“Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each one of them.” Acts 2:3
I have to admit that if a bunch of fireballs suddenly appeared out of nowhere and one of them decided to make a beeline for me, I would not be amused. Also, everyone in the vicinity would know that I, in fact, do scream like a little girl. With that in mind, I have to giggle when I think of how the apostles must have first reacted when that very thing happened to each one of them on Pentecost. I wonder if any one of them screamed like a little girl? If any of them was knocked flat on their back when the Holy Spirit hit them smack on the forehead? But most of all, I wonder what it must have felt like the second after the Holy Spirit touched them with the fire of His love. Did it hurt at first? Did they feel His peace suddenly flood into their hearts? Did any of them hesitate to accept the gift the Holy Spirit was offering them?
Pentecost Sunday is one of my favorite Sundays of the year. This last Sunday was no exception (even though a bowl of corn salad decided to give me the gift of food poisoning) and I can’t help but wish that we could have maybe two or three Pentecost Sundays a year – especially because I know for a fact that most of us do need a fire lit under our “spiritual” rear ends every once in a while.