What I Would Have Said

River view from our future backyard.

It’s not that I had nothing to say, excuse the double negative. The opposite, actually. I had plenty—too much—which is why I chose to hold my tongue, and listen instead. And I’m not sorry. We’ve been with these friends for such a short time, and I want to really know them. I want to hear what they have to say, and learn their stories. Later I’d replay the whole conversation, much like my husband recalling every shot after a day of golf. I’d even remember one friend who started to say something, and then held back, flushing red. 

We were with our small group on a Tuesday evening, talking about the Holy Spirit. Friends, relatively new to each other, discussing what we’ve learned from our own experiences. Two days past Pentecost Sunday—remembering the story of followers of Jesus, waiting together, expecting some kind of Spirit baptism. Pastor Dave had shared honestly with the congregation, his own story about being a teenager, feeling coerced—humans trying to force an issue, missing altogether a God who arrives like wind. 

All of this came rushing back to me, Tuesday night while lying in bed. My overstimulated mind holding its own conversation, rehearsing the stories I might have told. Kept awake also by the brilliant moon shining over a shimmering lake, and I imagined the Spirit hovering over creation waters. I thought about the waters in which I’ve spent a lifetime swimming. Churches, camps, college and seminary. How is it that I’ve been lavished with so much GRACE? So many denominations and life seasons and one thing I can say without hesitation is all has been grace. Not once in all these years have I been forced, or manipulated, or wounded. Honestly, I’ve experienced nothing but love and freedom when it comes to knowing the Holy Spirit. 

He’s been so real and so personal. Utterly generous. The God who knit me together in my mama’s womb, knows exactly how to meet me still. He speaks my language, and knows my name. Every Spirit manifestation breathes creation life into all that is uniquely me. And you, too. My friends at church, and strangers across this whole wide globe. God is not limited. Not tied to a particular formula. The Creator of infinite stars… endless species… no two fingerprints exactly the same. No two snowflakes, either. Which is why, I suppose, I’ve never felt all that inclined to seek a Spirit gift that isn’t mine. He’s given me so much already. 

I woke Wednesday morning to birdsong and glassy waters—perfect for my first paddle-board of summer. Peacefully skimming the surface of the lake, I was reminded of our friend Stephanie’s word from God. She’d told us the night before, while we talked of sailboats and the wind of the Spirit. “He’s inviting me to GLIDE with Him.” 

My own Spirit words brush over me in a gentle breeze.

Covenant.

Hesed.

Shalom. 

Open Door. 

How often does the Spirit meet me in language and words? Poetry and sermons. Literature and song. The words He gives me to write. 

They were astounded and amazed, saying, “Look, aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? How is it that each of us can hear them in our own native language? (Acts 2:7-8) 

One of our friends…maybe it was Kim…had wondered out loud if the miracle was only in the speaking, or maybe in the hearing, too? Did the Spirit empower both ears and tongues? 

My own experience with the Spirit says yes, I believe it was both. Sometimes His gift rolls off my own tongue, or pen, or keyboard. Other times the gift is in the ability to receive… to discern the still small whisper of a dancing wind. 

While paddling across the lake I thought about our new home on the river. 

On the last and most important day of the festival, Jesus stood up and cried out, “If anyone is thirsty, let him come to me and drink. The one who believes in me, as the Scripture has said, will have streams of living water flow from deep within him.” He said this about the Spirit. Those who believed in Jesus were going to receive the Spirit, for the Spirit had not yet been given because Jesus had not yet been glorified. (John 7:37-39) 

Like most bodies of water, the river is breath-taking in its beauty, but it can also have a mind of its own. This is the metaphor Jesus chose to describe his soon-to-arrive Triune presence in the people of God. Spirit would come to consume like a river, flowing in, over, through and around. 

My life has been like a river, too. Winding in its path, changeable in its currents, sometimes slow and gentle, sometimes rushing beyond my comfort. Always drenched in the soul-satisfying life of Jesus—every season, without fail. 

And sometimes the Holy Spirit arrives suddenly, filling the room like a violent gale. 

When the day of Pentecost had arrived, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like that of a violent rushing wind came from heaven, and it filled the whole house where they were staying. (Acts 2:1-2)