I have never known an Easter like the one we just experienced. For years now, I have wanted my following of Jesus to become less “sit and learn” and more “taste and see.”

Friends, I dunno if I knew what I was asking the Almighty for. I’m exhausted.

In the last month, I’ve been resting, recovering, and unpacking the Holy Week that just happened. I followed Jesus step by step.

On Palm Sunday, I cried out for His salvation.

On Monday, I wept over the city with Him.

Tuesday, I prepared a place to feast.

Wednesday, I crammed with friends around a table, we took the bread broken for us, drank the wine poured out for us.

Maundy Thursday, I began to grieve. “Lord, You will never wash my feet!” “I am willing to die for you!” “Love each other as I have loved You.”

Friday, I fell at the foot of the Cross, knowing there was only One who reverses the death within me.

Saturday I waited.

Sunday, I celebrated with hundreds of believers in Portland. We sang and we feasted and we took in all the joy.

Then all was quiet.

Celebrating the ancient holidays with the global Church has been sweet to my soul, and according to the Church calendar, Easter is not the end. Ahead of us is the ever-illusive and highly contested “Pentecost.”

Called “The Feast of Weeks” in Leviticus 23, this feast is 50 days after Passover, and Divinely coincided with God sending the Holy Spirit on the Church in Acts 2.

A new holiday, a new church season, something to catch me after the Easter exhaustion? I was delighted. Imagine, if you will, my horror upon discovering that this season is not one of fasting or feasting, not one of sack cloth or Sunday best.

Pentecost is a season of waiting.

Gross. I hate waiting. There’s a whole fifty-day season for that? Pass.

That faint scream you heard the day after Easter? That was me, sitting before the Lord, resisting His goodness.

Because these fifty days are for waiting.

They are for breakfast on the beach (John 21:15-19) and long walks to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35).

They are for opening the Scriptures and seeing Jesus where we never saw Him before.

They are for hearing the laughter in His voice as He explains to us all things concerning Himself (Luke 24:27).

They are for wrapping your mind around the concept of resurrection, while the vivid memory of the cross still churns your gut (Mark 16:8).

They are deep enough for the shame-suffering disciple to declare, “You know that I love You!” (John 21:17) and they are long enough for the doubting disciple to run their hands along His scars (Luke 20:24-29).

They for the hundreds of untold, lynchpin encounters with the risen Christ (1 Corinthians 15:3-8).

They are for the dead-pan humor of the angels, asking, “Why are you still standing here?” (Acts 1:10-11).

They are for community, they are for meals, they are for prayer, they are for worship, and they are for soft smoke rising in upper rooms (Acts 2).

We do not wait for God to send His Spirit, for that same Spirit lives in us.

The same Spirit who hovered over the waters/

who dwells in perfect love with the Father and the Son/

who rolled like thunder clouds over the prophets/

who leaned down to comfort the weeping psalmists/

who filled the tomb on resurrection Sunday/

who fell like fire at Pentecost/

lives in me….lives in you, and He is not finished.

Maybe you, like me, have falsely believed that God and His Spirit require our efforts, more saving, more doing.

That is not the motto of the Kingdom. (However, I did just realize that it is the motto of the Home Depot, please don’t sue me.)

The movement of the Spirit in the Scriptures and in the pages of Church history falls upon a group of people who are watching, praying, and…yes, waiting.

Every year that I am alive, I realize that “rest” and “wait” are actions. I like movement, I like control, I like planning and goal-setting.

And none of these will bring the kingdom of God to earth.

In our culture of noise and chaos, it is an act of holy defiance to wait on the Spirit of God.

So watch and pray with me, my friends. For we shall hear the voice of God in that silence.

Pentecost Sunday is May 28th, and until then, I watch and pray…

Come, Holy Spirit.
Do what You did at first.
Hover over the chaos.
I want to see Jesus.
I want to know the Father’s love.
So here I wait.
Come, Holy Spirit.