The Lord Jesus, as the Christ of God, bore the Spirit and was borne by the Spirit throughout the whole course of his life in order that he might bestow the Spirit on his people. When Jesus sent the promise of his Father, fulfilling the prophecy of John the Baptist that he would baptize with the Holy Spirit (Luke 3:17; Acts 2:33), it was this same Spirit, the Spirit of Jesus himself, who was poured out upon the church on the day of Pentecost.

My pastor during my student days was a remarkable man by the name of William Still. As is true in most vibrant ministries, there were certain recurring themes in his preaching. Such ministries often have distinctive burdens shaped by experience, context, and biblical insights—motifs that run like a melodic line through the music of their preaching. One such motif in Mr. Still’s ministry was a regular reminder of the words of a Henry Francis Lyte hymn:

Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
What a Father’s smile is thine,
What thy Saviour died to win thee.
Child of heav’n, should’st thou repine?

The hymn is rarely sung now—the tune is far from contemporary, we have become allergic to “thee” and “thou,” and few today ever “repine”! We can afford the linguistic losses; but we cannot afford the theological and spiritual loss of the hymn’s exhortation to think what Spirit dwells within thee.

Forgotten Person of the Godhead?

Those were the days of what was usually described as “the charismatic renewal,” which in my teenage years was often accompanied by the divisive issue of whether speaking in tongues was the sure sign of the baptism of the Holy Spirit (and even of authentic Spirit-filled life). It was frequently stated in sermons or addresses that the Holy Spirit was “the forgotten Person of the Godhead.” The mantra was so often repeated that it seemed a truism. Who could doubt it?

But invariably, what was in view were the gifts of the Spirit (especially speaking in tongues and prophesying), not his Person. And over time, it became fairly obvious that possessing impressive (even apparently spiritual) gifts is neither identical to, or even necessarily accompanied by, communion with the person of the Spirit or the evident manifestation of his fruit. After all, Jesus himself indicated that it is possible to exercise extraordinary gifts and yet not be known by him and therefore to be bereft of the Spirit of grace (Matthew 7:21–23). Paul echoed the sentiment (1 Corinthians 13:1). Indeed, the “ministry” of some prominent individuals left a Simon Magus–like impression of an ambition to exercise impressive power and even to seem in control of the Holy Spirit (Acts 8:9–24).

For all the attention given to the gifts of the Spirit, the “forgotten Person of the Trinity” remained just that, and indeed an unknown Person. Missing was the aspiration of the ancient prayer of the church:

Teach us to know the Father, Son,
And Thee of Both, to be but One,
That through the ages all along
This may be our eternal song.
Praise to thine eternal merit,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

It was this Trinitarian—“whole Godhead”—perspective on the Holy Spirit that was cherished by the best of the early fathers of the church. It was recovered at the time of the Reformation by theologians like John Calvin, and in later centuries by others like John Owen, Thomas Goodwin, and Abraham Kuyper. The loss of this perspective has meant (at least during my lifetime) that an unnerving degree of “evangelical” teaching has had a unitarian rather than a Trinitarian tincture, focusing on the Father or the Son or the Holy Spirit, but rarely on all three persons of the blessed Trinity.

Who Is the Holy Spirit?

So, for all the repetition of the mantra that the Holy Spirit is no longer “the forgotten person of the Godhead,” it is questionable whether we enjoy richer, more intimate communion with the Spirit himself. So, the lingering question (at least for me) remains this: Who is the Holy Spirit? How can I think what Spirit dwells within me?

The answer surely requires a knowledge of the whole Bible. There is no shortcut—despite our cravings for one. For apart from the word of God, we have no means of knowing who he is or interpreting how he works. We no more invent the work of the Spirit than we invent the work of Christ.

My purpose here is not to decry genuine gifts of the Spirit and their importance for the life we enjoy together in our church families. Nor is it to marginalize the church’s need for the power of the Spirit to rest on our weakness—so long as we guard ourselves against the lust for power that will eliminate our sense of weakness, since the two belong together (2 Corinthians 11:29–30; 12:5, 9; 13:4). But neither gifts nor power-deeds equate to the “fellowship/communion” of the Holy Spirit, to knowing him and bearing his fruit.

What would you think of a husband who answered the question “Why do you trust and love your wife?” by saying, “She’s a fantastic cook, and I just love eating”? Or what would you think of a wife who, asked why she loved her husband, responded by saying, “He’s rich, he’s spectacularly good looking, and he makes me look good—and I love spending money and having other people look at me”? Would we not rather hear “I trust her because of who she is” or “I love him because he has given me the amazing privilege of the communion of love we enjoy”?

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