Sun, May 23, 2021
Speaking or sighing?
Romans 8:22-27 & Acts 2:15-17 by Craig de Vos
Series: Sermons

According to H. L. Mencken––

the early Twentieth Century American humourist–– “The chief contribution of Protestantism to human thought is its massive proof that God is a bore”. 

And, with respect to so much of Protestant worship down the ages…

I think he’s absolutely right!

So much of it has been––

and continues to be––

a dull and dreary word-fest…

with preachers rambling on ad nauseam

with virtually no colour or meaningful movement…

entrapped in stark buildings devoid of any real beauty.

And perhaps, that’s why…

for many people…

its polar opposite, namely, much of modern Pentecostalism, is so appealing.

First, there’s the so-called “contemporary worship”––

with its upbeat, guitar and drum-driven music and concert-like vibe…

along with ‘hip’ preachers who––

rock-star like––

wander back and forth across a spot-lighted stage…

offering light-weight scripture-verse salads…

and simplistic slogans…

that usually encapsulate theological triumphalism…

and some form of prosperity gospel…

namely, the idea that God wants you to be rich and successful.

And, secondly, the focus is almost entirely on personal experience––

having a personal relationship with Jesus…

made possible and actualised by an infilling with the Spirit;

and a personal experience of the Spirit’s gifts––

the so-called “Charismatic gifts”––

through which, they believe, the Spirit enables them to speak in strange languages;

or enables them to discern God’s will in a special way––

which, strangely, is always rather trite…

conservative…

and a perfect reflection of whatever it is that their leaders tell them that it ought to be;

and, they believe that they receive power to go out and witness in Jesus’ name…

because it’s God’s will for them to convert everyone else…

and save their souls from going to hell.

Modern Pentecostalism wants us to believe that true religion––

that is, a religion that’s dominated by the Spirit––

is loud, flashy, and showy…

and, both personally and outwardly, powerful and triumphalistic.

Of course…

for them…

the story of the day of Pentecost in the Book of Acts––

which we heard read this morning––

is a central one.

Its emphasis on the Spirit’s coming in dramatic, life-changing ways––

transforming the meek and timid disciples into bold and brazen missionary preachers…

who overcome obstacles…

and experience seemingly unbridled numerical growth—

is programmatic.

That, for them, is what the coming of the Spirit means.

That, for them, is what the Spirit does.

That, for them, is who the Spirit is.

And, perhaps, in a slightly more subtle and nuanced way…

we have bought into that idea as well––

even if our reaction is one of awkwardness, bordering on embarrassment.

We may baulk at their methods, but we envy their success.

We may overtly reject the crassness of some of their theology… 

but, inadvertently, we embrace parts of it…

including its underlying intent.

As such, it’s probably true that––

for most of us in the Church––

the story of Pentecost in the Book of Acts has defined for us the nature and work of the Spirit.

 

And yet, we need to remember that––

anthropologically speaking––

the Pentecost story is a myth. 

It’s a story that the author of Acts has constructed––

drawing upon traditional Hebrew ideas and imagery––

in order to explain and to make a point.

It’s a story that has been constructed as part of the author’s theological agenda…

trying to persuade his readers that God is in control of this world…

and that the spread of the Gospel to the very ends of the earth… 

cannot and will not be thwarted.

 

But it’s important to remember that that’s not the whole story.

Nor is it even the only story.

That’s not the only way to understand the Spirit of God…

and the Spirit’s work in us and our world.

Indeed, the image that we get of the Spirit from our reading from the Letter to the Romans… 

is a vastly different one.

It’s decidedly non-Pentecostal––

in both senses of that term.

Here, Paul speaks of human suffering. 

Specifically, he speaks of human suffering in sympathy with the groanings of the world;

suffering in sympathy with the groans of a creation that is out of synch with God’s intentions;

suffering in sympathy with the groans of a creation that is under the burden of human exploitation…

neglect…

and destructiveness.

And Paul speaks here…

of the suffering and alienation that God’s people experience as they contemplate that––

as they witness the pointless brutality and brokenness in the world around them––

and as they yearn for a humanity and a world made new.

He speaks of a sense of profound sorrow and exasperation––

one that cannot really be articulated;

a sorrow that those of us who care, experience when we hear and see things like…

whales senselessly slaughtered…

or Palestinians huddling among the ruins of their city…

or terrified Ethiopians displaced by the civil war raging in their country…

or Covid-ravaged bodies washing up in the Ganges…

or emotionally scarred adults recounting horrific tales of childhood abuse… 

at the hands of priests in the church.

And it’s there

in that gut-felt, inarticulate sighing of the soul––

Paul suggests––

the Spirit exists and the Spirit is at work among us.

According to Paul, the Spirit isn’t among us and within us in order to empower us. 

It isn’t given to make us stronger. 

It isn’t intended to equip us to act––

at least not directly. 

Rather, Paul suggests, the Spirit works within us helping us to pray. 

It’s not that the Spirit works to show us how to pray––

as some translations suggest…

as if prayer were an activity whose efficacy depended upon the right words… 

or the right formulae… 

or the right rituals;

as if God were some stern judge or despotic Mediaeval monarch…

whom we dare not approach otherwise.

No!

Paul suggests that the Spirit works to show us what to pray for…

when we’re not really sure;

when we struggle to give form or content to our inexplicable longings;

when we don’t know how to articulate our inarticulate groanings;

when we’re not really sure how we, as people of God, should respond appropriately.

As such, Paul is suggesting that the role and purpose of the Spirit…

is to prompt us…

in prayer…

to align ourselves with God’s purposes in the world. 

Prayer, in order words, is not about asking…

or expecting…

an interventionist God to do something.

Nor is it like a child’s wish list for Father Christmas.

Rather, prayer is a shifting and a focussing of how we see… 

and what we hope to see. 

Prayer is an exercise in looking with God’s eyes…

in thinking God’s thoughts…

in responding with God’s compassion and empathy.

Prayer is, fundamentally, an exercise in the shifting of our values and priorities.

As the Danish philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard, once  put it: 

prayer doesn’t change God;

rather, it changes the one who prays.

 

The Spirit… 

according to Paul… 

is that manifestation and experience of God within…

who moves within our groanings, yearnings, and longings…

helping us to discern God’s purposes and God’s ways…

and prodding us to orient our lives around them.

And…

ultimately… 

it’s the Spirit’s quiet, gentle, wordless prodding… 

which will transform us… 

and our world.