The silence echoed in the crowded room,

each person bent on praying, living, hoping,

and grieving his loss, his touch, his smile,

the room too small for his shortened life.

The air outside warming as the day begins,

their celebrations quietened, occluded by 

a cross,

an empty grave,

a hill top, angels and heavy hearts.


Shrinking from celebrations of Pentecost

the day God changed their history, 

gave Moses the Torah,

heralding a new isolated Israel,

they close ranks, support and pray.

Unexpectedly, a noisy, storm arises, 

violent winds tossing their lives about,

and lightning flames alighting on every head.

Non-consuming like the desert bush and

holy as the ground Moses, bare foot trod.


Wonder and awe, anxiety and fear, tumbled

through them igniting in their hearts, souls

and minds,

the love of God, Christ’s very Spirit poured

in and through and for our broken world.


Each tried to speak, each eyes saucer round,

and the flower of the Messiah’s mission crowned

                    and voices spoke and sang 

in praise for the everliving, omnipotent saviour.


Startled they listen and like angel choirs

they joined together in an explosion of joy,

every language blended as one as

the Holy One of Israel calling a world,

separated by their mother tongue

to a unity, unforeseen, unknown ’til

The faithfulness of a few opened,

and God flowed through.


The crowds were gaping, accusing, mystified,

understanding each their own language uttered,

as wonder abounded as Peter spoke of love and grace,

a new era begins

of possibilities of a place

where the poor have self worth,

the oppressed dignity, where

God’s Spirit dwells in human hearts.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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