I am not a “party animal”. I’m not particularly fond of large noisy gatherings. I’ve been known to come in the front door, say hello to everyone, grab a drink, and leave by the back door. Or you can find me in some little nook, either looking at the books on the host’s bookshelves(one of my favorite things to do anywhere,) or talking very seriously with one or two people.
In the church year, I prefer Advent to Christmas (just not a “fa-la-la” person) and Lent to Easter. And Pentecost, with those “born of the spirit” people, brings to mind hazy memories of one incredibly large and loud college party, where one of my teachers and I were hitting on the same girl, a freshman whose father was on the Board of Trustees, and I woke up searching for a bottle of beer that didn’t have a cigarette butt in it. But I digress.
If you read the account of Pentecost in ACTS, it really is a noisy gathering, full of rowdy people screaming in languages they didn’t even know, showing off with miracles and trying to out-baptize each other. And, of course, as the early church grew, their fervor did not die down; they seemed bent on making as much commotion as possible. I guess the Spirit can do that to people. (Imagine if they all had blogs!!!)
My admiration grows for the early “Desert Fathers” (and Mothers,) who, amidst all the post-Pentecost hoopla of evangelism and church-forming, went off into the desert, one by one, each to be alone and search for God.
So much religious noise (I’m being kind) permeates our surroundings today. So many people, it would seem, have licenses from the Spirit to play games of “I know something you don’t know” and “I’m saved and you’re not.” And you get extra points for being very loud. (Don’t believe me? Look up “spirit” or “Pentecost” on YOUTUBE.) So here I am, at this party, and depressed as hell because I can’t find the back door that leads to the desert. What’s happened to the desert , anyway?
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