I Often Stop a Step Too Soon

Today is Pentecost Sunday, and I’m reminded again how often I stop the Jesus story at the Ascension. It’s not intentional—maybe it just feels like a natural end point: the cross, the resurrection, the risen Christ ascending into heaven. But it’s not the end. Pentecost must not be left out.

Jesus promised a Helper. Not a ghostly force, not a fog machine or mystical mist. A person. The Spirit. I have to remind myself of that—He’s personal. He reminds us of what Jesus said, convicts, empowers, seals, comforts. He’s not an accessory to the faith—He is the engine. Without Pentecost, we’d be stuck—waiting, wondering, powerless. But with the Spirit, this stretch of time between the ascension and Christ’s return becomes the most fruitful season of sanctification in history. It’s not an idle time. It’s a harvest time.

Something else that struck me this year: 50 days. We tend to think biblically in 7’s and 40’s—seven days of creation, forty days in the wilderness, forty days of rain, etc. But Pentecost comes 50 days after Easter. Fifty feels different. It’s less predictable. It’s like the wind—you don’t know when the breeze will come. That’s been my experience with the Spirit too. Fires blaze and ebb. Winds gust and still. Oceans surge and calm. The pace and rhythm of God is His own.

And yet—like Joel prophesied and Peter quoted—I still ask: breathe on us again. Breathe on my family. I want my children and grandchildren to know this living Word, to see God’s glory shine, to feel the Spirit move through the gospel like wind through trees. I don’t want to just teach about Him—I want to walk with Him. Wait for Him. Be surprised by Him.

So I won’t end the story too soon. Pentecost matters. He is here.

Song: Do It Again (Joel 2/ Acts 2)