St Margaret's Church Prestwich

This month’s letter comes from Rev Sue:

June 8^th this year is the Feast of Pentecost—the climax of the Easter season, coming ten days after the Feast of the Ascension. We hear in Acts chapter 2 the dramatic account of the coming of the Holy Spirit. Around 120 followers of Jesus were gathered together, waiting for the promise he had made to be fulfilled. Suddenly, there was the sound of a rushing wind, and tongues of flame appeared above each of them. Miraculously, they began to speak in languages they didn’t know, so that people from across the Roman Empire—gathered in Jerusalem for a Jewish festival —heard the disciples preaching in their own languages. The disciples were so exuberant that some bystanders assumed they had been drinking, even though it was only 9 a.m. But Peter stood up and preached about Jesus’ life, death and resurrection so powerfully that, by the end of the day, 3,000 people had joined them. The Christian Church had come into being.

It has to be said that life in our churches—St Margaret’s and St George’s—feels very different. We came away from the APCM without anyone having volunteered to serve as churchwarden. Our congregation continues to age, which inevitably brings more illness. There are too many funerals. Numbers are declining. So where is the Holy Spirit in all of this?

There’s no easy answer. But there are things we can take away from the story of Pentecost.

First, the disciples were gathered together. The norm for Christian life is to meet together on Sunday for the breaking of bread. We still have a faithful and regular congregation who prioritise Sunday morning worship. Others who cannot come, join us via Facebook, and home communions help to include the housebound in our church life.

The first sign of the Spirit was the sound of a wind. In his gospel, John writes: “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” We can prepare ourselves to receive the Spirit, but we cannot control when he comes. There’s a sweet spot between giving up and trying so hard that we exhaust ourselves and grow despondent.

Another vivid image of the Spirit comes from the book of Ezekiel. The prophet sees a valley full of dry bones. God breathes on them, and they are knit together, clothed with flesh, and finally brought to life by God’s breath.

The waiting and the breath come together in meditation, practiced by Christians over many generations. Sit as still as you can and simply focus your attention on your breathing.  Don’t try to do anything—just let go. If this is new to you, start with five minutes. Set a timer. Repeat the practice daily until you feel ready for more, then add another five minutes. Build up gradually to half an hour.

Commit this time to God. Have no expectations, and don’t judge yourself for wandering thoughts—just calmly return to your breath. In my experience, with a daily discipline, the mind becomes more peaceful, and there is joy to be found even in the midst of suffering.

If we all meditated for half an hour every day would that revitalise the church? Who can say? But it would help us be more open to the Spirit’s prompting. It would refresh us and give us perspective. The rest is up to God.