Pentecost

Pentecost Sunday, observed tomorrow, marks the close of the 50 day Easter season on the church calendar. I’m grateful for this observance and the rhythm of seasons.

Allow me to share a prayer…

Come Holy Spirit
Come as a cleansing wind
Come as a fire and burn
Come as a light and shine
Come into my heart
Convict and convert
Until I am wholly Thine.

…and a poem entitled, A Man from Phrygia, on Pentecost by Madeleine L’Engle

Lord, I did not choose to be comforted.
I am not ready to bear the many things
you have yet to say: you said it yourself.
But you have sent me (against my will) your comforter
And what is comfort but an iron command?

I don’t want to obey. I won’t. Yes: I will.
Why must I interrupt my self-indulgent weakness
to respond to the austerity of your demand?
I must set my face sternly towards truth
as you turned toward Jerusalem, that all
obedience should be shown us and accomplished.
Your way to truth is hard, is dark, is pain.
You have shown me the way, O Lord, but I
am not prepared to bear your comfort.
And yet, unwilling, unready, recalcitrant,
I receive the flaming thrust that you have sent,
And voices speaking as in my own tongue,
And nothing will ever be the same again.