Jesus completed his work by giving the Spirit to his people. His promises to make them into springs of running water, his promises that he would send a helper, his promises to return to each of them and be with them forever were fulfilled in that moment.

Jesus had left the disciples. They’d seen him ascend into heaven. He’d given them a mission, his mission. He’d told them to wait.

So, that’s what they did. They waited. For ten whole days. It must have been absolutely excruciating. Most of us find it hard enough to wait for a bus, let alone anything important. This would be one of the most important events in history, utterly life-changing for each of them, and there they were swinging their heels. Waiting.

The Jewish festival of weeks, or ‘Pentecost’, rolled around, like it did every year, fifty days after the first sheaf was cut in the barley harvest. Seven weeks after the end of the Passover. Seven weeks since the world turned upside down and a dead man walked out of a tomb.

Nothing was ever going to be the same. Except, it looked awfully similar to before, waiting around Jerusalem like a bunch of smiling malcontents.

Then their waiting ended. Having died, been raised, and ascended into heaven, Jesus completed his work by giving the Spirit to his people. His promises to make them into springs of running water, his promises that he would send a helper, his promises to return to each of them and be with them forever were fulfilled in that moment.

And then, again, everything changed. It’s like the dramatic twist in a film or book when all the threads come together and the story shifts and changes. He’s a ghost? He’s his father? They’re the same man?

Brightness appears above one of their heads, and spreads from one to another like flames in a fire. A sound, roaring past their ears, like standing in a gale. Or perhaps something different, it’s a little mysterious. Whatever they saw and heard, they saw and heard it. It was definitely visible, audible and dramatic. You couldn’t be there and miss it.

Our expectation of the Spirit doing something is so often invisible, inaudible and inconspicuous. We describe him like he’s the secretive silent partner in the Trinity, like an investor backing up a business. The manager makes the decisions but behind the scenes Mr. H. Spirit is providing the funds. Essential, but never interfering. It’s hard to back this up from the Bible: the Spirit is often big, bold, and in our faces. You can’t miss what he’s doing.

This fits with my experience as well. It’s rare to pray with someone, have the Spirit move on or in them, and not be able to tell. It’s often visible, most commonly in people’s reactions or expressions, but sometimes in a mysterious way that’s hard to describe, you can see the Holy Spirit on someone. It’s a shadow or a whisper of what we see described in Acts 2, but he still acts in the same way today as he did then. Nothing has changed. My expectation is very low, but that’s my problem.

This doesn’t mean that the Spirit is never subtle (though unlike wizards he isn’t quick to anger—the opposite, dear friends), he often works carefully and slowly. It does mean that we must expect powerful encounters because this is what most of the Biblical accounts allude to.

Silence turns to wind and fire. Waiting turns to action. A small group to a great multitude. A locked door to a teaming street. Timid believers to firebrands, bold as brass.

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