It was very early one Sunday morning in the kingdom of heaven. Jesus, Peter the Rock, and Paul the Apostle were trying to decide where to go to church. Peter was more than a bit awestruck with the beauty of the day. And Peter, who always seemed to rush into saying the wrong thing, made the mistake of mentioning that maybe they could go play golf instead. As you might have guessed, his frivolous suggestion brought two stares that could only be matched there in eternity. Paul, who even there in heaven prided himself on always having the right answer, reminded the other two that it was, in fact, Pentecost Sunday. He shared with them that maybe they could find a place where they could relive the Pentecost experience all over again. Of course in eternity everything seems like just yesterday. But Peter and Jesus knew what Paul was driving at; the rush of a mighty wind, the tongues as of fire, being filled with the Holy Spirit, the mystery having to do with language. Paul wanted to find a place to worship where the Holy Spirit was present in all it’s power; power like that unleashed at that first Day of Pentecost.
      Jesus smiled and thought to himself about the church and the Holy Spirit. He knew how churches and traditions and preachers were always trying to claim the corner of the market on the Holy Spirit. Some think they have the Spirit all to themselves. Others live almost oblivious to the reality of God’s Spirit working in their lives and the lives of their congregations. So the prospect of finding a church to attend on the morning when Pentecost was being celebrated, a church where the Spirit’s presence was clearly acknowledged and celebrated, a church that would reek of the aroma of that first Pentecost, well, the prospect of worshipping with a congregation like that was rather intriguing. And despite the fact that so many misunderstood, misplaced, and mistook the Holy Spirit, Jesus knew just the place to go.
      Always the one looking for a teachable moment among his followers, Jesus first asked Peter and Paul to suggest a church where they should go to worship. Yes, Peter answered first. He was thinking of the more memorable experiences of the Spirit he had witnessed alongside Jesus; the healings of those so long infirmed; demons being called out, the dead who were “only sleeping”. Peter knew of a church gathering for worship where great and miraculous things were always expected. Some Sundays there was a healing. Other Sundays the worship seemed almost ecstatic. Some Sundays hundreds came forward in response to the pastor’s invitation. Someone was always willing to stand up and share a testimony; to tell of the Holy Spirit’s work in their life. And the church had the numbers too. They had the numbers of that first Pentecost Day when God added three thousand people to the church. How could Peter ever forget that day? The place he was suggesting was certain to have a couple thousand in worship for the morning and there would be no lack of talk about the Holy Spirit. Peter shook his head as he named the place a second time. It was a good suggestion, he thought stopping short of patting himself on the back.
      The Apostle Paul didn’t have any trouble offering a different opinion on the matter. Paul, even on the other side of glory, he still wasn’t shy when it came to sharing his thoughts. Paul had a different slant on how best to experience Pentecost. As one might expect, the epistle writer and classical rhetorician, the one so highly educated, the maker of those lists about the gifts of the Spirit and the fruit of the Spirit, he had a soft spot for good, solid, theologically sound, and well-crafted preaching and worship where instruction and exposition would carry the day. Paul knew just the church. It had a reputation for years of excellent preaching. The congregation seemed to go from one accomplished pulpiteer to another. The worship services were always well-organized, liturgically based, and centered on the proclamation of scripture. The church also had quite a celebration on Pentecost. It had built up over the years and was now just part of the tradition. The Church School always had a birthday party of sorts celebrating the beginning of the church. Church members were invited and then remembered to wear red, the liturgical color of the day. On top of all of that there was usually something unique in the worship service itself; an attempt to recreate the sound of a rushing wind, balloons all through the sanctuary, or stunning banners made to look like fire hanging from the highest part of the ceiling. Paul thought for sure he had Peter and Jesus convinced on his choice for Pentecost worship. If perfection had been one of the fruits of the Spirit (which thank God it wasn’t) then this church, the church Paul was thinking about, it would have embodied it. Paul was convinced he made the right call.
      But then Jesus said those all too familiar words, “Follow me” and they went off to the church of the Lord’s choosing. Along the way Peter and Paul were arguing amongst themselves about which church choice had been better, about whose idea was better, about which one of them was the greatest. Jesus just shook his head and kept moving. Before they knew it, the Apostle and the Rock found themselves sitting next to Jesus in a sanctuary that looked awfully ordinary. The worship service had already started and the people were singing a hymn. The congregation wasn’t big and it wasn’t small, but it was just right. As the minister led the congregation in a prayer of confession, Jesus elbowed the two of them and motioned with his eyes that they should look up and look around. It didn’t take long for them to begin to catch on.
      There were young and old gathered there for Pentecost. There were individuals and there were families. Families of all combinations and there were individuals sitting together as adopted families. A few single parents sat with their kids not far from an older couple who seemed to be surrogate parents, maybe for the whole church. Peter happened to notice the young man standing up front, repeating everything that was said or sung in sign language. Paul was looking at the collage of color there in the pews. It wasn’t that everyone was wearing red. It was the many colors of skin. The diversity was even greater when it came to dialect, or accent, or language. Jesus motioned slightly with his head to point out several folks with wheel chairs or walkers. A young baby over on one side was joining right with her “shouts of praise.” What couldn’t be seen was the plethora of opinions represented in the congregation; political, theological, economic, moral. Thoughts about education and schools, what team to cheer for or not to cheer for, the best music to sing in worship, how the church ought to be defining its mission and where it ought to be spending it’s money. The differences ranged from the mundane to the essential, from life in the community, to life in the church, to life in the world. Not all difference can be seen or heard, but Jesus knew that when he chose the congregation for Pentecost worship.
      The pastor was calling for prayer requests. She was standing in the center aisle and just invited everyone to share the peace. Now you could feel how the concerns of the congregation were bound together as they were lifted up in prayer. They prayed for the sick and the grieving. They prayed for one another. They prayed for far off places in the world worn down by despair and torn apart by violence, war, and hatred. They prayed for their own neighborhoods worn down by despair and torn apart by violence, war, and hatred. During that prayer the community of the congregation and the community of the world, it all seemed to merge. Then they prayed the Lord’s Prayer together in so many different languages. Peter, Paul, and Jesus, they heard so many different voices, and language, but, of course, it was all one prayer. When it came to languages, and voices, and volume, it suddenly sounded like a whole lot more than the number s gathered there in the sanctuary. It seemed more than that church size that was just right. Jesus and his two followers found themselves again looking up from the prayer, looking around and listening to this incredibly kaleidoscopic congregation.
      Soon it was time for the pastor to preach. It seemed she was right in tune with the purpose of the visit of the heavenly three. Right in tune or maybe it was the Holy Spirit. She spoke about the miracle of Pentecost in the Second Chapter of Acts. “It may have been the rushing wind. It may have been the tongues of fire,” the preacher proclaimed. “It may have been the part about speaking in other languages. Maybe it was Peter’s sermon” Sitting there in the pew, Peter looked over at Jesus for maybe a nod of affirmation. But Jesus was listening so intently to the preaching. “It may have been the image of sons and daughters prophesying, or young men seeing visions and old men dreaming dreams. It may have been that the church grew by thousands in one day.”
      “It may have been all of that” she said with her voice dropping to a whisper. “But I think the most miraculous part happened right at the beginning. Right at the start of the story. Right there where they were all together in one place. As it is written, ‘when the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.’” And the preacher paused and looked around the congregation. She looked around long enough to create a bit of an awkward silence. “That first sentence”, she went on, “it’s not just a description of the small group of apostles gathering for the feast. It is the thesis statement for the whole story. It is the theological thesis statement that foreshadows the depth of meaning for Pentecost itself. It is the trumpet fanfare that tells of a gathering from every nation under heaven. People from east and west, north and south, all together in one place, miraculously united by the power of the Holy Spirit. “When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place.”
      In words of profound power, the pastor stood before her otherwise ordinary congregation and concluded her sermon by telling them that they were a living witness to the truth that Pentecost still happens. Jesus elbowed both Peter and Paul to make sure they got the point. Yes, miracles happen. Yes, the Holy Spirit is at work in the church in powerful and charismatic and mysterious. Yes, the very Spirit of God is at work in the world in ways that go far beyond what can be imagined or comprehended. But the experience of that first Pentecost is best relived when the people of God find ways to be with one another, to love one another, to allow the Spirit to bind them together, to taste and see something of what it means to One in Christ the Lord. Some years when Pentecost comes around, that is miracle enough.
      The sermon was done, another hymn has been sung, and the congregation was gathering around the Table for the Lord’s Supper. As the pastor led in those familiar words of celebration, Jesus found himself mouthing right along. “This is my body broken for you.” “This is the new covenant sealed in my blood.” “Do this in remembrance of me.”
      Jesus turned to Peter and Paul, who couldn’t stop themselves from looking all around as the church shared the meal. Jesus turned to them and said, “Now this is Pentecost.”

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