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Acts 2:1 - 21

June 8, 2003

Wesley, Doncaster East


Like the man they’d left everything to follow, they were middle-aged – most of them were. Not only had they sacrificed decent jobs with decent incomes, they’d totally committed themselves.

When others left – and they’d left in their droves – they’d stayed. It hadn’t been easy wandering the tracks of Palestine. They never knew quite where he’d head to next. What they did and where they went was completely up to him.

But they’d stayed to the end – sort of. When he’d been put to death, they weren’t to be found. Even his staunchest friend couldn’t even say a good word for him.

Then it was all over.

Yet there were things they remembered: things he’d told them. They hadn’t made sense at the time. He’d talked about death – and that was the last thing on their minds. They had dreams and plans. His death just didn’t fit. They didn’t want to believe what he’d said.

He’d also said something about the third day after his death. They’d neither taken that in nor understood.

The third day had taken them by such surprise, that they almost seemed stunned.

Week followed week as they thought, and talked, and prayed about what had happened.

They thought. They talked.  They prayed.

They didn’t know what to do.

They thought some more. They talked some more.  They prayed some more. Maybe they argued.

They still didn’t know what to do.

A week of weeks passed.

Then on the fiftieth day – Pentecost – it happened.

The penny dropped.

It all made sense: they understood.

Their malaise was over. Enthusiasm swept over them. They knew what to do and things would never be the same again.

How did they explain what happened that day? Was it the result of their thinking? Was it the result of their talking? Was it the result of their praying?

They were convinced it was an act of God: a mighty rushing wind of the Spirit sweeping over them; the Spirit resting on each one of them like tongues of fire.

They were like fallen leaves swept around by the wind – but with a purpose. They were like cartoon characters with light bulbs over their heads: it all made sense – and gave their lives new meaning.

They were on the move and would never rest again – until their living was complete.


Let’s see what the wind and light of Penny-dropt can mean for us.

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