God has always been about the business of transforming what is into what can be. From Moses’ encounter with God in the burning bush that sent him to Egypt to free a captive people, to the prophets’ sense of God which led them to call for social, political and religious reforms, to Jesus’ radical understanding of an intimate, all-inclusive God, to the writer of Revelation declaring that God makes all things new, the history of human faith development is filled with examples of fresh, new insights and expanding awareness leading to a transformed reality.

The writer of the book of Acts seeks to capture one such moment of transformation when he tells the story of the day of Pentecost. Jesus is gone. The disciples have remained largely a small, closed community. And suddenly something new breaks into their world. They become aware of God’s Spirit in a powerful new way and that awareness transforms them and the world around them by breaking down the walls and eliminating the barriers which kept them isolated. The second chapter of Acts is filled with dramatic images which speak to us of change and transformation. There is wind and fire and the cacophony of a variety of languages being spoken at once. Something new is happening and it simply is not possible to continue on in the same old ways. Wind and fire are both powerful forces. They are not completely safe and they are not completely controllable. As images of God’s activity among us they are both disturbing and exciting. Our old, tired routines will not endure, but at the same time something dramatic and compelling is emerging.

At the end of the book of Revelation we find the image of the new Jerusalem and God declaring that all things are made new. The old has passed away and the new is upon us. As with the images found in Acts, this is both disturbing and exciting, fearful and hopeful. We do not usually enjoy having our nice, safe, comfortable world shaken and disrupted. But true transformation cannot take place while at the same time everything remains the same. When faith becomes static it is in danger of becoming stagnant. To remain vibrant and relevant, it is important that we always remain open to the possibilities of growth and change. God is still about the business of transforming what is into what can be.

Today we in the Church must continue to be open to the leading of God’s Spirit as we seek to live into our faith. If we are to remain vital we must continue to ask questions and not shrink back from where the answers lead us. Where are our blind spots? Where are we still in need of transformation? Where is the growing edge that will take us further up the path towards God? If you have been listening to my sermons over the past several months, you will probably not be surprised to hear that I believe one of the places such questions needs to lead us is towards a very serious look at the language, the images and the symbols we use to describe, discuss and share our faith. There are people in our world today (I’m discovering more of them all the time) who cannot hear the Good News of God’s love when we try to share it with them because the language and images we use are simply too painful and exclusive. I recently sat with a woman while she cried as she tried to share with me the depth of her pain at the exclusive use of male-gender language in reference to God. “Where am I, as a woman, honored and visible and recognized and valued if God is exclusively male?” she asked through her tears. If there is any lesson to be learned from the Pentecost story in Acts, it is that sometimes sharing the Good News requires changing our ways. It isn’t about whether or not it bothers us. When it is a barrier for others then it is time for us to do things differently. The God who speaks in Revelation makes all things new so that the pain and tears associated with the former ways might come to an end.

I recognize that what I am proposing can be both uncomfortable and difficult. Even those of us who consider ourselves liberal and progressive often find comfort in the phrase, “We’ve always done it this way.” This is not something that I come to lightly. But I see more and more pain in the world, and increasingly I am becoming aware that some of the old ways of understanding and expressing the Christian faith are contributing to that pain rather than healing it. God’s love and presence as we see it revealed in and through the life and teachings of Jesus is all-encompassing and all-inclusive. Therefore, the language and images and symbols we use to express our faith must be flexible enough to overcome barriers to understanding whenever and wherever we become aware of them. None of this will happen overnight. It took us 2,000 years and more to get to where we now find ourselves. Some of the language and images are deeply and firmly entrenched in everything from the hymns we sing to the traditional words we use around the communion table. For many people this holds the potential of being extremely threatening and disorienting. But I remain convinced that it is a process we must begin to undertake if we are to remain relevant. In the end, there will be some things we will be able to reclaim and there will be some things that we will need to let go of. But always it will be important to remain focused on the God who surrounds us and the world with love and is always seeking to transform our brokenness into a new wholeness, even when we don’t yet recognize that it is broken.

So, after the wind and the fire of God’s transforming Spirit sweeps through us, what next? We might begin by simply raising the level of our awareness. Listen to the words you use to talk about God. Look at the titles for God which are used in our hymns. Become aware of the language of your prayers. As we begin to recognize just how heavily skewed our language and images are in terms of male-gender (God as always he or Father or Lord) and hierarchical (Lord or King) and judgmental (sinner or guilty), coupled with an awareness of the pain that such language inflicts on others, we are much more likely to find the motivation to begin changing. And if it truly is the wind of God’s Spirit blowing in us and through us, then we do not need to do it all by ourselves. We simply need to be open to new possibilities and new models for being church together.

What will all of this look like? To be honest, I don’t know yet. At least not completely. But I know it will mean being sensitive to the needs of others. I know that it will mean being open to the leading of God’s Spirit. I know that will involve trying new things -- new ways of talking, new ways of thinking, new ways of sharing what is important to us. I know it will involve courage and trust, both in God and in each other. Beyond that, it might mean being more deliberate and intentional about the language we use, in prayers and readings, being careful to use a variety of images when we talk about God. It might mean changing some of the language in some of our hymns. It will require creativity and patience and the willingness to continue talking to each and listening to each other.

As I said, I don’t know for sure where all of this might take us, but I am confident that we will get there together if we continue to look for the presence of God’s transforming Spirit in the midst of us. May we continue to discover fresh new ways of sharing God’s love after the wind and the fire.