"Spirit-less"
Dr. George Sinclair
Isa. 43: 1-7; Acts 8:14-17; Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
January 10, 2010
How do you know you have the Spirit? Can you have just a little bit of Spirit? Or, when it comes to the Holy Spirit, is it all or nothing? You either have the Spirit or you don’t? And how do you know? What does it look like or feel like when somebody’s got the Spirit? At the baptism of Jesus, the Holy Spirit descends in “bodily form like a dove” not a bird but like one. Jesus had the Spirit. It was plain to see. But with us, how do you know? Is it like Gatorade? When it’s in you do you sweat the Holy Spirit—orange, violet, and green? How do you know when you’ve got the Holy Spirit?
I’m fascinated by this question. When I was 18, I encountered Pentecostals for the first time. The Pentecostals were big on the Spirit. The Presbyterian church of my youth didn’t talk much about the Holy Spirit. We talked about the Father and the Son, but we didn’t talk about the Spirit. One Sunday, on the way home from church, we heard a funny sounding preacher on the radio and I asked my dad about him. He called him a “holy roller” and said preachers like him appealed mostly to people who worked in textile mills. Well, it wasn’t too many years after that that I actually met some “holy rollers” and they looked a whole lot like everybody else I knew—long hair, bell bottoms. They took physics and history and chemistry. They were educated and not poor at all—regular college kids, except like that radio preacher, they spoke in tongues and believed in healing and peppered their conversations with expressions like: “The Lord told me.” or “The Lord laid it on my heart.”
“The Lord” seemed to lay a lot of things on the Pentecostals’ hearts. They also “Praised the Lord” a lot. And they were mightily concerned with Satan. Satan was everywhere and always up to no good. Of course, the end of the world was also coming—anytime. You didn’t want Jesus to return on an off day, so you were always ready.
The charismatics I knew in college were clear; they were absolutely emphatic when it came to the Holy Spirit. They knew who had the Holy Spirit and who didn’t. Anybody who didn’t speak in tongues, anybody who had not been healed or who didn’t pray for healing, anybody who didn’t worry about Satan or the end of the world was not Spirit-filled. They were Spirit-less, baptized maybe, but not Spirit-filled.
One day I got into an argument with the crew chief of my college Bible Study. I had been going to his Bible study and prayer meeting for three or four months and thought it pretty powerful stuff. These folks took their faith seriously. Up until then, my own faith was mostly on the outside. I had grown up in the church but my faith wasn’t really “in” me. I’ll give the Pentecostals credit for helping me see that faith wasn’t just a Sunday thing—faith was an everyday, all-of-the-time-thing.
The charismatics also got me to read the Bible. I had never read the Bible. The charismatics stressed Bible study, so I started reading the Bible. As it turned out, Bible reading was the thing that got me crossed up with their crew chief.
The charismatics were real big on spiritual gifts—speaking in tongues, interpretation of tongues, prophesy, gifts of healing, discernment and so forth. They loved Paul’s first letter to the church at Corinth. The way they read Paul, you got the idea that spiritual gifts were scored like the Olympics—Speaking in Tongues 9.9; Interpreting Tongues 9.8; Healing 9.5.
The charismatics were all over 1Corinthians. They loved talking about spiritual gifts. Anyway, one day I stumbled across Galatians where Paul lists fruits of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self control.” And I’m thinking, “fruits of the Spirit—gifts of the Spirit, they can’t be any different. There’s only one Spirit.” So I asked the crew chief: “What about these? Sounds to me like a Christian who is patient or kind or generous has the Spirit?”
“Oh no, grasshopper. You are quite mistaken. The Apostle Paul makes a clear distinction between fruits of the Spirit and gifts of the Spirit. Gifts of the Spirit are much different, a higher order. You are quite wrong.”
For me, that was it. I couldn’t, and to this day I don’t see how spiritual exercise trumps how we treat other human beings. So I left the Pentecostals. Though I left, the conversation over matters spiritual did not end. It moved on or changed forms.
Over the years, I’ve heard people say things like, “Well, she’s just not very spiritual.” Or, “He’s just not that into church.” Have you ever heard that? “So and so has their name on the roll, but that’s about it. You never see them in church. Oh, they come at Christmas and Easter, but they’re just not very spiritual. They don’t volunteer. They don’t teach Sunday school. Church is not very important to them.”
It’s not unusual to hear these kinds of things. Our tests may differ from Pentecostals, but we have spiritual guidelines. We may not draw them so sharply and we may grade on a curve, but we still possess some markers of what makes a Christian “spiritual.” We score some Christians more “spiritual” than others, some less “spiritual,” and still others Spirit-less.
Here’s the rub and it’s a major one. From the Bible’s perspective, you can’t be a Christian unless, and until, you have the Spirit. Anyone who professes faith in Christ has the Spirit. If you believe in Jesus, you’ve got the Spirit. Paul put it this way, which is about as plain as it can be put, “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Spirit.” Faith is a gift of the Spirit. The Spirit creates faith. If we believe, we believe as a result of the Spirit. So if that’s true, how can we talk about spiritual Christians, much less Spirit-less ones? To answer that question, I want to walk with you through Luke’s fascinating story in the 8th chapter of Acts, which some have termed the Samaritan Pentecost.
Luke begins his story in Jerusalem—headquarters for the early church. Paul is breathing down threats. This is before Paul’s conversion. He’s an arch enemy of the church, going house to house, dragging people to prison. It’s a bad scene. The church is in disarray. Members, including Philip, a Greek speaking Jewish Christian—one of the seven appointed to take care of the poor, are running for their lives. Philip leaves Jerusalem for Samaria.
Now Samaritans weren’t quite Jews and they weren’t quite Gentiles. They worshipped the same God, but not in the same Temple. Moreover, and more importantly from a Jewish perspective, Samaritans were half-breeds; they were, well, they were outsiders. That is precisely where Philip heads. He goes straight for the Samaritans. Philip takes his mission to the outcasts and he is a huge success. The Samaritans embrace the gospel. They listen. People are delivered from demon possession, the lame are cured. “There was great joy in that city.”
Bear in mind this is the first mission beyond Jerusalem. This is the first mission to non-Jews. From Luke’s perspective, this is a really big deal. The Jewish Pentecost happens five chapters earlier—you know that day when the Holy Spirit is poured out on the Jews in Jerusalem, Jews from every corner of the known world. They get the Spirit on the Day of Pentecost. Pentecost came fifty days after Passover and celebrated the giving of the law. It was on this day, Luke says, that God poured out his Spirit on Jews, living in Jerusalem, who believed in Jesus.
Now the scene has changed. Mission has moved from Jerusalem to Samaria. Philip preaches and people are converted. They’re won in big numbers. Even Simon the Magician, Simon the Great, a pagan if there ever was one, even Simon converts and shadows Philip like a new puppy. It’s a great day, a day of joy in Samaria. Folks believe and are baptized.
In time, Philip’s joyful news reaches Jerusalem. And what does Jerusalem do? Jerusalem has a meeting, must have been a committee meeting because that’s what churches do. Headquarters votes to send Peter and John to Samaria. The report was that the Samaritans had “accepted the word of God” so Peter and John are sent to check it out.
Now it may be coincidence, but I think it curious that John draws the short straw for Samaria. In the gospel story, James and John regularly appear with Peter. So it’s natural that Luke pairs John with Peter for this trip, but I’ve got a hunch something else is going on. Remember, it was John, along with his brother James, who wanted to call down fire from heaven and destroy the Samaritan village that rejected Jesus. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and when he passes through the village, the villagers don’t “receive” Jesus. James and John volunteer to call in an “air strike.” Jesus says no and tags the brothers with the name Boanerges, or Sons of Thunder.
I don’t think it’s coincidence that John gets picked for the mission to Samaria. God has a wonderful sense of humor for things like this. God loves irony.
So, Peter and the Thunder Brother go to Samaria, dreaded Samaria, land of half-breeds. When they arrive they discover that the reports are true. The Samaritans have not only “accepted the word of God,” they’ve been baptized. The Samaritans are in. They are believers—full fledged followers. But, but they don’t have the Spirit. Here’s how Luke puts it and his grammatical construction is important: “For as yet the Spirit had not come upon any of them.”
“For as yet . . .” How did Peter and John know? How did they know the Spirit had as yet to “come upon any of them?” Luke underscores the fact that the Samaritans were baptized, that was not in question. How did they know the Spirit had not yet visited them? What was missing? Jesus got the bird. The disciples got flames. What didn’t the Samaritans get—no bird, no flame?
So, I’m wondering, is there something to Spirit-less Christianity? Is there such a thing—a Christian without the Holy Spirit. Maybe Spirit-less Christians are just going through the motions, you know, saying their prayers, doing the right thing, even showing up for church but without much passion, excitement, depth of feeling. Perhaps Spirit-less Christians hold the outward form of religion but steel their hearts. They hold back. They don’t go for broke. Is that what Peter and John witnessed among the Samaritans, a lack of enthusiasm? Or was it something else?
Maybe the Samaritans didn’t get along with each other. Maybe they lacked compassion; you know, fellowship was at best, mediocre? Or maybe it was worship. Maybe their worship was lackluster—colorless singing, poor preaching—folks going through the motions. Or maybe the Samaritans had one too many hypocrites.
The fact is, Luke doesn’t say. He doesn’t list the first thing we typically identify with Spirit-less Christianity. So, I’m kind of confused. More to the point, when Luke says the Samaritans finally get the Spirit, he doesn’t say “boo” about what they get. There are no tongues of fire; no bird, no nothing, no fruits of the Spirit or gifts of the Spirit, nothing, which makes me think Luke had another point altogether.
I think Luke has absolutely zero interest in Spiritual Olympics much less in spiritual gymnastics. Luke’s not into scoring spiritual verses non-spiritual Christians. Luke’s after one thing: God creates the church. Samaritans, those beyond tribe and clan, well; they’re just as much a part of God’s family as the Jew. The Samaritans got the same Holy Spirit that the Jewish disciples got on the Day of Pentecost. That’s Luke’s message. The gap between when the Samaritans are baptized and when they get the Spirit is no different than the gap between when Jewish Christians are baptized and the Day of Pentecost. The gap is not proof of second class Christianity. The gap points to Luke’s claim: The Samaritans are no less God’s people than the Jews who accept Christ. And John, dear John, the Thunder Brother gets to bear that glad news. He toasts the Samaritans but not as he once expected. They have the Spirit.
So, what does that have to do with us? Just this: there are no Spirit-less Christians. We don’t get to decide who has the Spirit and who doesn’t. The Spirit doesn’t work when, where, or how we say. The Spirit is free. God works beyond what we see or measure or count as spiritual particularly among those who are not in our tribe or clan. The Spirit, as Simon found out, is not for sale and can’t be bought, which does not mean Christians can’t or don’t sometimes lack enthusiasm or sensitivity or fellowship or vital worship or moral values like kindness, patience, and other treasured fruits.
Yes, we can ignore the Spirit. We can suppress the Spirit. That is quite true and not only true but tragic. It is tragic because in giving us his Spirit, God gives himself, as close as our breath—that’s how close and vital God is—as near as our breath, as vital as our breathing, without which we cannot live. God wants us to be fully alive, as on the first day of creation, which is why he pours out his Spirit on all flesh—not on a few but all flesh, so that all might have life and have it abundantly. Breathe deeply and be fully alive. Live in the Spirit. Amen.