Pentecost C: A Spirit of Courage

Dear Partner in Preaching,

It’s been another hectic week – probably my new normal! – and another late post, so I’ll keep this relatively short. But goodness, I felt my spirits lift immensely when I read this line from Paul to the faith community in Rome: “For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption.”

Not a spirit of fear, but one of adoption. And I understand a “spirit of adoption” to mean the confidence and courage that comes from knowing that you have been chosen, accepted, and loved for who you are.

Not fear, but courage.

I think part of why this struck me so forcefully this week is because there is so much fear in the air these days. The fear being stoked by political candidates who know they can count on our votes if they first create a sense of fear and panic and then offer themselves as the remedy. The fear of job loss for those left behind by a rather anemic recovery. The fear of losing a loved one. The fear of dealing with pain absent meds, or the fear of getting hooked on prescription opioids.

There is a lot of fear going around these days. And when you are caught up in it, it’s hard to see or feel anything different. I know a bit about that kind of anxiety and fear. While our effort to unify the Philadelphia and Gettysburg Lutheran seminaries is going very well on so many fronts, the understandable anxiety on campus about loss of status, income, and identity is at times so pervasive that it’s easy to lose sight of the hopeful end toward which we are striving and give in to the crippling effects of fear.

Perhaps you’ve felt this fear, too. Fear of not making budget. Fear that if you take a particular stance, people will leave. Fear that no matter how hard you work, your parish simply will not grow.

Fear. There’s a lot of it going around these days.

Which is why Paul’s words are so powerful and necessary to hear. “For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.”

This, in a nutshell, is the work of the Holy Spirit – to come along side us in times of anxiety and remind us that because we are God’s children, we do not have to give in to fear. Actually, Paul goes a little further. We are not only children, but heirs of God, those destined to inherit all good things. And if that’s not enough, we are not only heirs in general but co-heirs with Christ. Co-heirs! Those God has called worthy to receive all the inheritance and merit and reward and favor that Christ is accorded and deserves. My goodness, but when you’re loved that fiercely, even fear can’t keep you down.

And it’s not just the letter to the Romans. The Acts story depicts a group of believers who had everything to fear and, indeed, had been nearly crippled by fear earlier. And yet on Pentecost they receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, a Spirit that encourages and equips them to go out into the marketplace and witness to their faith in Christ. In doing so, they risk not simply having people think they were drunk, but perhaps also treasonous, deserving of the crucifixion that their leader had suffered. Yet emboldened by the Spirit, they find the courage not simply to resist fear, but actually to step our in confidence and joy.

John testifies to much the same. Philip’s question to Jesus is motivated by anxiety. Understandable anxiety, we should note. This is, after all, the night before Jesus’ crucifixion in John’s story, and Jesus has just told his disciples that he would be leaving them. And so Philip is worried, anxious, perhaps afraid. And so he says, “Lord, just show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Now, we are so used to referring to God in parental terms that it may be hard for us to realize the audacity of Philip’s request. Keep in mind that God was considered so awesome, so wholly and completely other from humanity, that pious Jews like Philip wouldn’t even speak the divine name of God aloud, and yet in this scene Philip is asking to see God. Why? Because he’s afraid and wants comfort and assurance and security.

Instead of certainty, Jesus offers Philip himself: “Whoever has seen me, has seen the Father.” Jesus comes in order that we might know that God is love, that God’s love is big enough for everything and the whole world, and that God loved God’s people and world so much that God would go to any length – even to the point of dying alone on the cross – so that we would know God’s love, perceive how much God loves us, and be emboldened to live with courage and hope. And it’s the work of the Holy Spirit to come along side of us whenever we are tempted to forget these things and root us again in this confidence.

“You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption.” Perhaps our task this week, Dear Partner, is to celebrate and give thanks for the gift of the Holy Spirit, the One who came and continues to come to remind us of God’s love for us in Jesus, the One who comes amid all kinds of fears to remind us that the future is in God’s hands, the One that calls us out of our places of fear – even and especially when it’s real, understandable fear – in order to serve others in love, courage, and hope.

And let’s not stop here. Maybe we could invite folks to write down one fear on a card and pass it in and then share those cards among the staff (or perhaps the whole parish) to pray for those fears and for a spirit of courage. Because the Spirit loves to work with and through our community! Or maybe we can print up cards with St. Paul’s words and invite people to carry that card with them. The singular phrase across Scripture that is always the harbinger of good news, after all, is as short and sweet now as it was when announced to Mary, and the disciples, and the Christians in Rome: Do not fear!

This is our calling, Dear Partner, to bless our people with a spirit of courage, a spirit of adoption, a spirit of the living Christ. It is such a necessary word, more so now than ever, and I am so grateful to you for sharing it.

Yours in Christ,
David