On this Pentecost Sunday, my pastor preached on Acts 1:8, a verse I just spent a lot time playing with as I watched Shanna Noel’s Process Video. On this Pentecost Sunday, our minister reminded us of the story of our church, which was founded in the 1700s. I live in a town called Chambersburg, and Colonel Chambers, the first European settler to the area, leased the land to our church for the price of one rose per year; our church still pays one rose each year to a member of his family. The ceremony took place today.
Our pastor spoke of how the church was founded in the frontier days, when survival was in a matter of question, shared how our church survived the burning of Chambersburg during the Civil War, and was sustained through two World Wars and the great depression. He reminded us that the Holy Spirit has been guiding us and sustaining us as a congregation for centuries and offered us the assurance that the Holy Spirit is still at work.
It helps to hear this long-term perspective from time-to-time. We sang the Hymn “I Love to Tell the Story.” The sweet, old hymn talks of telling the story to those who haven’t heard it, which is how I often think of witnessing. The song also reminded me that those who know the story best still hunger and thirst to hear it, too. We are called to be witnesses in all kinds of circumstances, and I think we receive the story ourselves in new ways as life presents us with challenges and new situations. Despite what the song says, the story never really gets old!
I came home and did the page in my Bible that I practiced on paper last week. Happy Pentecost!