SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER
Acts 8:5-8.14-17; 1 Peter 3:15-18; John 14:15-21
In two weeks the Church will sing again:
Come, Holy Spirit.
We know the story of Pentecost.
Wind. Fire. Boldness. A new language for the mighty works of God.
We know, too, that the Spirit was given to us.
And yet many of us wonder:
Did anything happen?
No wind. No fire. No trembling earth. Only a church, a ritual, a memory that feels distant.
So we stand, perhaps, not far from the Samaritans:
baptized in the name of Jesus, and still asking whether the Spirit has truly fallen upon us.
Come, Holy Ghost, send down those beams, which sweetly flow in silent streams from Thy bright throne above.
The Spirit does not always come with noise.
Sometimes He comes like light in a dark room. Like water on dry ground. Like strength that was not there before. Like the quiet beginning of a new heart.
O Thou, of comforters the best, O Thou, the soul’s delightful guest, the pilgrim’s sweet relief.
Without Him, faith becomes duty. Prayer becomes dry. The commandments become heavy. The Christian life becomes effort without fire.
But where the Spirit is, there is love, peace, courage, and the freedom to say with the whole heart:
Jesus is Lord.
O blessed Light of life Thou art; fill with Thy light the inmost heart of those who hope in Thee.
What, then, must we do?
We must begin where all true prayer begins:
with desire.
With poverty. With hunger. With the confession that something is missing, that no success, no comfort, no distraction can fill the emptiness within us.
The Spirit is not given to the self-satisfied.
He is given to the thirsty.
Lord, wash our sinful stains away, refresh from heaven our barren clay, our wounds and bruises heal.
There comes a moment when a person knows:
I cannot renew myself. I cannot save myself. I cannot make my own heart alive.
And that moment, painful as it is, may already be grace.
For when we reach the end of our own strength, we begin to make room for the Gift.
Warm with Thy fire our hearts of snow, our wandering feet recall.
That is why the Church sings this hymn.
Not as ornament. Not as poetry alone. But as truth.
We need the Holy Spirit.
We long for Him.
Only He can recreate us.
Grant us in life Thy grace that we, in peace may die and ever be, in joy before Thy face. Amen. Alleluia.
Scripture Attribution
New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993
the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of
Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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© 2025 Krakus.
Licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0 (Creative Commons Attribution–NonCommercial).