Have you ever come to the last page of a fascinating, intriguing, hang-on-every-word book only to feel cheated that it didn't continue? Did you spend a few minutes reflecting on the story, the plot, the characters and considering what you read? Did you leave your easy-chair with a smile on your face, knowing that you couldn't pick up another book just then because nothing could possibly compare to what you had just read? I know that feeling! I recently finished reading the book of Acts.
As I read Acts 28 and realized the book was finished, I was overwhelmed by disappointment. I had been ripped off. The story wasn't over. It couldn't be. I wanted to read more healings, more divine intervention, more prayer, more faith, more fire, more Pentecost. It was not to be. I felt lost. I didn't know where to turn next. With 65 other books from which to choose, not one called out to me. I couldn't let it go. My mind kept going back to why it ended that way. I had spent 28 lovely days wrapped up in the events of Acts. I hungered to have that same fire of God and see it in my world. I contemplated the enormity of having enough faith in God--enough of God himself in me--to bring healing to others through his name. But my hunger and contemplation did not mask the fact that I was frustrated and a little irritated that the book had ended before I was ready to quit reading.
Finally, the light pierced through the fog of frustration clouding my brain. I had an epiphany. The book of Acts was never intended to end. All the praying and waiting, the faith and believing, the patience and persevering that culminated in the reward of Pentecost (Acts 1-2) was never supposed to be just an historical account, a one time thing. All the praying, preaching, and church building were never supposed to end. Acts was only intended to be the beginning; we are supposed to be its continuation.
It was a shocking revelation for, in that moment, I realized that we have completely, horrifically, inexcusably dropped the ball. We have failed to keep the fire of Acts burning in our hearts, our churches, our world. You see, it is not enough to read the Bible every day, pray a prayer, attend church. To simply habitually do those things is cheating ourselves and everyone around us. It is to tell God that we aren't interested in having all of him. We aren't interested in his fire, his presence, his power. It is simply to settle for a form of Godliness instead of seeking desperately for the real thing. It is, tragically, to decline Pentecost.
And who can afford to do that? Not I. I am not okay without Pentecost. The dry tinder of my soul continually cries out for the fire of the Holy Spirit that burns away the chaff and leaves only that which exudes Christ. I am hungry, my spirit clamors for Pentecost. I am desperate for what it accomplishes in me--the faith, the confidence, the fire. I am ineffective without it--a lamp without a flame. I am helpless with the wanting. I want God's fire to burn so fiercely in me that the cauldron of my soul bubbles up and flows over into the world--a light in a dark place. I want Pentecost in my heart that I may share it with those around me. I am nothing without it.
Are you okay without Pentecost? Are the accounts in Acts just stories to you? Is your God still big enough to light a raging, unquenchable fire in your soul?
If your desire for God doesn't consume you, if your need for Pentecost has gone cold, if you can't fathom the burning fire of the Holy Spirit visiting your church this Sunday, then you need to go read the book of Acts. Really read it. Immerse yourself in it. Allow yourself to imagine what it would have been like to experience it then. Imagine what it would be like to experience it now. And understand that you can. The same God who sent the fire of Pentecost to burn in the hearts of the early church is alive and working today. He hasn't changed and he wants to give us Pentecost. He wants to set our hearts on fire. He wants our souls to bubble up, overflow, and change the world.
So may we not be lax. May we realize that Pentecost was not intended to be a one-time thing. May we truly believe the acts of Acts were never supposed to end. May we, in taking up the torch, bow before God and sincerely beg, "Fire burn and cauldron bubble." And may we experience Pentecost.
**I don't know if God will ever lead me to write on this topic again, but that doesn't mean he isn't leading someone else to do so. If you are hungry to continue finding God's fire, swing over to https://encontrandofuego.blogspot.com and read the musings of a man deeply consumed with finding, kindling, and feeding the fire of God. Blessings!
