Fire, Wind, & Words

Jesu Juva

Acts 2:1-21                                                         

May 24, 2026

The Day of Pentecost           

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        You heard the highlights of Pentecost a few minutes ago from Acts 2:  The wind and fire of the Holy Spirit, and the words delivering the good news about Jesus to all who heard them.  The Word of God preached and proclaimed in all the languages of the known world.  A day full of grace.

        Some refer to Pentecost as the church’s birthday, but that’s not completely accurate.  It’s more precise to say that the church was born on Good Friday from the wounds of the crucified Jesus.  The blood and water, the cry, “It is finished,” the temple curtain torn in two from top to bottom—these tell the story of the birth of the church.  So, there was already a church before there was a Pentecost. 

We heard about that pre-Pentecost church last week from Acts chapter one: It included the Twelve apostles (with the newly minted Matthias), and Mary the mother of Jesus.  They were all together in one place—a congregation of about 120—about this size—the entire holy, Christian, apostolic church all packed into someone’s living room.

        Pentecost was actually an Old Testament festival—occurring 50 days after Passover.  Jews came to Jerusalem at Pentecost to present the first fruits of the winter wheat harvest to the Lord.  They came to Jerusalem to do something for God.  But on this particular Pentecost, God turned the tables on those pilgrims.  God poured out on them the gift of the Holy Spirit—doing far more for them than they could ever do for Him!

        In fact, the Lord stole the whole show that day, so to speak.  There was the sound of a mighty rushing wind.  Fifty days earlier the risen Christ had breathed on His disciples.  That was a little breath—a gentle breeze.  On Pentecost comes a fresh gust of gospel good news.  And then comes the fire.  As John the Baptist had said concerning Jesus:  He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.  Tongues of fire come to rest on the members of that congregation, and they aren’t burned or singed in the slightest.

        Now with the fire and the wind come the words—words given by the Holy Spirit.  This is what the Holy Spirit does.  He’s in the word delivery business.  He is the UPS man of the Holy Trinity—taking the words of the Lord and delivering them personally to us.  The forgiveness and life that Jesus died to win for all can only be delivered by way of mouths speaking words.

        And those words must be understood!  And that’s been the perennial problem ever since God confused the languages way back beneath the tower of Babel.  On that day God jumbled up our nouns and verbs and we’ve been straining to understand each other ever since.

        On Pentecost, God undoes the curse of Babel in a most unexpected way.  He didn’t create one, new language for the church.  Instead, the Spirit preached in many languages all at once, and each person heard the good news about Jesus in his own native language and dialect.  St. Luke lists them off, so we get the point:  Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Mesopotamians, Judeans, Cappadocians, not to mention the good folks from Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, Libya and Rome.  They all heard the mighty works of God for their salvation in their own mother tongue.  It’s an audible object lesson, teaching that what Jesus said and did, He said and did for you personally—for you, whatever your nouns and verbs sound like.  This Jesus who is for all, who lived for all, who bore the sins of all, who died for all, who was raised up for all and who will raise all on the last day—He is also for you as your own two ears can testify (thanks to the Holy Spirit).

        The fire, the wind, the words: It was a Pentecost to remember.  But I always like to say that we’ve got Pentecost every Sunday.  Today, here and now, we’ve got the words of God being delivering by the Holy Spirit into your ears and heart.  Each Lord’s Day the good news goes forth:  Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.  The trouble is we don’t believe it.  The truth is we’re bored. 

        You see, the Old Adam in us loves the religious special effects of the first Pentecost.  We like our religion with a dose of fireworks and maybe some special lighting and a fog machine thrown in for good measure.  We like it when religion sends a chill down our spines and puts a lump in our throats.  Somehow just listening—just hearing the works of God declared in our own English language just doesn’t seem to satisfy.  How easy it is to be bored—to despise preaching and His Word rather than hold it sacred and gladly hear and learn it (even on a holiday weekend).   

        Many churches have recognized this spiritual boredom among their members.  They’ve sought to up the ante by doing whatever seems novel, whatever seems relevant to pop culture, whatever will get people talking and create a buzz.  But whatever you do, the conventional wisdom seems to say, don’t subject people to hearing and learning the Word of God.  It’s almost as if the Holy Spirit just can’t get the job done without our creativity and marketing skills. 

But here’s the truth:  Do you know what would happen if every Sunday were as spectacular as that first Pentecost?  Do you know what would happen if I preached every Sunday with a tongue a fire on my lips and the sound of a rushing wind blowing through the room?  Do you know what would happen?  We’d get bored with that too. 

        Beloved in the Lord, the problem isn’t with the Spirit-delivered good news about Jesus.  The problem is human hearts from Mesopotamia to Milwaukee are afflicted with sin.  By nature we hold sacred what is profane; and we denigrate what is holy.  We prefer being entertained to being enlightened by the Holy Spirit.  But the Spirit’s special work is to turn us from that sin—to create in us clean hearts.  This is why we need Pentecost every Sunday—to call and gather and enlighten and sanctify the likes of us, and keep us with Jesus Christ in one true faith.

        Beloved in the Lord, whether we hear a mighty rushing wind or not, whether we see tongues of fire or not—we have Pentecost every Sunday.  In the humble words preached from pulpits like this one, in the humble water of Holy Baptism, in the simple bread and wine that is His body and blood—there is the power—there is the wind in the sails of the church.

        That wind is still blowing in our sails right here at Our Savior.  For over 90 years the Holy Spirit—the Lord and giver of life—has been at work among us.  The Spirit’s work has not been for Parthians, Medes and Elamites, but “for you”—working the miracle of faith in your heart and keeping you with Jesus—doing for you what you could never do for yourself. 

        Here’s some history for you:  Eighteen years ago this week our congregation did not gather between these four walls to celebrate Pentecost.  I wasn’t standing here.  You weren’t sitting there.  We were not in this sacred space. . . because we were worshipping in the fellowship hall downstairs. . . because we were building a choir loft and installing a pipe organ in this space.  Eighteen years ago not everyone was thrilled with that decision. Some felt it was unnecessary and too expensive.  Today we enjoy the blessings and benefits of that project every time we gather.  It happened only because the Holy Spirit led the saints of Our Savior to respond to God’s love in Jesus Christ with generosity. 

In a few more weeks we’ll be moving again—back down into the fellowship hall.  And once again, God the Holy Spirit will “outgive” us all.  And the important work of the kingdom—which kicked off on the Day of Pentecost—will continue here long after you and I have entered the Kingdom of glory with Jesus Himself, and all the company of heaven.

        That “kingdom work” happens here every Sunday.  If you’re looking for fireworks you’ll miss it.  But here’s what to look for:  the apostles’ teaching, the breaking of bread in the Lord’s Supper, the Lord’s liturgy of life, and the fellowship.  Where these are going on, where the Gospel is preached and the sacraments are administered according to Jesus’ words, there is the Spirit.  There’s the wind in our sails.  There is forgiveness, life, and salvation.  For you.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

 

Surprised by Suffering?

Jesu Juva

1 Peter 4:12-19; 5:6-11                                       

May 17, 2026

Easter 7A                

Dear saints of our Savior~

        I’m always surprised by suffering.  I never expect it.  Suffering seems to come out of the blue—an unwelcome intruder.  But I really shouldn’t be surprised by suffering.  And neither should you.  That’s what St. Peter reminds us in today’s epistle:  Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when His glory is revealed.

        Suffering is a topic that most of us would rather avoid, I’m guessing.  But if you’re at all familiar with what the New Testament says about suffering, then you know that suffering accompanies every Christian—that suffering is not pointless or meaningless.  In fact, it’s just the opposite.  Suffering is the crucible of faith.  Suffering is the refining fire that burns away all the silliness, the superficiality, the candy-coated platitudes and sugary spirituality.  And what it leaves behind is nothing but the pure gold of saving faith in Jesus the Christ.

        And speaking of Jesus, He knows about suffering.  No man has ever suffered to the degree that Jesus did.  His suffering was the great necessity of His mission—it was the will of God.  It was prophesied in Scripture.  It was necessary that the Christ must suffer and enter into His glory.  The way to the right hand of the Father was the way of the cross and suffering.  He understands your pain right down to His very bones.  He experienced the anguish of God’s silence.  He was abandoned and forsaken.  He identifies with all our suffering.  He is one with our suffering; and He is one with us when we suffer.

        Contrary to what you hear from prosperity preachers with their pie-eyed promises of success, the life of faith doesn’t exempt you from suffering.  Baptism affords no detour around the valley of the shadow of death.  It’s wishful thinking to assume that because Jesus suffered for us, we are not going to suffer.  In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us just who is blessed:  It is those who are persecuted and pursued and poor in spirit.  It’s those who suffer.  Blessed are they, says Jesus.

        Peter was writing his epistle to persecuted, suffering Christians.  He calls them “exiles,” but the term we know better would be “refugees.”  They were scattered all over modern-day Turkey by persecution.  They were forced to leave their homes, their jobs, even their families.  And even in exile they weren’t safe, but were easy targets as Christians no matter how far from home they wandered.

        The suffering Peter specifically addresses is suffering for the faith.  “If anyone suffers as a Christian,” he writes, “let him not be ashamed.”  Suffering for being a Christian—for confessing Jesus Christ as Lord.  For some it meant the loss of home and family.  For others it meant arrest, imprisonment, torture, and perhaps even death.  Of all the apostles we heard named earlier in Acts chapter one, only John lived to a ripe, old age.  The rest were martyred.

        They could have spared themselves all that suffering by simply going quiet.  They could have privately treasured Jesus in their hearts while publicly going right along with the pagan flow.  But they could not and would not do that.  Their baptisms had marked them as soldiers of Christ the Crucified, and they would not betray their commander-in-chief.  They would not go AWOL.  They would not betray their Lord who had suffered and died for them.  Jesus had made them His witnesses to the ends of the earth.

        Peter wrote to prepare his readers for what lay ahead.  There was a fiery trial of suffering headed their way and they shouldn’t be surprised when it happens.  And neither should you.  Don’t be surprised when it’s your turn to endure suffering, hardship, or loss because of the Name of Jesus.  That time is probably coming sooner than we imagine. 

The day is approaching when merely speaking God’s truth revealed in Holy Scripture will be grounds to expel you, grounds to fire you, grounds to evict you—or worse.  Last week a grandmother in the Finnish Parliament was found guilty of hate crimes for something she wrote over twenty years ago, simply stating that homosexuality was not in alignment with God’s plan for life.  Don’t be surprised when the same thing happens here.  Many shallow, superficial Christians will fall away from the faith in the face of such hardship.  The devil is already on the prowl, seeking how many he can devour.

        He will tempt you to doubt and fear and waver and wonder if God is really in charge, or even whether God really exists.  He will cause you to doubt your baptism, that it saves you through the death and resurrection of Jesus.  He will tempt you to go with the flow—to follow your neighbors rather than follow Christ and His Word.  He will tempt you to do whatever it takes to avoid suffering.

        When it happens, don’t be surprised!  And remember that suffering for being a Christian is a great gift.  Blessed are you and great is your reward in heaven.  Be not ashamed.  Be not afraid! 

        Don’t be surprised by suffering.  But do remember this:  God uses persecution and suffering.  They are tools in His hand.  He doesn’t cause it in the sense of stirring it up.  The devil, the world, and our sinful flesh do that.  But God uses suffering and persecution.  He hijacks them for His purposes.  He uses the heat of persecution as a refining fire to burn away the junk, the trite, the trivial to reveal pure gold—the nuggets of genuine faith in Jesus.  Suffering is the setting in which God’s great promises resonate most clearly. 

Read through the book of Acts and see how the Lord used the persecution of the church to energize and grow the church.  When the apostles were imprisoned and beaten for preaching the name of Jesus, they rejoiced and gave thanks that they were considered worthy to suffer for the name of Jesus (Acts 5:41). 

And even in the last century, in Russia, we see what happened when Lenin tried to purge Christianity from Russia.  He ultimately couldn’t do it.  Lenin finally concluded that Christianity is like a nail:  the harder you drive it, the faster you pound it, the more violently you strike against it, the deeper it goes.  Suffering for Jesus’ sake drives faith ever deeper.  It refines and purifies faith.

Don’t be surprised:  You will suffer for Jesus’ sake.  But Jesus suffered for you first.  His suffering saves you; your suffering honors Him.  His suffering is the gold of your faith.  Your suffering brings that gold to 24 karat purity.  His suffering was for your sins; your suffering is for the glory of His holy name.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God.  For Jesus Christ was humbled—He made Himself nothing—in order to exalt you and raise you from the dead.  Whatever the suffering you face, you will be exalted, lifted up to life eternal.  As Peter concludes:  God Himself will restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.  To Him be the dominion forever and ever.  Amen.

 

My thanks to Rev. William Cwirla whose sermon, “Suffering for the Faith,” was fundamental in shaping the thoughts contained in this sermon.