This is another poem I wrote in 2001. It was a prolific year. Together with a friend, we compiled a little booklet entitled The Christian Year – no longer in print – but I have posted much of its contents on this blog. I have saved this poem for this weekend – Pentecost – and as I read it through this morning, I marvelled again that, even now, God can change our fear into praise. The Helper is here with us still, awaiting the return of Christ. He is just as available to you and me as He was present on that day in the Upper Room to the Disciples. Do you know Him? Have you asked for His help in the situations you are facing today? He is ready to help, for He was sent by the Father, at the Son’s request, especially for you. May you be aware of His presence with you as you read this poem. God bless you this weekend as you commemmorate the day we call Pentecost.
The room at the top of the house is so quiet
Though crowded with people who sit still, in grief.
For a few glorious days they’d been happy and laughing
They’d been with their Saviour – but those days were brief.
For Jesus had come back in triumph from dying;
Had proved to them all He was just what He said –
The true Son of God, ever powerful, victorious
But now – well, He could just as well still be dead.
But look there my friend, just a little bit closer,
Were we wrong in thinking these people were grieving?
There’s a sense of expectancy, joy and excitement –
They’re all waiting here – see – nobody’s leaving.
But how can this be for each one saw Jesus
Rise up from the hillside in glorious light,
Leaving them standing there, awed and bewildered,
Watching Him till He had gone out of sight.
But wait, there is somebody speaking – let’s listen –
It’s Martha – a lady whom Jesus held dear.
‘I don’t understand it,’ she’s saying, ‘He promised,
He’d send us His Helper to strengthen us here,
So we could spread wide all His message of loving
And here we are, hiding, in this upper room,
Waiting and waiting for something to happen;
It’s worse than the morning we went to the tomb.’
‘But remember,’ said someone, ‘just how that day ended.’
And as he was speaking a sound could be heard
A breathing, a sighing, a whisper of nothing,
The beat of a wing from a gentle young bird.
A movement of airwaves, a flutter of dresses,
The tremble of leaves and the beat of a sail;
The rising of waves on the shores of the river,
The squall of a storm and the howl of the gale.
Yet strangely now, no-one appears to be frightened.
There’s a spirit of triumph, a great shining glow
That settles on each of the folk who are praising
Their Father in Heaven for this awesome show.
On each shining face there’s a glow as from fire,
A flaming of Spirit in each one that meant
A growing in faith, a flowering of power
For this is the Helper that Jesus has sent.
And now all the people are dancing and praising,
Hugging each other and laughing in love
Singing and dancing they’re leaving their shelter
To tell the whole world of the Lord God above.
Now let us listen to all of them speaking,
Talking in every known language to man,
Preaching of love and the power that is given
Speaking of Christ and how all this began.
This marvellous love that they feel for each other,
This willingness now to speak of their Friend.
So that’s why they were sitting in tangible silence
To wait for this Gift the Lord Jesus would send.
There’s no silence now – just a joy in their preaching,
Speaking of Jesus and what He has done
For these simple folk – and what He is doing
In my own life too, for He’s truly God’s Son.
And I can rejoice with these fishers of people,
These everyday folk who respond to His call,
For I feel the Spirit move deeply inside me
Please join us my friend and give Him your all.