Yesterday, at church, it was the feast of the Pentecost, celebrating the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the apostles of Jesus. And that’s fantastic, it was a miracle, although oftentimes we forget because miracles usually have to do with healing the sick or raising the dead. That is what the modern day church prays and asks for, this outpouring of the Spirit, with fervor and yearning. A repeat of the same miracle that happened all those years ago. But that’s not what this is about. The heaviness in my heart has to do with the miracle that happened after the Spirit came upon the apostles.
The Bible is an amazing collection of memories, and the fact that we get to read words recorded by the very people who were alive with Christ, who walked with Him, talked to Him face to face… Well if anything can be extraordinary in a person’s autobiography, that would definitely be the headline.
However, Acts of the Apostles 2:4-6 highlights the first part of the particular miracle I want us to focus on today. To paraphrase, it says that the apostles were filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them utterance, then they went out into the crowd filled with people from every nation on the earth and began to speak, and every man heard them in his own tongue. Again, that’s awesome, and a glorious miracle in itself, but I did a little maths here and two plus two definitely doesn’t equal four in this particular instance. So here’s the thing. The apostles were now 11, Judas had unnecessarily committed suicide for his part in fulfilling scripture, but that’s a mission for later. Anyways, he had, and so the remaining apostles were 11. And forgive me, but I don’t think there are just 11 countries on any one continent, let alone the entire world. Also, I’m not certain any single country speaks exactly the same language from border to border, hence the need for a lingua franca, to bridge language barriers across borders, whether within or between countries. In Nigeria alone, we have over 500 distinct languages spoken by the 371 ethnic groups in the country. So please, riddle me this, how can 11 people speak in over 5,000 languages?? And 5,000 is just me estimating. The answer? They can’t, pure and simple. Because they have just one mouth, and even if every other word that comes out of their mouth is in a different language, it would make absolutely zero sense to anyone that’s listening.
But then again, they didn’t need to. That’s the amazing part. That is the most bewildering mystery of this entire story for me. They didn’t need to speak in different languages at the same time. And I wasn’t there (I wish I was, but sadly I wasn’t), but seeing as God is not a God of confusion and His creative process is outlined in order, I believe each disciple spoke in “other” tongues. Other could mean that each spoke in the language of heaven, or in a different language that was not their own. But far be it from me to add or remove from the Word. Let’s just assume they spoke languages they hadn’t spoken before.
As far as I’m concerned, what they spoke wasn’t the point. The point was what the people heard. They each heard them in their own native tongue. Do you have any idea how crazy that is??!!
He hears in Greek, she hears in Spanish, the dude with pasta hears in Italian, the fine girl in a sari hears in Hindi. And on and on, for every single person. Maybe you guys aren’t getting it. There were people from every country on this earth in that place!! There’s the miracle! It’s right there!! In your ear, his ear, her ear. It’s in all our ears. The miracle is always in the one who receives it, who testifies.
I wasn’t sure what I was realizing, as I sat there in church, but as I went over the miracles that I know, I found that this theory held true. At the wedding in Cana, the instruction was, “draw… and take it to the headwaiter.” And when he tasted it, it was wine. Take it to someone who can experience it, take it to someone who can testify of it. That’s where the miracle most is, in the experience. That initial confusion, the astonishment, the fearful hope and finally, the complete submission to the extraordinary. That Is The MIRACLE. I’m not sure if you’re understanding what is happening, I don’t think I even fully understood what I realized yesterday. But let’s try again.
With Namaan, commander of the army of Syria, the miracle came in the midst of his anger and hurt pride, to show us that where we are doesn’t matter. Our bumps and scrapes are what make us human, but what we experience with God, that’s all there is that matters. Our emotions, here today, gone tomorrow, do they really count? Especially when compared to the constant, enduring love God has for us?
The miracle is, it always is, in our experience. In the realization that we can hear, we can see, we can breathe again.
The miracle is in our hearts, on the altar in the tabernacle of our very souls. It’s in our minds, like when the woman at the well was transformed after one single conversation. The miracle is in our obedience, like it was in the obedience of the 10 lepers.
We might not all have the tongues of fire upon our heads, or the burst of other tongues on our lips, but we are all called to the altar of our hearts, to carry God on our insides, to house Divinity within us. It is an experience that cannot be fully put into words, something that cannot be logically explained, only thoroughly felt and understood.
As far as I’m concerned? That is, and will always be, the greatest miracle of all.
Greetings from the foot of the Cross…
Gabby.
