SHe Comes Like Fire
Pentecost Sunday - Year C
Acts 2:1-11; Psalm 104:1,24,29-31,34; Romans 8:8-17; John 14:15-16,23b-26
They were waiting.
Not doing much.
Just gathering.
Praying.
Hoping.
Ten days had passed since Jesus ascended.
The last thing He told them was:
“Wait.”
So they did.
In the same room.
With the same questions.
With hearts still unsure,
and a world still unchanged.
Then it happened.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
Not like a soft whisper in the soul.
No—
like wind.
Like fire.
Like breath that shakes the bones.
The Holy Spirit came.
Not because they were ready.
But because they were chosen.
Not because they were brave.
But because God had promised.
They spoke—
in languages they’d never learned.
They stood—
when fear told them to hide.
They preached—
when silence seemed safer.
The same people
who had run away
now ran toward the world
with a message that burned like fire:
“Jesus is risen.
He is Lord.
And His Spirit is here.”
The world called them drunk.
But they were alive.
Alive like wheat at harvest.
Like dry bones breathing again.
Like hearts on fire.
This is Pentecost.
Not a feast of the past.
Not a nice ending to Easter.
But a beginning.
The Church was born.
Not in comfort,
but in courage.
Not in order,
but in fire.
And now?
Now the Spirit is still coming.
In quiet prayers you whisper at night.
In courage you didn’t think you had.
In sudden peace when anxiety won’t let go.
In tears that fall during worship.
In decisions that pull you toward truth.
In a love that makes no sense—except that it’s from God.
He comes like fire.
He breathes where you're dry.
He burns what holds you back.
He speaks through your silence.
He gives you a voice.
And then He sends you.
Today, don’t just remember Pentecost.
Live it.
Say, “Come, Holy Spirit.”
Say it with longing.
With fear.
With hope.
Say it with your life.