“What are we waiting for? And why me? Is it even right that I should be waiting for something more —something on top of all the blessings I’ve already been given?”

Jesus had left them behind — ascended to heaven just like that — and so it’s not hard to imagine Christ’s disciples asking these questions in that week and a half between his Ascension and Pentecost. 

Perhaps as they were walking back to the city from Bethany they were still trying to take it all in and process what they’d seen, but you can picture them that evening. Most of the way through dinner, one of the disciples finally dares to ask, “So, what do you think Jesus meant when he said, ‘you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now’?” (Acts 1:5)

And almost immediately another adds, “And what did he mean when he said that we ‘will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come’ on us?” (Acts 1:8)

The questions would come more easily than the answers.

So that night they start discussing it. One remembers one thing, another something else. They try to piece together everything they can, trying to construct some kind of understanding of what Jesus meant and what they were waiting for.

And perhaps thought more than spoken, they ask themselves whether the Lord was talking about all of them or just some.

But slowly things come together. Those who had followed John the Baptist first remember that he, when asked if he was the Messiah, said he wasn’t — but that the one coming after him—who was Jesus — would baptize “with the Holy Spirit and fire” (Mt. 3:11). And the Scriptures speak of fire from God as a purifier, and there was the pillar of fire with the Israelites in the wilderness, the fire and smoke on Mt. Sinai — and the fire that fell from heaven in Elijah’s time. Clearly there was something powerful and holy, maybe even frightening, about the Spirit Jesus said he was sending.

Then someone else recalls what Jesus had said to Nicodemus: “Unless someone is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God” and “The wind blows where it pleases. You hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” (John 3:5,8)

So, water, too — which washes, which nourishes, which satisfies, which grows. Jesus connected water — “rivers of living water” (John 7:38) — to the work of the Holy Spirit.

And wind — which comes and goes, which can’t be seen and can’t be commanded, but is real and has real effects. That’s the Holy Spirit, too.

The disciples remember and discuss still other things that Jesus said. How the Spirit would speak through them when they spoke for him (Mt. 10:20). How blasphemy against the Spirit closes the door on forgiveness (Mt. 12:31,32). How the Spirit gives life (John 6:63), and how he inspired the human authors of the Scriptures to write what they did (Mark 12:36). How the Holy Spirit was with and on Jesus and worked through Jesus, but that, somehow, they and the Father were together, worked together, were one, had all the same goals. And more recently, the night before he was crucified, they heard their Master call him “the Spirit of Truth” and “the Counselor” (John 14:17,26).

Then someone asks, “But what will this Holy Spirit do when he comes?” And they have to think a little harder. One remembers that Jesus said, “He will testify about me,” (John 15:26) and another that he said the Spirit of Truth would guide them into all truth—and tell them what is to come (John 16:13). They wonder even more. 

It sounds like the Holy Spirit’s going to take Jesus’ place. Empower, enlighten, change, teach them — but unseen. Not be with them as Jesus was, but be in them and work through them. Like fire. Like water. Like wind.

And then maybe one of the disciples says, “Those things don’t go together so well, do they? If you’re building a fire, you don’t want water or wind. And if you’ve got wind, you really don’t want it blowing fire or water around.”

But then someone new jumps in: “You know what else doesn’t go together so well? Me and the idea that I’m going to be given this wonderful, amazing, life-changing Holy Spirit. Maybe the rest of you, but not me.” Maybe Thomas, still feeling weak and unworthy after doubting that Christ had really risen from the dead, but it could be any of them. 

Each of them had fled from Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane when the mob came to take him—after pledging that same night to never deny or forsake him. Each of them had been stubborn and foolish, each had struggled to understand some of the simplest things, said straight out, and each had felt the sting of their Master’s rebuke when he called them “You of little faith”. “I’m not worthy” would be a very natural sentiment for any and all of the disciples.

So by the time Sunday morning comes, they really have no idea what that day will bring. They gather again in that upper room where so much has happened already. They eat a little breakfast and clean up. Maybe they have a devotion of some sort, or sing some hymns or psalms, or maybe even discuss plans for the day or week.

And then it happens.

A sound — loud, powerful, pervasive. Like wind — rushing, violent.

And then … tongues. Dividing, resting on each of them. Like fire — burning, brilliant.

The promised Holy Spirit came. Poured out on all of them. Like water — filling, potent.

And they began to speak, but … something new and amazing.  The Spirit gave them the ability to speak in languages they had never learned. 

Because he had a job for them already that morning. A crowd full of foreigners had come to investigate the sound, and he wanted all of them to hear Christ’s witnesses speak the wonders of God in their own tongues. It happened. They were baffled. They questioned. Some mocked. 

But the Spirit had come. And the Spirit brought Peter to his feet and gave him words. He explained:

“This isn’t new wine. This is what Joel prophesied. This is God pouring out his Spirit — putting his words in his servants’ mouths and showing his wonders to the world. Blood and smoke and darkness and … fire. So that those who see will call on the name of the Lord. And be saved.”

There was nothing timid or uncertain in Peter’s Pentecost preaching. He told the curious crowd what all that meant — whose name to call on and what they needed saving from — and how that saving happened.

He preached Jesus. And he convicted them — people who were living in Jerusalem weeks earlier and who should have known and done better — convicted them of killing the One God promised and sent to them: their Lord, the Holy One, the Son of God, their Savior.

But the Spirit had given Peter a greater goal than making them all feel guilty. He went on to tell them of the resurrected Christ, and his Ascension, and the poured-out Holy Spirit whose works they were now seeing and hearing.

The greater goal was met. The people were cut to the heart to know they had crucified their Lord and Christ and so they asked, “What should we do?”

And Peter told them what they needed — what the Spirit wants every sinner to hear: “Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.”

And about 3000 did. They repented, they believed, they were baptized. Cleansed and given life. With water— and the Word. (Acts 2:22-41)

Now imagine the disciples’ conversations that evening and for days and weeks to come:  “Did you see …?” “Did you feel …?” “Remember how …?” All that wonder and wow replaced their questions and doubt. Like wind, the Holy Spirit went where he was sent, and he wasn’t limited by anyone’s sense of self-worth. Like water, he was poured out generously on each and all of them, leaving no one out. Like fire, he kindled in each of them a power that consumed what was worthless and compelled them to speak the gospel and drew others to listen. And amazing things happened—in, around, and through them.

That’s the Pentecost story of the disciples and the others in that upper room. But what about you and me? What’s that story like?

A lot more like theirs than you probably realize. Oh, it’s easy to think about how special things were for the disciples — they had been with Jesus for years, seen his miracles and heard his teaching firsthand, and seen him resurrected and ascended to heaven. But they were still imperfect human beings, just like you and me.

And just like them, when we compare our lives and behavior to Christ, his standards, and the quality and generosity of his gifts, we feel uncertain and unworthy. It’s not just the guilt of our many sins. It’s the times when, like Thomas, we’ve declined to take God at his Word. It’s how so often, when being Jesus’ disciple feels kind of risky, the vows we took at our confirmations and the promises we made before the altar are forgotten and we flee instead of standing with him. It’s being stubborn and foolish and refusing to accept some of the simplest things, said straight out in the Scriptures. And it’s all those times when our lack of trust in God has shown us to also be “You of little faith”.

This is why even long-time Christians who know their Bibles well can hear or read Jesus’s promises about the Holy Spirit and look at what happened on Pentecost and think, “Well, that’s wonderful! But it can’t possibly be for me. That’s special stuff for special people. Worthy people. Not me.”

Flames, a splash of water, or a gust of wind might help wake us up to the error of such thinking. Because there is no distinction in Christ’s church between unworthy and worthy. Every last one of us is unworthy by nature and action. And every last one of us is made worthy by the grace of God.

Which is precisely why the Holy Spirit is so important. Because the message he brings—of salvation in Christ, which is taken hold of with the faith he gives—is what every sinner needs every day. He is the one who assures us, through the Word and Sacraments, that God is merciful and loves us, that all our sins are forgiven for Jesus’ sake, that eternal life is ours, and that we have a home in heaven. 

And then he is also the one who, after giving us faith, strengthens and equips us with everything we need for living the life we have been called to. He also brings us into the family and home that is the church, where we grow and glorify our Lord, where we worship and witness and work.  We may not see 3000 new believers baptized in a day because of what he says and does through us, but what we do know and experience—and trust God for—provides more than enough wonder and wow to replace our questions and doubts.

You see, we don’t need special signs or spectacles when we already have the Holy Spirit. Amazing things continue to happen wherever the gospel goes — the lost are found, the filthy are cleansed, the spiritually dead are brought to life, sinful creatures are re-made into redeemed children of God.

And we don’t have to wait for any of it or make ourselves worthy of it. We just keep on doing what Paul told the Ephesians: “Be filled with the Holy Spirit.” We do that with Scripture and the Sacraments — and with psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs we speak to one another. (Eph. 5:18-21)

And as we do, the Spirit will come and do his work in, around, and through us. Like fire. Like water. Like wind.  Amen.