First Presbyterian Church, Corning, Iowa. Photo by K. Rummer
Pentecost
Possibilities and Surprises
by Ken Rummer
Red banners. Strange tongues. Wind and fire. Pentecost Sunday (May 20) is almost here!
The keynote story can be found in the second chapter of Acts, but my excitement for the day goes back to another story, a surprising one from my own life.
Toward the end of my senior year of college I was up against a big decision. I had in hand a job offer from a major engineering company. Should I take the job and use it to save up money for seminary? Or should I say no and head for seminary straightaway? The deadline for responding had arrived and I was still unsure.
As it happened, the charismatic group that gathered in the basement of the Catholic church was meeting that very night. I had visited there several times before and knew that they prayed with people who requested help.
I had my hesitations about the group. Baptism of the Holy Spirit? I had been baptized already. I had professed my faith in Christ and had recently yielded to Jesus as my Lord. What more could there be?
But this was a situation. I headed over.
The group had grown since I had last been there, but I could still feel the love. And they were still singing new songs that left me wanting more. And then came the songs that weren’t on the song sheets, the ones that seemed to emerge from the group, building and growing with impromptu harmonies and words that weren’t in the dictionary.
Afterwards, I met with the prayer team. They didn’t seem fazed by my dilemma. They just prayed.
As they did, I saw myself standing at the center of a large flat wheel. In front of me, beyond the rim, was a figure I took to be Jesus. A little to the left of Jesus was seminary, and over my shoulder, behind me, was the company offering me the engineering job. It seemed pretty clear.
After the prayer, I reported on what I had seen. Again, it didn’t seem to surprise the prayer team. They asked me if I would like to receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I said yes.
To the prayers others prayed with their hands upon my head and shoulders I added one of my own. “Whatever gifts I need for the work you are calling me to do, I am willing to receive them.”
I had been telling myself that speaking in tongues was not a requirement for a Spirit-filled life (something I still believe). So it was a big step to be open to receiving the gift of tongues, even though I was giving God plenty of room to share other gifts instead.
In the praying, there was no further vision. I didn’t speak in tongues as they prayed and I was grateful they didn’t push. I went home and mailed my regrets to the engineering company.
That summer I worked on the staff of a church camp, and it was there, in my praying, that a single syllable arose like an idea in my mind. It wasn’t a word I knew, but, when I added it to my prayer, it seemed to say a lot to God.
For a while, I would hold that “word” in reserve, only deploying it at those moments when I wanted to say more and didn’t have the words. As it turned out, I didn’t use it up. More syllables came, and I found that, if I spoke them, more would come along.
And that is how a Presbyterian, doubtful about speaking in tongues, ended up doing that very thing. It is still the way I pray when I don’t know how best to pray. It is the language I turn to when I get caught up in worship. It is the chant I whisper over the baptized and the dying.
On Pentecost the church prays, “Come, Holy Spirit!” I hear it as a petition that was answered in the days of the apostles, as a request that is being answered in the unfolding story of the church, and as an invitation that may yet be answered in our lives in surprising ways.
Ken Rummer, a retired PCUSA pastor, writes about life and faith from the middle of Iowa by the High Trestle Trail. To view previous posts go to https://www.presbyterianmission.org/today/author/krummer/