I am grateful that I have to wear a black shirt and a collar every day to work because I have absolutely no style at all. If I had to put together an outfit every day, it would be a nightmare for me.
My husaband and I have a running joke. If I step out of the closet and ask him, "Does this work?" The answer is always, "NO." In fact, these days JD won't even look up from what he is doing. If I step out of the closet and ask him if an outfit works, he will say no without even looking up.
In all the years that I have been a priest, about once a month or so, someone will ask to speak with me in private. They will tell me about a miracle that occurred to them. One woman told how she saw a strange man across a crowded room some seventy years ago and she heard a voice say, "That is your husband." And they did marry and stayed married for over sixty years. Another woman was widowed in her thirties with two small children. She stopped at a traffic light one day, feeling completely lost and overwhelmed, and a presence of peace came over her, a peace like nothing she had ever felt before.
People tell me these incredible stories that they don't dare mention to anyone else and then they ask me the same question,
"Was that God?"
And my answer is always, "YES!"
In fact, I don't even need to hear their stories anymore. The answer is always YES.
The season of the Holy Spirit is approaching. Pentecost. It is a season of great mystery, of wild miracles and people who speak in tongues. But we have become shy when it comes to speaking of the Holy Spirit. We worry that people will think we are mentally unstable or somehow medieval. We are afraid to name God's activity among us for fear of being judged by others.
In Peter's day, it was not embarrassing to name God's presence. It was considered an honor to be visited by God. So Peter spoke openly about his visions and his faith in Jesus. He loved to speak of the Holy Spirit.
A friend of mine lost her grandson when he was just 15 years old. He loved to play golf. His name was Chris. Every year, on the day of his death, his family plays a round of golf. It is their way of celebrating his life.
This year, it was pouring down rain when the grandmother and her son (the boy's father) found themselves trying to play golf. They both felt like fools. They could hardly see the ball. Chris' dad teed up and promptly hit the ball into a pond. So they went over to the pond, already sopping wet, to fish out the ball.
Chris' dad managed to salvage the ball from the pond, but he just stood there looking at it. His mom came over to see what was wrong. Without a word, he handed her the ball. There, written in someone's handwriting was his name, Chris.
Name it-The Holy Spirit. It is God's activity among us. It is the idea that just pops into your head from nowhere. It is the math problem that you couldn't solve that just seems to resolve itself in your mind in your sleep. It is running into just the person you needed to see. It is the smile on the face of your loved ones. Name it!
Don't be afraid to name it. You are not crazy. You are just Christian.
