Clear Answers to Prayer

This is a strangely tough post to write.  God really showed up here today, providing clear answers to a prayer that Preston and I offered up last night, and it seems extraordinarily important to me that I tell this story correctly.

To God be the glory, after all.

Preston decided recently that we should make an effort to pray together (a novel thought after 10 years of marriage, yes?) and it has been nothing short of incredible to watch the effect it has had on us, though that effect is not something I believe I can articulate.  Every morning lately, Preston has taken my hand and prayed for us, for our day, for our family.  It takes maybe 20 seconds.  Nothing profound occurs, unless you consider the small fact that we are finally taking an extra miniscule step together towards God.

"For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them."  - Matthew 18:20 NIV

Last night, we had our monthly discussion in which I regularly get all freaked out about having the money to pay the bills, and Preston gets frustrated with me for not having enough faith to trust that God will provide.    We have this exchange every month, and could probably just pull out the script if we needed to.  The words rarely change.  It isn't a money fight per se, but it is a rare day indeed in which we both play our assigned roles in this performance without one of us getting rather cranky.

The issue is not one of faith though.  I have no doubt that God will take care of us, but I have always held a strict belief that I must hold up my end of the bargain if I should expect God to pour out his blessings.  It just seems to me that God would reward us if we are being obedient to Him and if we are following the path He wants us to be on, and if I am blatantly ignoring His guidance and going my own way, then I have no issue with the thought that He might pull out the rug from under me to get my attention.

My theology, as usual, may be a bit flawed on this point, but I think my heart is in the right place on this.  I just don't buy into all the promises of material prosperity that some believe are part and parcel of The God Thing.

So it is not that I lack in faith, but rather I doubt my ability to discern God's will for our lives.  As a general rule, if I (ahem) remember to ask God for guidance in a decision, I rarely feel that I get a clear answer.  I do not know whether this comes from my not paying enough attention, or if God just chooses to be subtle in His answers.   For quite some time now, I have questioned if I am doing what God would have me to do.  Money has been way more than tight for a good two years, and I have carried around a burden that this is completely my fault.  With the addition of a second small child to our little family, and then the added time constraints that crept in when we began homeschooling, my income has dropped considerably and I have watched our debts become a little scarier.

And I have prayed, oh I have prayed long and much to seek direction in this.  Am I holding on too tight to my desire to homeschool?  Should I be out pounding the pavement to drum up more clients, or should I be patient and know that God will (as He has always done) provide the workload that He expects me to shoulder?  Does God want me to sit tight and trust Him as we wait out a tough economy, or is He up there wondering why in samhill I don't go out and get a weekend job when Preston is home to see to the children?  Am I managing our money correctly?  Am I being obedient?

Last night, during our discussion, as I tried to lay out to Preston my need to hear from God on this, Preston (bless him) reached for my hand and prayed.

This morning, while the kids watched their morning cartoon, I read Acts Chapter 10, and was captivated by how God, in a vision, showed something to Peter three times (Acts 10:10-16).  The footnote regarding the phrase 'three times' read, "to make a due impression on Peter."

Sounds nice, yes?  Getting a clear vision from God not once, but three times?  And have you noticed how many times in the Bible things happen in threes when God is trying to make a point?

And then it happened to us.  Within 18 hours of praying for guidance as to whether we were being obedient to God's will, He gave us three confirmations back to back.  Not three possible confirmations, but three incredible, awe-inspiring, crystal-clear, highly unusual, far-from-coincidental Words from God.

God spoke.  And He used an exclamation point.

It does not escape my notice that as I have finally reached a point where I am hungry to get closer to God, when my husband and I are seeking Him together, when I am eager for God to use me however He sees fit, I am simultaneously feeling God moving amongst us.

I am filled with awe, overwhelmed with gratitude, and I am laying all of today's blessings at God's feet, right where they belong.

That Holy Spirit Thing (again)

This study of the Holy Spirit still has me tied up in knots.  Actually, I find the knots getting more complicated, rather than less, as I dig deeper.  Under normal circumstances, when delving into a new topic of study, I would pick an author as my expert and start there, branching out as I ingested the basics.

This particular subject doesn't necessarily lend itself well to that approach.  The Bible clearly is the preeminent textbook on the matter, and God would be the expert for me to tap as a mentor, but those facets just up the daunting factor, if you know what I mean.

A few weeks back, when I first tried to learn about the Day of Pentecost, I tried to dumb the subject down so that I could 'get it' right off the bat, and I just jumped on the thought of that moment being the Holy Spirit's first entry onto the stage when, in fact, that isn't the case.

The Holy Spirit is first introduced on page one of the Bible, of course, and there is ample enough mention of the Holy Spirit speaking through (or speaking to) Old Testament figures, so the book of Acts obviously wasn't the birth of the third piece of the trinity.  Acts may not even be the first instance of speaking in tongues, though I think I have been laboring under that assumption for some time.

I think my frightening lack of knowledge on this topic makes a clear case for blogging quietly here.  The last thing I want to do, after all, is say something that is completely theologically incorrect, and have someone read it and believe it as well-researched truth.  Then again, it should be abundantly obvious that I am expert on nothing except coffee consumption (if you know me at all, that is).

The only absolutely true knowledge I have of God can be summed up relatively succinctly: My faith is in God.  He has my (and your) best interests at heart, and my sole focus should be on glorifying God and on sharing His love and His word with unbelievers.

That said, my life is obviously out of focus and I am a lousy example of a life lived for God, but I am fairly certain that it is through the Holy Spirit that I will grow closer to God, will be better able to discern God's plans for my life, and will learn how to be able to share God with others.

So I think I am back at square one.  Unless my semantics are thoroughly screwed up (which is highly possible), I have received the Holy Spirit through repentance and belief, but have not yet been filled with the Holy Spirit.

I am ever humbled.

Inhibited

I do not doubt God's existence, nor do I take the Biblical narrative of Jesus' life and death with any grains of salt.  I have no trouble believing in the virgin birth and the resurrection, and I do not question the benevolence of the Father.

What I do doubt is my own ability to be passionate in worship, my desire to truly live for Jesus and to listen for instructions from God (and to obey those instructions without feigning deafness).

You know those people in church that throw their hands in the air during praise and worship?  I am not one of them.  Worship does often move me, but not in a demonstrative sort of way.  I don't shout 'Amen' nor do I lift my face to heaven in a spirit of absolute devotion, and I can't be sure whether this is a fault that I should be taking care to rectify or if it is acceptable to God for some to be less gregarious than others.

There is so much I am unsure of, but the questions I harbor regard my own faithfulness, not that of God.

Unconditional Love

There are mornings when the last thing I feel like doing is reading my Bible.  Most of the time, I find that my attitude changes as I read, and then I am grateful that I took the time to do so.

There are other times, though, when the whole thing is forced and I still feel like a fraud even after I have read, studied, prayed...

This morning was one of those times.

I cannot even imagine how difficult it must be to lead a church, to preach even when you can't hear God above the noise in your own head.  When you'd really rather just call in sick.  It has to be the most humbling of responsibilities to have, to know there are hundreds of parishioners who will have no other mediator between themselves and God for the next seven days (or longer).

For us, here in our little family, we have seen concrete evidence of the difference that is brought when Preston and I take the time to read our Bibles in the morning, and when Preston takes 30 seconds to hold my hand and pray with me before he leaves for work every day.  It seems like a cliche, I am sure, but even when I open my Bible and retain nothing from my reading, when I pray but do not feel the connection to God, when I drag my grumpy self to church on a Wednesday night when I would really rather stay home and paint my toenails, when I listen to Christian music in the car but hear nothing over the sound of the squabbling children, even in those times, I am better able to feel God's presence through the day than when I consciously choose not to do those things.

So I went to church last night, though I was too tired and distracted to listen to the message.  I read my Bible this morning, struggling through one little old chapter, and I half-heartedly prayed for God's guidance as the day began.  And when I raced to town, late and low on coffee, I parked the radio station on to Christian music (though it is possible that I blew a raspberry at one of the chipper little songs).

Even at times like this, I know God is here.  I feel crappy for treating Him so badly, and I am awed that He still shows up every day, despite the abuse I heap upon Him.  I am grateful, I am undeserving of this unconditional love, and I am humbled.  Always and forever humbled.

That Holy Spirit Thing

Just when I thought that this study of the book of Acts was leading me no closer to an understanding (read: acceptance) of the Holy Spirit, I came across the following little snippet in Preston's Study Bible as a note to Acts 5:3:  "...the Holy Spirit is regarded as God himself present with his people."


And just like that, it makes perfect sense.  Well, as perfect as something so esoteric can be, that is.


While I realize that this particular quote was used within the context of the verse it notates, and that this description is not directly from the Bible, but rather from an interpretation, it stands as the first crystal clear grasp I have gotten on the concept.  So I'm going with it.  I will embrace it fully, this tiny first step of comprehension, and see where it leads me.


'Tis both comforting and humbling.  Comforting to finally be able to read the words 'Holy Spirit' without feeling that twinge of irritation that something is utterly outside my ability to comprehend, and supremely humbling in that if maybe, just maybe, I had thought to actually take the radical step of properly studying the subject, I might have been able to move past my mental block at an earlier time.


Dear Lord: please help me to remember this lesson tomorrow, that a true desire to understand your word will be rewarded with true understanding, and thank you for opening my eyes to see something that had been right there all along.

More of Jesus, Less of Me

It has not escaped my notice that this blog appears to me more about myself than about God, and while my intention here is to [try to] write about my relationship with God, thus necessitating the insertion of myself into the narrative, I find it alarming (and more than a little troubling) that my usage of personal pronouns is so pronounced.

This, too, is humbling.

I am a self-centered, vain and imperfect creature, and to have recently spent the Easter season reflecting on Jesus and his supreme selflessness has, as should be expected, highlighted so many of my own flaws.  It is Jesus that I find myself drawn to in the Bible, more than to the Holy Spirit or to God Himself, which was, I suppose, much of the point of Jesus' being made human.  It makes him more relatable in a way, though his perfection is also made more awe-inspiring for the same reason.

How can I be so drawn to someone so filled with love, someone so blameless, when I am made to feel so little, so petty, so hard-hearted in comparison?

If the Church were to focus more on Jesus, wouldn't that make it more difficult for the world to be so disgusted by religion?  If I were to focus more on Jesus, wouldn't that make me better able to show the love of God to those who want nothing to do with Christianity?

In the mid-eighties, when I was in middle school, my mother and I trekked to Atlanta every Monday night to see Mylon LeFevre & Broken Heart play.  They were very much a part of my mother's return to church, and thus my own exposure to God, and they were very much a product of the time period.  Christian rock mirrored the styles of the times, much as it did for the following 10 years or so, so it is with no small amount of trepidation that I link the following video.  One must be able to overlook mullets and parachute pants, mustaches and the like.  I rather liked the 80's.

This band holds a very special place in my heart, and the song "More of Jesus" that appears in the following video is one that stuck with me through more than a decade of rebellion against the church; and last week, when I felt God moving my hand, and I wanted to rebel against even that, this song planted itself on repeat in my head, where it has remained stubbornly for the past eight days.

This is my prayer: to be more like Jesus, less like me.

A Brand New Prayer

I have this brand new prayer that I wish desperately to continue to want to pray: God, keep this new hunger for your Word alive inside of me.  Do not let me become distracted by meaningless circumstances, as I so often have before.


I like it here.  Very much.  'Here' in this newfound desire to immerse myself in the Word and to learn more about the teachings of Jesus, and 'here' also being this page, this place where I am hoping to put on paper (read: screen) whatever it is that God would have me to say.

Not that I'm doing exactly THAT yet, but I'm hopeful...

I have not yet gone (very) public with this journal, partly because I do not yet know what direction I am being led in, but also because I have a nasty little habit of wanting an audience, of needing the validation that comes from having a readership.  If this is to be for God's glory, rather than my glory, then a site meter is out of the question, and self-promotion would be ever unseemly.  I have listed this link over in the sidebar on my food blog and on my Facebook page, but with no announcement or fanfare at this time, and while this might appear to be a humble move on my part, it has not escaped my notice that this is sort of the way I have always approached being public about my faith.

If anyone asks me where I stand on matters of religion, then I do not hesitate to say that I am a believer, but I am pretty certain that I do not make it obvious to others that I am a follower of Christ.  I do not bring up God to my non-churched friends.  I even, dare I admit it, avoid the topic altogether with my atheist friends.

Ever heard of The Great Commission?  Well, we could just go ahead and list that one under the heading of 'Things at Which Sarah has Completely Failed.'

I like to think this is because I prefer to show Christ to others through the way I live my life, rather than shoving my religion down the throat of those who might be offended, but that is only a polite way of saying that (1) I act like I am ashamed of my faith, (2) I feel so unqualified on the subject of religion that I stay away from the topic so as to not be embarrassed by my abject ignorance, and (3) I care more about what people think than I care to let on.

So, is it a humility thing that is keeping me semi-quiet about this forum, or is it fear?

The Gift

I am almost at a loss as to where to begin in describing the utter lack of understanding I have about the Holy Spirit.  At some point, many years ago, from some source (but which could very well have been my own bizarre and flawed interpretation of said source), I came to believe that being filled with the Holy Spirit was synonymous with speaking in tongues.

Ergo, if one did not speak in tongues, one was not baptized in the Holy Spirit or filled with the Holy Spirit or indwelt by the Holy Spirit... 

The tongues thing was a BIG part of the church I was raised in, and now that I think about it, I do not recall a service ever going by in which there wasn't at least one instance of someone speaking out in tongues and then having their message interpreted.  At the time, rather than being awed by what was happening, I remember feeling vaguely uncomfortable.  The discomfort was due more to my own fear of being a freak for God than anything else.  

Now though, after speaking with a few people whose opinion I respect greatly, I find myself under the impression that one can be filled with the Holy Spirit without speaking in tongues, and I am relieved by this, though that is a bit embarrassing to admit.  I am still not sure that my understanding is correct, nor am I proud of my fear of speaking in tongues, but there it is.

It is supremely humbling to speak so plainly about this.

It seems to me that I would ideally be getting my answer straight from the Bible, rather than from footnotes in the Study Bible or from a commentary or even from a learned friend or teacher, but the simple truth is that I rely heavily on others to interpret the Bible for me, and this, too, is humbling.

This morning, while reading Acts 2 (again) and digging deeply into each and every word, I found myself reading and re-reading verse 38 for quite some time:  "Peter replied, 'Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.  And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit."

I repent on a continuous basis, and if a day goes by in which I have not repented, it is only because I have failed to repent, not because I have run out of things to repent for.  So then, have I been given the gift of the Holy Spirit?  Is it already here and I just don't recognize it or appreciate it?  Has it been given to me, but then did I fail to receive it?  Did I reject the gift?  Do I reject it still?

Am I receiving the gift right now?  Am I being filled at this very moment, and is that why I am finally (FINALLY) feeling the words of the Bible as I read them so hungrily?

Is it even possible to have as strong of a faith as I think I have and yet to be so ignorant?

Five Words In

I tried explaining to God that I wasn't qualified to write about Him, and, as if to illustrate my point, I got tripped up only FIVE WORDS IN when I began my intensive study of the book of Acts a few days back.


I had assumed there would be topics I would chase through Strong's Concordance and Preston's Study Bible and maybe a few other places, but to get flummoxed by the fifth word is not the way to get off to a good start.  And to be honest, it made me feel a bit daft.


Acts chapter one begins, "In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do...".  Well now, I generally pride myself in having a relatively firm grip on the English language, so it was clear that Theophilus was either the name of the book the author is referring to as "[his] former book," or is the name of a person (which did not seem likely) or to a place (which didn't make a whole lot of sense grammatically, but would make my study a little easier).


So I backed up a few paragraphs to read the introductions to the book of Acts, and subsequently the book of Luke, in both my old Student Bible and Preston's Study Bible, and, lo and behold, began to learn the most fascinating information.


First, Acts is believed to have been written by Luke, the well-educated physician with a superb grasp of the Greek language and a gift for intriguing storyline, who also, of course, wrote the book of Luke.  Ancient Greek culture has long been a source of fascination to me, so the fact that God has planted me here in the book of Acts with this instruction to write about Him is both awe-inspiring and supremely comforting.  I may be inadequate in knowledge and twisted up in flawed theology, but this is clearly the proper starting place for a firm foundation to be staked.


Back to that fifth word, though: Theophilus, as it would become clear with just the slightest bit of study (which I should point out had never occurred to me to do before this point) is neither the name of the former book (that would be 'Luke') or the name of a city or a church.  Theophilus is a particular person.


Can you imagine?  A book in the Bible (two actually) that is addressed to a single man?  I find that mind-boggling.


And so it was that after two days of studying the introductions to Acts that I finally actually began today to focus on the book itself.  If there is so much to glean from a brief introductory summary, then I am fairly beside myself to see what else will be learned here.  And how is it that I have just sailed through Bible reading before, moving through a few chapters a day without more than a cursory glance at most of what was written there?  I mean, it spoke to me, I learned truths, but retained very close to nothing in the way of actual deep-in-the-soul understanding.  Obviously my attention had not been full or even, dare I admit it, as much as I would have devoted to a run-of-the-mill detective novel.


This, too, is humbling.

Obedience

I am not one of those people who hears clearly from God on a regular basis, or even (honesty alert) on an occasional schedule.  There are those who do, I am aware, and when I hear them say, "Well, God told me that..." or "God showed me...," sometimes the only thought I can muster is a grumpy 'Well, bully for you."


This, too, is humbling.


I get nudges that I tend to attribute to God, though I cannot be sure whether it is actually God's voice or my own conscience giving me a pinch, or if there is even any discernible difference between the two.  There is a man in our church, a dry-witted type not prone to emotional demonstrations who is an incredible fount of knowledge on Biblical matters.  He said once (and I paraphrase) that God's voice will sound very much like our own voice.


I found that to be a profound and partially terrifying thought.  If this is true, then I hear from God much more often than I obey Him.


So I have tried to let my conscience be my guide, assuming that it may be God who is guiding me, and hoping for the best rather than actually exerting true effort into learning how to distinguish God's voice.   I am hoping to change that, and I think it is the elusive Holy Spirit who provides that bridge.


Elusive to me, that is.


Sunday morning, I heard loud and clear from God, and I can be sure it was in fact God because of the nature of what was said.  I bowed my head to pray at the end of Sunday School, and before I heard a word from the teacher who was leading the prayer, or even readied my own mind to focus on praying, I heard "Write about me."


Well, clearly that was God, because from what I understand, if anyone truly means it when they pray to God for guidance on what direction their life should go in, then the answer will come as a bit of a shock. See, when I was praying for said guidance (and I have been praying this prayer for many months now), what I meant was, "Should I build my bookkeeping business back up again, or should I be focusing on starting a semi-career in food writing (my great love)?  Should I even be thinking along the lines of making more money or should my attention be aimed more at homeschooling?  Is homeschooling what God would have me to do right now?"


So, yes, what I was doing was giving God a few options that appealed to me, and asking Him to narrow the field down so that I could be doing His will in my life.  And yes, I see the irony here.  How can one truly ask God for guidance without giving God the leeway to decide the entire direction one should move in?


I understand though, that this particular fault is not one that I own all the rights to.  I heard J. Lee Grady speak recently, and he said roughly the same thing, that he prayed, "Lord, send me, just don't make me get on a airplane."  And of course, Mr. Grady now flies all over the globe speaking.  A woman I admire very much has often recounted the tale of when she asked God to guide her steps, but tried to tell Him that she would do anything as long as she didn't have to speak in front of people.  Of course, she was put in front of large groups of women almost immediately.


So I should have known better, because it tends to be Christian literature that I am particularly snobbish about.  While I am fully aware that there is plenty of garbage out there in secular reading material that I could better focus my literary snootiness upon, I find that I am rarely engaged by (brutal honesty alert) contemporary books written for the Christian audience.  These things tend towards the emotional, which I prefer to avoid, and emotional writing often breeds the excessive use of exclamation points.  Actually, that doesn't quite sum up my issue.   See, I just don't talk that way.  I don't say "Well, Praise the Lord," after a particularly moving sermon.  Instead, I say something completely inane (yet perfectly sensible to me), like "That was a rock-and-roll sermon, Pastor."  


I meant it in the best possible way when I said that, and thankfully, I have a pastor who apparently gets where I'm coming from (or else is long-suffering in his manner of humoring me), but you see what I mean, right?  My tone just doesn't lend itself to contemporary Christian writings.


Lest I be completely misunderstood, I do not mean to imply that contemporary Christian writers are not anointed by God, or that I do not respect these authors.  They are beloved by many, their writing is needed, and if God put them on this path, then obviously it is my attitude that needs changing, not their writing style.  And besides, there are plenty of them that I do very much enjoy reading.  Be that as it may though, on Sunday morning, when I clearly heard God say, "Write about me," my first thought was, "Oh, no, you don't, God.  I want to write about food.  This writing thing is mine, and as you know, my knowledge about you is woefully inadequate and I am wholly unprepared to write anything about you.  I want to write about food.  Maybe you could open some doors for me at Vegetarian Times or something along those lines instead, hmmm?"


God has a sense of humor.


I came home with my tail between my legs and thought about not even bringing this up to Preston, but I knew I needed to be obedient (and be held accountable), in whatever form this might take.  If I truly want a deeper relationship with God, then maybe I could start by actually being responsive to God's voice.


And so it is that I am here, writing these words.  Making uncomfortable thoughts public.  Being obedient.

Pentecost

I have decided to camp out in the book of Acts for a little while.  This is a book I have read previously, more than once in fact, and while it is a book I enjoy reading, as a general rule, I retain next to nothing after time spent studying the Bible.  I know countless people who can pull a memorized Bible verse out of a hat when they need it, but I am not one of those.  At any given time, other than the usual suspects, like John 3:16, or the better part of 1 Corinthians 13, the only verse I can call to mind is the one my 6-year-old is memorizing for his Sunday School class.

This, too, is humbling.

I spent some time doing a Beth Moore study on the book of Esther some time ago, and was more than suitably gratified by how much I learned from the study.  Esther is a short book, and not one that is often quoted from the pulpit, but one which, for obvious reasons, is encouraging to women, especially those of us who embrace the more palatable tenets of feminism.  

The study was exciting to me, both in its historical significance - I studied Greek culture extensively in college and was thrilled to encounter some characters from the Persian Wars right there in my very own Bible - and in the comfort I drew from gleaning some concrete intellectually-satisfying knowledge about the Bible.  Of course, I fully intended to go to the bookstore and pick up another Beth Moore study, but, well, I didn’t.  I forgot, life went on, it wasn’t important enough to me to focus on...

So it goes that I will now throw down my hat in this place, in the book of Acts.  Here I will remain until I feel I am really, truly getting to know the book.  According to my Student Bible, the one I used in high school and which has been gathering dust on a shelf until now, “...Acts reads like a novel, skipping from one exhilarating scene to the next.  Wherever the apostles went, action swirled, riots erupted, and a small church took root.  In an era when new religions were a dime a dozen, the Christian faith became a worldwide phenomenon.  Acts tells how.”

It was the introduction of the Holy Spirit as a character (pardon me if I continue on in the vein of the author of the above quote), that made this possible, and it is the Holy Spirit which I feel nearly certain is what is lacking in my own, oh, what’s the word?  Walk?  Faith?  Relationship with God?

I have had a singular encounter with the Holy Spirit (I think) and it was mind-blowing, but an introduction does not a relationship make, and there is just so much I do not know.  It makes sense on a poetic level that this is not something one will ever fully understand, but the gap between me and anything called the Holy Spirit seems to be ever-widening.

I have a feeling I will be hanging out here in Acts for a while.

Exhibit One

On our way into the church parking lot this morning, I remarked on how happy I was to see that the wooden crosses from Easter were still up in their prominent place by the street.  When Preston said he thought they might be leaving them up for The Day of Pentecost, I, in my infinite lack of knowledge on what is important, said, rather ashamedly, “What is The Day of Pentecost?”

I credit my husband with being supremely patient with my ignorance on matters of faith.  

“When The Holy Spirit came...” he started to answer.

“Oh.  Yeah,” I replied dully, feeling, well, quite dull, to be honest.

How is it that I know so little about the Bible?  About biblical history?  About my own faith?  About what really matters?

After church, in an attempt to actually deepen my knowledge instead of remaining content with ignorance, I checked Wikipedia and re-read Acts chapter 2.    It is humbling to admit this is the first time I ever gave the term ‘Pentecost’ any real thought.  Here is what I learned:

The Day of Pentecost is 50 days after Easter, and is celebrated on the 8th Sunday, counting Easter Sunday, to commemorate the Holy Spirit descending upon the apostles and other followers of Jesus who were present that day.  This is the first appearance of the Holy Spirit, and is what enabled the disciples to go out and preach to all, and to be understood by those who spoke different languages.  It was this event from which the Pentecostal Christian movement took its name.

I have not yet been baptized in the Holy Spirit, and I question whether maybe it has not happened because I do not truly want it to happen.  This, too, is humbling.