A Poem for Pentecost: Pentecost Reclaimed!

photo: Sam L. Street

Pentecost!

It is a beginning.

It is the day when the wind of God moved,

not only through the upper room,

but through centuries—

birthing what we now call the Church:

Mother Church,

Universal, Diverse,

yet One.

From Orthodox chants to Pentecostal hallelujahs,

from candlelit cathedrals to hands lifted in praise—

whether ancient or emerging, conservative or progressive,

whether we understand one another or not—

we are one in Christ.

Whether we accept it or not.

The Spirit did not come in silence,

but in wind and flame.

Yet not to destroy,

but to awaken.

Not to impose,

but to invite.

Not to create conformity,

but to call forth community.

And everyone heard the gospel in their own language.

Not the language of domination.

Not the voice of empire.

But the mother tongue of the heart.

Somewhere along the way,

we lost that fire.

We turned Pentecost into a platform,

a brand,

a power-play.

We made the Spirit predictable.

We demanded tongues without tears,

miracles without mercy,

authority without humility.

We hijacked the holy.

But the Spirit still comes.

Uninvited.

Uncontrolled.

Unboxed.

She comes not just to stir our emotions,

but to break our boundaries.

To loosen our grip on tribal truth.

To gather us again—

as one Body with many voices,

many wounds,

many wonders.

Pentecost is not a memory.

It is a mirror.

It shows us what the Church could be,

should be,

must be—

a communion of difference

held together by divine love.

So come, Holy Spirit.

Disturb what is settled.

Heal what is fractured.

And teach us again to speak—

not with arrogance,

but with awe.

Not to impress,

but to bless.

Let the Church be born again.

-- Samuel Lee