Dear God: Thank You for the Pentecost

Dear God,

Thank you for the Pentecost, for the coming of the Holy Spirit. It is a good time for me to read the message of hope in the Gospel of John (20:19-23):

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you." When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

I'm in great need of the Holy Spirit lately, of the peace that Jesus promises, even if this third person of the trinity seems a bit lame in comparison to one and two. I mean, there's Jesus with all of his miracles and heroic tales. He did free us from our sin. Or so you say, God. There's the Creator, You, who made the oceans and seven continents. That's a tough act to follow. It's no wonder people always forget about the Spirit.

In second grade, a priest explained the concept of the Holy Spirit to us this way. He sat down in one chair. And a second-grader-teacher's-pet-type sat down in the chair across from him.

"Imagine that I'm the father. And this here [pointing to the goody-two-shoes kid] is my son. If we begin to talk to each other, the conversation between us would be the Holy Spirit." I wish my theology professors had explained the Holy Trinity in those terms because my papers in grad school would have been much easier to write.

I've often thought of that analogy as I'm sitting in a support group with a cup of really bad coffee, and someone across the room says something that brings me a sense of peace, or alerts me to something I need to confront, or makes me feel less alone. The dove or whatever form the Holy Spirit takes--much like the Wonder Twins superheroes-- descends and drops little scarlet and golden bulbs of fire over our heads as it did on the disciples at the Pentecost that empower us to do the difficult thing that we don't want to do, but that will ultimately bring us health and sanity.

Every day that I read the comments on Beyond Blue and exchange e-mails with fellow depressives, I experience a Pentecost moment: a holy exchange of sorts that confirms for me that Jesus really did mean it when he said, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (Matt. 18:20). Or, as Martin Buber put it, “When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them.”

I mean, how can you not think God is involved when you read comments like the following:

“To know that one is not alone in feeling depressed, futile and tortured is somewhat enlightening.” –Lynne

“Very strange that two people who don’t know each other can help one another in such a big way.” –Aarti

“Membership in this club to which we all unwillingly belong isn’t something I would wish on anyone; nonetheless, reading how others have survived specific circumstances has given me hope where I’d lost sight of it and inspired me to keep on keepin’ on even when my feet feel as if they’re encased in buckets of cement and will pull me under the stagnant water in the bottom of the pit (the resident snakes are undoubtedly water dwellers!).” --Margaret

“I can totally relate to the closeness that one can feel with people we ‘hardly’ know. And I am convinced that God matches us up. How else can we explain the right person (consoling, understanding) being in the right place at the right time?” –Jacqui

So, thank you for this third person of the trinity, for the peace and the hope of the Pentecost for this very anxious soul.