by Joanie Butman
When I was taught about the Trinity, the Holy Spirit was referred to as the Holy Ghost. I slipped back into that terminology recently during pre-dinner prayers, and my grown children laughed out loud. It does seem comical now, but in my youth it was downright scary. Even if the Holy Spirit turned out to resemble Casper the Friendly Ghost when He appeared, I still would have soiled the clean underwear my mother was so adamant about me wearing just in case. In case of what? Christ’s second coming? Somehow, I think the state of my soul would be more concerning to Him.
Today is Pentecost Sunday, marking the arrival of the Helper Jesus promised before His departure. Personally, the third person of the Trinity is the hardest for me to understand and wrap my head around. Maybe because I’m not supposed to. He needs to be experienced, and even then it’s still difficult to describe to others. The advocate Jesus promised may have been more obvious to the disciples because they were eagerly awaiting Him and were given the ability to speak in a multitude of languages when He arrived: “All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them” (Acts 2:4).
Brooklynese is still the only language I speak, but the Holy Spirit has filled me with strength, courage, endurance, comfort and guidance repeatedly. I don’t share my Holy Spirit moments with many because they get diminished in the telling and usually elicit a lot of eye rolling. Regardless, when they come I’ve learned to recognize them. That said, experiencing a Divine moment has never changed my circumstances. The path of God’s choosing is seldom the easy one but somehow ultimately seems like it when you finally surrender to His will. Whatever (or whomever) had brought me to my knees remained, but knowing I was not alone in my struggle made all the difference. It enabled me to have peace amidst chaos, love amidst turmoil, clarity amidst confusion, courage amidst fear.
I’ve come a long way from that little girl who feared ghosts and am always on the lookout for the Holy Spirit in whatever form He chooses to take. After having my share of Divine moments, I can now assure my mom that in all my dealings with the Divine He’s never inquired as to my laundry habits. While Pentecost Sunday celebrates the Holy Spirit’s arrival, His continued presence deserves celebration every day. Choose to believe that His power is available to all who seek it. What are you struggling with? Why not choose to rely on God’s counselor, comforter, helper – the Spirit of truth, something this world desperately needs.
Choose wisely!