyhow. What happens between us when we come together to worship God is that the Holy Spirit swoops in and out among us, knitting us together through the songs we sing, the prayers we pray, the breaths we breathe. It can happen with two people and it can happen with two thousand people. It can scare us or comfort us, confuse us or clarify things for us, but as far as I can tell the Holy Spirit never bullies us. We are always free to choose whether or how we will respond. . . .

In the book of Acts, we learn the good news of what God did through the Holy Spirit, by performing artificial resuscitation on a room full of well-intentioned bumblers and turning them into a force that changed the history of the world. The question for me is whether we still believe in a God who acts like that. Do we still believe in a God who blows through closed doors and sets our heads on fire? Do we still believe in a God with power to transform us, both as individuals and as a people, or have we come to an unspoken agreement that our God is pretty old and tired by now, someone to whom we may address our prayer requests but not anyone we really expect to change our lives?

From “The Gospel of the Holy Spirit” in Home By Another Way by Barbara Brown Taylor (Cowley, 1999).

To understand Luke’s Pentecost it is necessary to understand that the gospel doesn’t just go to the ends of the earth; the ends of the earth are present from the very first day. There is no secondhand, third-hand or fourth-hand faith. There is no church or nation that can say, “It belonged to us and now we are going to give it to you through our benevolence, evangelism, and mission work.” No, No, No! Our listeners rise up and say, “We were there that same opening day you were there.” For any church that would be Pentecostal, Pentecost removes all ground for any sense of triumphalism, for that ugly sense of arrogance and superiority that takes over the church sometimes simply because we get the notion that the salvation of other people in the world depends upon our behavior. Luke says it started in all the world at the same time. . . .

Luke’s word for us is simply this: “Do you want to be Pentecostal in a good, healthy, lively, renewing sense? Do you want the church to be Pentecostal? Then spend some thoughtful, careful, prayerful, listening time—listening to the listeners, in their concrete, historical circumstances.” And if we listen to the listeners, carefully, prayerfully, thoughtfully, then we will notice, and will stand among them and say, “I think I speak for every person here, Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Europeans, Asians, Americans, Chinese, Africans, South Americans . . . I think I speak for every person here when I ask, “Show us God and we’ll be satisfied.”

From “On Being Pentecostal” by Fred B. Craddock, quoted in Best Sermons 1 edited by James W. Cox (Harper & Row, 1988).

The book of 1549 was a tremendous achievement and has earned for Thomas Cranmer, who as far as we know produced it almost single-handed, a place in the first rank of the liturgists of Christendom. In view of its excellence, it is astonishing that it was used in English churches for only three years. Yet when one considers what a moderate and irenic production it was, intended to reconcile opposing points of view so that all England could worship as a united body of Christians, it is not so surprising that it should finally have pleased no one—as so often happens with compromises. In any case it was withdrawn under pressure in 1552 and another book substituted for it. . . .

What we need to observe now is the fact that no liturgical production is perfect, nor will it satisfy the needs of the church forever. Not only did the book of 1549 not go as far in a Protestant direction as the ruling powers desired, but it also had other liabilities that later generations have discovered. Some of these it passed on to its successors.

In some cases its work of removing the accretions of generations did not go far enough. The service of baptism is a good example. In some cases, the book went too far and eliminated valuable liturgical material that has only gradually been recovered. The special services for Holy Week are an example. . . .

Even with these faults, the English Book of Common Prayer and its counterparts in many countries around the world have been an unusually effective means for proclaiming the Gospel. Gospel is good news, and news can be spread only by telling other people about it. It cannot be figured out like a puzzle or dredged out of our subconscious minds by meditation or analysis. . . .The effectiveness of the Book of Common Prayer in proclaiming what God has done for us in Christ is connected in the first place to its intelligibility. When the acts of God are told in a strange tongue, they can hardly be appropriated. . . .From one end of the Prayer Book to the other, in Daily Office, Eucharist, Pastoral Offices, and Ordinal, the English liturgy has vividly proclaimed the great deliverance God has brought to us through his people Israel, and most of all, though his Son, Jesus Christ.

From Liturgy for Living, revised edition, by Charles P. Price and Louis Weil. Copyright © 1979, 2000. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Pentecost is a noun. It is a good noun, strong and clear, confident of its identity, able to stand up in any room and say what it is. That’s what nouns are; that’s what nouns do. If you want definitions, nouns can give you definitions. Pentecost: An early harvest festival celebrated in the ancient Near East, among many peoples, including the Jews. Pentecost: An early harvest festival transformed into a celebration of the revelation of the law given at Sinai. Pentecost: The birthday of the church. Pentecost: A festival celebrated fifty days after Easter or, in Judaism, seven weeks and one day after Passover. Pentecost: The last day of the liturgical year and the beginning of ordinary time. Pentecost: The last Sunday of Easter. Pentecost is a noun: clear-eyed, level-gazed, certain of its identity.

But when you make Pentecost into an adjective, it grows anxious, nervous, and uncertain, standing first on one foot, then on the other. It wants to be a good adjective, as it runs around looking for a noun to modify, but doesn’t know which nouns and doesn’t know what we are talking about. The adjective is “Pentecostal.” We don’t admit we don’t know; we use the word and assume we know. . . . In spite of the fact that the church doesn’t know what the adjective means, the church insists that the word remain in our vocabulary as an adjective. The church is unwilling for the word simply to be a noun, to represent a date, a place, an event in the history of the church, refuses for it to be simply a memory, an item, something back there somewhere. The church insists the word is an adjective; it describes the church. . . . In the renewal of its life and witness, especially in times of faltering evangelism, the church seeks to reclaim, to recover that quality, perhaps reading, praying, asking, thinking, reflecting again on Pentecost. Perhaps that day will not be just a memory, but also a hope, something that will occur again.

From “On Being Pentecostal” by Fred B. Craddock, quoted in Best Sermons 1 edited by James W. Cox (Harper & Row, 1988).

Christ has gathered the church in unity through the Spirit. With sure hope, let us pray:
Lord, hear our prayer.

Maker of all things, in the beginning, you created heaven and earth. In the fullness of time, you restored all things in Christ. Renew our world, in this day, with your grace and mercy.
Lord, hear our prayer.

Life of the world, you breathed life into the flesh you created. Now, by your Spirit, breathe new life into the children of earth. Turn hatred into love, sorrow into joy, and war into peace.
Lord, hear our prayer.

Lover of concord, you desire the unity of all Christians. Set aflame the whole church with the fire of your Spirit. Unite us to stand in the world as a sign of your love.
Lord, hear our prayer.

God of compassion, through your Spirit you supply every human need. Heal the sick, and comfort the distressed. Befriend the friendless, and help the helpless.
Lord, hear our prayer.

Source of peace, your Spirit restores our anxious spirits. In our labor, give us rest; in our temptation, strength; in our sadness, consolation.
Lord, hear our prayer.

After a brief silence, the leader concludes the litany:

God eternal, as you sent upon the disciples the promised gift of the Holy Spirit, look upon your church and open our hearts to the power of the Holy Spirit. Kindle in us the fire of your love, and strengthen our lives for service in your kingdom; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

“A Litany for Pentecost” from the Book of Common Worship (1993), quoted in The Wideness of God’s Mercy: Litanies to Enlarge Our Prayer, revised and updated edition, compiled and adapted by Jeffery Rowthorn with W. Alfred Tisdale. Copyright © 2007. Used by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated, New York, NY. www.churchpublishing.org

Recognize to whom you owe the fact that you exist, that you breathe, that you understand, that you are wise, and, above all, that you know God and hope for the kingdom of heaven and the vision of glory. . . . Is it not God who asks you now in your turn to show yourself generous above all other creatures and for the sake of all other creatures? Because we have received from him so many wonderful gifts, will we not be ashamed to refuse him this one thing only, our generosity? Though he is God and Lord he is not afraid to be known as our Father. Shall we for our part repudiate those who are our kith and kin?

Friends, let us never allow ourselves to misuse what has been given us by God’s gift. If we do, we shall hear Saint Peter say: “Be ashamed of yourselves for holding on to what belongs to someone else. Resolve to imitate God’s justice, and no one will be poor.” Let us not labor to heap up and hoard riches while others remain in need. If we do, the prophet Amos will speak out against us with sharp and threatening words: “Come now, you that say: When will the new moon be over, so that we may start selling? When will Sabbath be over, so that we may start opening our treasures?”

Let us put into practice the supreme and primary law of God. He sends down rain on just and sinful alike, and causes the sun to rise on all without distinction. To all earth’s creatures he has given the broad earth, the springs, the rivers and the forests. He has given the air to the birds, and the waters to those who live in water. He has given abundantly to all the basic needs of life, not as a private possession, not restricted by law, no divided by boundaries, but as common to all, amply and in rich measure. His gifts are not deficient in any way, because he wanted to give equality of blessing to equality of worth, and to show the abundance of his generosity.

From Oration 14: On the Love of the Poor by Gregory of Nazianzus, quoted in Readings for the Daily Office from the Early Church, edited by J. Robert Wright. Copyright © 1991. Used by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated, New York, NY. www.churchpublishing.org

From the time that it was shown, I desired frequently to know what our Lord’s meaning was. And fifteen years after (and more) I was answered in spiritual understanding, saying thus:
“Wouldst thou know thy Lord’s meaning in this thing?
Be well aware:
love was his meaning.
Who showed it thee? Love.
What showed He thee? Love.
Why did He show it thee? For love.
Keep thyself in that love and thou shalt know and see more of the same,
but thou shalt never see nor know any other thing therein without end.”

Thus was I taught that love was our Lord’s meaning.
And I saw full certainly in this and in all the showings,
that before God made us, He loved us
and this love was never slackened
nor ever shall be.

In this love He has done all His works,
and in this love He has made all things beneficial to us,
and in this love our life is everlasting.

In our creation we had a beginning,
but the love in which He created us was in Him from without beginning,
and in this love we have our beginning.

And all this we shall see in God without end,
which may Jesus grant us. Amen.

From A Lesson of Love: The Revelations of Julian of Norwich, edited and translated for devotional use by Father John-Julian, OJN (Walker and Company, 1988).

For the sake of love let us all pray
together with God’s working—
thanking,
trusting,
rejoicing,
for thus would our good Lord be prayed to
(as is the understanding that I received in all His own meaning, and in the sweet words where He says most merrily, “I am the basis of thy praying”).

Truly I saw and understood in our Lord’s meaning that He showed it because He wished to have it known more than it is,
and in this knowledge He will give us grace to love Him
and cleave to Him.

For He beholds His heavenly treasure with such great love on earth
that He wills to give us more light and solace in heavenly joy by
drawing our hearts from the sorrow and darkness
which we are in.

From A Lesson of Love: The Revelations of Julian of Norwich, edited and translated for devotional use by Father John-Julian, OJN (Walker and Company, 1988).

When I was just out of college, I was going through a particularly rough time. I was alone in a new town, far away from home and family and friends, and trying to figure out a new job, cope with an eccentric boss, and learn a new way of life. It was a rough transition. I was starting over from scratch, building a new life. It was hard and lonely work.

One day I received a greeting card in the mail from a friend who knew that I had been down about all this. The front of the card said, “Keep looking down.”

I reacted with a smirk. I’m already looking down! That’s my problem! But then I opened the card. “Keep looking down . . . you are seated with Christ in the heavenlies.”

According to Ephesians 2:6, that’s the way Jesus looks at our lives. We’re already with him in eternity. We are living above the counterfeit and have entered into the authentic. We are beyond the temporal and temporary and fleeting, and we are living in the eternal with the one who loves us so much he died for us.

Jesus knew his death was approaching. He knew the purpose of that death: to give “real and eternal” life to those who had entered into his circle of love. You are in that circle now. It is the circle of those who know God, the one and only true God, and the Son whom he sent. It is the circle of those who are living, right now, the “real and eternal life.”

Realizing this can put your life into context. The fears, doubts, loneliness, and longings you may be feeling are not the ultimate reality. Yes, they’re real. You feel them deeply. But they are temporary. They’re not the whole story. The real and eternal life you’ve been given is happening right now.

Do you realize it? Can you see it?

From “The Eternal Now” in Living Loved: Knowing Jesus as the Lover of Your Soul by Peter Wallace. Copyright © 2007. Used by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated, New York, NY. www.churchpublishing.org

So, time to ask a question. How will church unity happen? What will it take to draw us together? Answer: Jesus Christ. . . .Our only loyalty is to Jesus Christ, who died so that something new might happen in the world. We are called to follow him all the way to the cross, willing to die as denominations for God’s future. For in God’s strange ways, new life can only come by death and resurrection. There’s a great story about the artist Rodin, who one day saw a huge, carved crucifix beside a road. He arranged to have the crucifix carted back to his house. But, unfortunately, it was too big for the building. So, of all things, he knocked out the walls, raised the roof, and rebuilt his home around the cross. The calling of the American church! How can we let go of ourselves and, renewed by Jesus Christ, rebuild ourselves into the larger Church, the one Church that dares follow Jesus Christ? Bluntly, we must be willing to die as denominations so that a new, freer, braver, united Christian word may be spoken. . . .

You wonder how church unity survives, particularly nowadays when denominations are digging in. Do you know the secret? Because church unity is clearly a part of God’s future, that’s why. And you who are here, you must be brave enough to sit loose in your traditions, not holding onto yourselves too much. For in Spirit you know we are meant to be one—one in faith, with one Lord, under one holy God. Amen.

From “The Churchless Kingdom of God” by David G. Buttrick, quoted in Best Sermons 3 edited by James W. Cox (Harper & Row, 1990).

The good news of God is trapped in competitive Christianity. Yes, we know we are supposed to reach out with the gospel. And surely we are meant to spread Christ’s love throughout the earth. But, there are too many steeples to keep painted. Too many church lawns to be mowed. We spend ourselves in maintenance! Let’s take a case in point. A few years ago there was a town in West Virginia—a little more than five thousand people. Yet they had twenty-seven churches there lined up in a row. So when the Presbyterian church bought a new mimeograph, every church wanted a new mimeograph. And when the Methodists picked up an opaque projector for their education program—a kind of opaque projector lust spread through the community. But, that same year, you could take a plane to New York City and drop in on a tiny church down near the Brooklyn Bridge. In four city blocks near the church there were ninety thousand unchurched people living in housing projects. Yet a denomination closed down the tiny church because it didn’t seem to be self-supporting. Why? Because we had to keep twenty-seven churches competing for the American soul somewhere in West Virginia! Free enterprise may be a swell idea when you’re selling hamburgers—fast-food stores cluster—but when it comes to serving Jesus Christ, ecclesial free-enterprise simply scuttles the gospel. So we cling to our separate steeples, and the work of God suffers.

Now mark this: We don’t seem to be able to change. We can’t seem to break out of the pattern, can we? Somehow we are locked into denominational loyalties. Maybe it’s because we have to belong. Or maybe, deeper still, our own identities are at stake. Look, we know it’s wrong. Did not Jesus Christ throw back his head on the night before the cross and pray that all his disciples be one? . . . And, yet, we aren’t. There are buildings involved and cash down and jobs at stake (every denomination has a power structure) and—well, what can you do? Some years ago a statue was on display in a Pittsburgh art gallery. It was a Crucifixion: Jesus Christ stretched on the cross. The only trouble was that he was disconnected; his arms didn’t join his shoulders or his head on his neck, and his legs were not hooked onto his torso. Jesus Christ was broken into pieces. The title of the sculpture? “Denominationalism”! Can the dividing up of Jesus Christ be anything but sin? No. Yet, we seem to be helpless. Somehow we can’t seem to let go of ourselves.

From “The Churchless Kingdom of God” by David G. Buttrick, quoted in Best Sermons 3 edited by James W. Cox (Harper & Row, 1990).

The other apostle named James has been referred to as “the lesser,” “the less,” or “the younger” (Mark 15:40). We don’t know as much about this disciple as we do the others, because his name is mentioned in Scripture only a few times, and each time it is part of a list. All we know besides his name is that he was the son of Alpheus. Since Matthew was also the son of a man named Alpheus, many scholars believe that Matthew and James were brothers. They were both natives of Capernaum, from the northwestern shore of the Sea of Galilee. We know nothing more about this particular disciple, so he is a symbol to me of all the wonderful unsung heroes and heroines whose names are forgotten in spite of their great efforts and accomplishments. . . .

James, the son of Alpheus, will always have the honor and distinction of having been chosen by Jesus to be his apostle. I like to think of him as one of those special people who have the kind of humility to do whatever they can quietly, without any need to call attention to themselves or be recognized. We all know people like this, and we usually like them for their gentle, dependable, and steadfast ways. They usually show up to help when there is a job to be done, or someone in need, without asking much in return. Thus I think of James “the less” as James “the humble,” ministering in an unassuming way, concerned only with doing God’s will whether or not he got credit or praise. The world needs people like this even more than it needs leaders.

From “James and James, the Greater and Lesser” in The First to Follow: The Apostles of Jesus by John R. Claypool, edited by Ann Wilkinson Claypool. Copyright © 2008. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

The last time we see Philip is in that great passage at the Last Supper, when Jesus was preparing his disciples for what was about to come. . . . In spite of all that Jesus had taught them, Philip asked for more: “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus’ response must have been filled with genuine frustration and sadness as he asked, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” We may think of Philip as a slow learner to have been with Jesus for three years without understanding that he was in the presence of God, but the idea that the Messiah was both man and God was a radically foreign concept to first-century Jews. We owe Philip a debt of gratitude for his dogged inquisitiveness, because Jesus’ response to him has blessed Christians for twenty-one centuries: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:1-9). . . .

In time, these words must have worked their way into Philip’s consciousness. It is generally accepted that he became one of the great missionary preachers of Asia, and was martyred for his faith in the Roman-Greek city of Hierapolis in Phyrgia. There are many legends about Philip, but there is considerable doubt that any of them are true. The only other mention of him in Scripture is that he was part of the group that met in the upper room in Jerusalem after Jesus’ ascension. . . . Philip had a long way to go when he first encountered Jesus, but the invitation to come and follow began a remarkable pilgrimage through which his life was transformed by the grace of Jesus.

From “Philip, the Careful Realist” in The First to Follow: The Apostles of Jesus by John R. Claypool, edited by Ann Wilkinson Claypool. Copyright © 2008. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com