The Pentecost Diaries: Renewed

Jesus' promises are realised in the most exhilarating and transformative way - and thousands respond.

Chapter 4 of the Pentecost diaries, by Jonathan Vaughan-Davies

Read below, and listen to a recording of the story here: 
 

 
“He makes the clouds His chariot and rides on the wings of the wind.
He makes winds His messengers, flames of fire His servants.”
Psalm 104.4-5
 

The wait for day…
 
There are times when you know there’s a risk… but just have to go anyway.
Places that are too precious to avoid.
Moments too magical to miss… no matter what the cost.
 
“What do you think?” Cleopas had asked me tentatively, “nobody here knows Shavuot like you… do you really think we should go?”
 
It was the evening before the festival began and, as tradition commends, we were staying up all night long and reading Torah together -
The books of Moses.
The story of our people.
The ways of the Yahweh.
 
“I agree with the others,” I said, as confidently as I could sound, “Torah teaches that everyone that is able to should make every effort to go…” I gestured out of the window towards the roof of the temple standing tall over the surrounding houses, “and we’re right here in Jerusalem!”
 
How could we not go?
 
“Plus, we’ve already been going back to the temple courts,” I reminded him, “every single day now we’re all there, praying together.”
 
Since the day we’d watched Jesus miraculously rise up from the mountainside, and ascend right back into the very heavens themselves, a lot of things had started to change. Maybe that physical reminder that He is lifted high all over was the very thing our wounded faith had needed to find its courage once more.
 
“I know… I know.” Cleopas said, his eyes looking out of the open window to gauge how long it would be till the light of day was upon us. He was never one to be quick to make a decision, but that also meant he wasn’t closed to discussion either. “I suppose you’re right,” he said thoughtfully, “we ought to go if we can.”
 
I could understand his caution, but for me the memory of the First Fruits Festival was so special that as much as anything else I just wanted to be there. Alongside the Shavuot offerings laid on the altar, the festival celebrates the giving of another gift: God’s Holy Law. Like a divine seed sown deep in our souls - Torah too produces its own kind of harvest, a spiritual one, for God Himself. Its life grows up of inside us, inspiring and instructing us, giving meaning and worth to all we do, and bringing glory to the God who nourishes and sustains us!
 
“The Day is nearly fully here…” said Peter, who was sat on the other window ledge, looking out over the city, “I think it’s about time we were leaving!”
 


Beneath him the city was gently beginning to wake up and the streets were slowly starting to fill with worshippers and pilgrims flowing out towards the Temple. Though he was keen to get going, I noticed a look of sadness rest across Peter’s face.
 
I stood and wandered over to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me and tried to smile, but when he realised it was me he knew he didn’t need to. We talked a few times about the night when Jesus was arrested. It was in a crowd not unlike this one, on streets not far from here, where he had denied even knowing Jesus… and not once, but three separate times. He and Jesus had spoken about it, and there was no question that Jesus had forgiven Peter – but I wondered if Peter could ever forgive himself.
 
“I just wish I could go back,” he had said to me a few nights ago, “and shake some sense into myself. I am such an idiot. I just wish there was some way to have another chance…”
 
The arrival of so many guests in Jerusalem was another reason for our newfound courage - slipping out into the crowds felt far safer than being exposed alone.
 
Soon we joined their company; our presence invisibly slipping into the streaming masses, our voices blending gently into the babbling joy of those glad to be going to the House of the Lord.
 
 

The House…
 
No matter how many times you approach her gates, or are welcomed in by her ancient doors, the sheer scale and beauty of Temple is just absolutely breathtaking. Everything about her is there to remind you – this is The House of Glory. You can leave your pride outside on the steps – you are entering The House of The Living God.


 
Festival seasons like these, however, are something else again – the volume of people alone is incredibly emotional. The different voices, accents, languages, dialects all flowing together into one excited buzz. “Through you” the Lord had said to Abraham, “all the nations of the world will be blessed!” For me, being carried along in this crowd of Abraham’s children, that ancient promise was clear to see – like a flag of many colours we were woven beautifully together and flowing proudly today for all to see!
 
We may be scattered among the nations, but we are still God’s own people.
 
The sound of the blowing of the shofar horns caused the bubbling hubbub to hush into a holy silence.
 
Anticipation and wonder.
Awe and worship.
 
One of the priests walked solemnly the right side of the altar and opened the Psalter Scroll. Rising his hands high to bless us, he began reading from the 19th Psalm:

“Look - the heavens announce the glory of God! Starry skies exhibit His skilful craftsmanship!
Day after day they silently speak, and night after night their knowledge is made known!
There is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard!
Their message is winged through all the earth, their words to the very ends of the world!”
 
It was a holy moment.
 
The words of heaven and the works of earth standing in alignment in this moment. People gathering here from the ends of the world, carrying with them signs of God’s good creation to be offered back to Him. This year I might not have had a Shavuot basket to carry but I could still feel the same gratefulness that had so often moved father to tears welling up once more inside of me.
 
The priest was still reading:

“Yahweh’s law is perfect, restoring the soul!
Yahweh’s promise is sure, making the simple wise!
Yahweh’s precepts are right, making the heart dance!
Yahweh’s principles are pure, causing the eyes to see!

The fear of Yahweh is immaculate, enduring forever.
Yahweh’s decrees are true, and altogether righteous.
They are more to be desired than gold, - yes, than much pure gold!
Sweeter than honey - yes, than honey from the honeycomb!”
 
The People of the Promise, that’s who we were! My grandmother had taught me that as a child. God Himself had made a covenant with us, a solemn and binding agreement between us: This God will be our God and we will be His people! And the law secured all this, our part of the bargain, our side of the relationship.
 
“And so, may these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart
be a delight to Your eyes, O Yahweh, my Rock, my Redeemer.”
 
By now, the whole crowd was silent.
Still.
 
Over at the other side of the altar, another priest walked forward. Two young attendants walked before him and rolled the huge scrolls back to the second book of Moses. They were looking for the moment in our history that we were there to remember. The Giving of God’s Law to His Servant: Moses.


 
Nobody moved.
 
Satisfied they had found the right place, the two attendants stepped away.
 
The priest stepped forward and began recounting the ancient story, taking us all right back to the actual moment when our covenant was forged:
 
Yahweh had spoken to Moses: The Prophet alone was to ascend Sinai – the mountain of God – where Yahweh Himself would descend in the clouds and meet with him.
 
The intense holiness of God is an overpowering force not to be trifled with, and so the entire mountain and its borders were to be cleared of all people (and even of animals!) save they be utterly consumed in the Lord’s glorious presence.
 
The people were to purify themselves for two whole days, remaining sexually pure and washing even their clothes, in preparation for the Lord’s coming. Barriers were erected around the perimeter to prevent people rushing forward to gaze upon that which no man can see and live.
 
The morning of the third day arrived with the sight of thick dark clouds enveloping the entire mountain. The dark fog that surrounded Sinai was constantly lit up by the sharp spikes of lightning beneath the surface, and the very ground shuddered with the deep roars of thunder. Through the heavy blackness of the cloud layers, red and gold flames glowed and glistened menacingly.
 
Yahweh is here.
This is holy ground.
 
The God who had met Moses in the flames of the burning bush had now led him here to this place and had descended upon the mountain …in fire.
 
All who witnessed the sight trembled in terror.
 
Moses stepped forward, leading the people out of the camp and onto the lower slopes at the foothills of the mountain at a safe distance away. Even there though the earth still quaked in awesome fear.
 
And then came the sound.
 
Like the blowing of a… trumpet(?) – from… somewhere at the top of the mountain, but this was unlike any earthly instrument; its sound did not fade or falter as it went on… instead its blast grew louder and louder and louder…
 
Moses called out to Yahweh, and a voice from inside the cloud summoned back to him, beckoning him to enter the fire cloud and ascend the mountain of God.
 
And so, in an act of supreme bravely, Moses entered the black, smouldering wall of smoke – suddenly standing encased within its disorientating heat. He had vanished from the view of the people and began his ascent of Sinai’s slopes, there to meet with the Lord God Almighty…
 
 
Nobody in the temple dared to move, as the ancient account was retold in all its mysterious and disturbing detail.
 
But then the priest stopped reading.
Something had distracted him.
 
He was looking up.
Heads began to lift.
 
What had interrupted such a sacred moment?
 
Then I heard it too.
The sound of a rushing wind… coming from directly above us as though sent from heaven itself… tearing through the House of God, getting louder and louder and louder, and filling the whole place with its power. The tassels of my tallit shawl whipped around my face until the whole shawl was blown of my head entirely.
 
What was this?
 
The force of this wind blew harder and harder, its icy blast causing me squint my eyes to shield them from its ferocity. The air gushed ever faster, turning the whole temple into it’s own giant shofar horn as its pitch kept increasing.
 
Cleopas leant over to me, having to shout to be heard: “It’s like Sinai’s trumpet call…” he called to me. And he was right. Was the Lord descending to His people once again?
 
Instinctively, my head snapped up to look above me.
 
High above the heads of the crowd there was a huge cloak of blazing fire, spread out like a royal robe. Flames floating and flickering there, filling the house of God with a strange dancing red and orange haze.
 


I strained to focus my eyes to see what it was that was on fire – but there was nothing, no source, no fuel… just the flames themselves - suspended there in the air… No, wait! They were slowly descending towards us?! Heaven’s robes had been cast and were about to land on our shoulders…
 
“It’s travelling down!” I shouted back to Cleopas.
 
The priests were just stood there – unable to minister, unable to move. The crowd too were just completely captivated with the display of power and glory.
 
“What shall we do now?” Cleopas asked.
 
The words Jesus had left us with had been going round and round inside my head for days… “Just wait, just you wait and see. When Holy Spirit comes – you will be clothed… clothed with power… power from on high…”
 
Jesus had been true to His word: “If I go, I will send you another to be with you forever…”
 
“Just wait.” I called back, waiting for Cleopas to grasp my meaning, “we just wait, right?”
 
The fire over our heads slowed its approach… until it seemed to paused… just hanging there hovering over the crowd; close enough to feel the flare of its raw heat on our faces. Then it seemed to be spreading out over us as if it had a will of its own… but, no – it wasn’t spreading, it was breaking up into smaller groups of flames… until there were individual tongues of fire floating there, separate from each other.
 
These flames of fire began slowly moving out in different directions. We stood and watched, motionless and mesmerised, as the fire seemed to be drawn to very specific places. There was no doubt about it now - it was searching the room for something… or someone…
 
I noticed one of these tongues of fire approaching me… and another towards Cleopas next to me. What about the others? My head span around to catch another making its way towards Peter over in one direction, who was just gazing up at it in childlike joy. I looked the other way to see another flame that was already floating over John like a bronze crown, his face aglow with its golden flares.
 
The heavenly fire had sought us out… had found those of us here who were Jesus’ followers... nowhere to hide now.
 
Just wait. I told myself. Power from on high... Just you wait and see…
 
And just then I felt it touch me.
This was it. This was the promise Jesus had given us!
 
The flame landed upon my head. I felt its warm radiance spread through my face and head, down the back of my neck, and then out across my shoulders – and from there down my back and the rest of my body. I looked down at my hands, but saw no flames – the fire wasn’t on me, it was inside of me! I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply.
 
Ignited.
Invigorated.
Inspired.
 
This… incredible… warm… energy seemed hungry to pour out into every place inside of me. I opened my eyes again and I looked around the awe-struck faces of the temple crowds.
 
I felt this wave wash over me.
A wave of… love, love like I have never known before: a deep and powerful connection to the people there whose eyes were glued on us in confusion and wonder. I felt like I was seeing them for the first time – they weren’t a crowd to be feared, but children of God – loved by Him, and yet longing to fully know it.
 
I was suddenly aware that I knew it too. I am His child, not by virtue of where I was born or what laws I’d kept – but because of Jesus I was reborn.
 
Purified.
Consumed.
Refined.
Restored.
 
It all made sense like never before.
 
Bathed in love.
Clothed in power.
Adopted into His family.
 
And then came a feeling of urgency – not like panic, but more like… purpose. I looked back at my fellowship worshippers – they had to experience this too. They too had to know that God loved them, personally, just like this. I’d longed for that before ever since Emmaus – but never quite as strongly as this!
 
Gone was the fear of what to do or what to say - or what they might say - or do - to me. They just had to know.
 
I turned to talk to someone – to anyone – about it. A small group of people were gathered around me and were staring at me intensely with a mixture of concern and confusion written across their faces. These words began to pour out of me, flowing from… somewhere deep inside me. The whole story of Jesus from the start up until now… it felt absolutely amazing to allow His name to escape my lips in public, and to see people hungry to know more.
 
Cleopas began to do the same. “Gather round!” He shouted.
 
“Not so cautious now, Cleopas,” I thought to myself, smiling.
 
I could see circles of curious people forming around Peter and John too, and presumably all of us that had just become human torches for heaven’s light.
 
Suddenly an Egyptian man and his wife broke into to our group, he placed his hands on my arms. “You speak… Egyptian?” he said in broken Aramaic.
 
“No brother, I’m sorry I don’t.” I said, clasping his arms with my hands.
 
“No?” He looked confused. “how can we understand you?”
 
I turned to look at his wife, she was nodding.
They understood? How is that possible?
 
Just then Cleopas leant in and shouted to me: “There are Libyans over here. And they somehow know what I’m saying!?”
 
“It’s a miracle!” I shouted back.
 
Those words from the Psalter Scroll – words that I have heard read here at this very place, at this very time, since I was just a child, came racing back into my mind:

“There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard!
Their message is winged through all the earth, their words to the very ends of the world!”
 
This had to be God’s Spirit at work, just like Jesus had promised. Now we were declaring the glorious wonders of God – and people from all over the world were hearing it, in their own heart language!
 
This is why we had to wait… we couldn’t have done this if we’d tried…
 
“You will receive power when Holy Spirit comes upon you…” Jesus had barely been able to contain His excitement as He implanted that promise in our hearts only weeks ago, “and you will be witnesses… In Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and to the very ends of the earth…”
 
It was exhilarating - we were talking and laughing, enjoying exploring how many other people could understand the simple Aramaic coming out of our mouths in their own language! We didn’t want to end…
 

 
“Drunks!” I heard a voice behind me say, “that’s all this is… just a bunch of idiots who are just using the festival as an excuse for partying!” A few voices laughed.
 
My heart was screaming: no! But before I could say anything, I noticed Peter making his way towards the steps alongside one of the Temple walls… he was quickly joined by ten of the other original disciples.
 
“Listen friends!” he bellowed over the crowd. “Listen!”

The heads of the crowd spun around… “Jews, visitors… please listen – let me explain all this to you as best I can. I know some of you are suspecting that we are drunk – but we haven’t had time to have a drink, it’s only 9:00am in the morning.

No, what you are seeing unfolding before you here today, is the fulfilment of prophecy. Didn’t out Prophet Joel foresee this very thing?

In the end of days, declares the Lord, I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and your daughters will prophesy.
Your young men will see visions.
Your old men will dream dreams.
Yes, and on my servants and on my handmaidens in those days,
I will pour out my Spirit, and they will prophesy!”
 
Then looking up above us to where the smoke from the heavenly fire still hung in the air, he continuing quoting: “I will show wonders in the sky above..”
 
And then pointing at his lips with one hand, and gesturing towards the ears of a Arabian women in the crowd with the other: “and signs on the earth beneath…” She smiled widely, nodding back, understanding him in her own dialect.
 
Wonders above and signs below… just as the prophet foretold. This wasn’t induced by wine, it couldn’t be… this was nothing less that the pouring out of the Holy Spirit.
 
“blood, and fire, and billows of smoke.” He resumed, “The sun will be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and glorious day of the Lord.”
 
And then, throwing his arms open wide, Peter said: “And anyone and everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved!”
 
The atmosphere of the Temple was incredible. Peter kept going, talking about Jesus – and the signs and wonders the people had seen Him do on these very streets and out across the nation far beyond the city. He explained that the cross was part of God’s redemption plan all along – and that death itself was powerless to contain Jesus!
 
“And we…” Peter said, pointing at his fellow disciples. “We are all witnesses of the fact! I have seen and can testify, the same Jesus you crucified is alive again and not only that - has now ascended to right hand of the throne of God before my very eyes.”
 
As Peter scanned the faces of the crowd, he caught my eye for a moment. Tears were just streaming down my face. Tears of joy. Was this really the same Peter who only weeks ago had been too scared to admit knowing Jesus at all, now publicly declaring Him – even staking his life on it, admitting to being a witness of all these things?
 
Power. That’s what he had now.
We were clothed with power from on high.
 
By now Peter was in full flow– there was no stopping him. “And from His Father’s side - it is He who has poured out Holy Spirit upon us today!”

Words were flowing loud and clear, urgent and loving. He was quoting from other parts of the scriptures too, King David’s prophecies all woven together... Then he paused, took a deep breath, and made the pronouncement: “Therefore, let all the house of Israel know this: this same Jesus whom you crucified God has now made both Lord and Christ!”
 
I turned to look at the faces of those around me. There was a profound sense of sadness as the realisation began to spread through the room. They had been wrong about Jesus, wrong about the cross, wrong about the prophecies…
 
“Tell me!” a voice from near the front shouted, “Tell me what I can do!”
“Yes!” yelled another further back, “Please – tell us what to do…”
Others obviously shared the same desperate concern as other voices joined the call with similar questions of their own.
 
“Change!” Peter shouted, causing the noise to die back down, “Change your mind! Change your ways! But don’t try to do it in your own strength... Come and be baptised in the Name of Jesus – immerse yourself in His life, in His love; wash the past away, and He will cleanse you completely! And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit!”
 
The scenes I saw next will remain with me for the rest of my life.
 
We spread out from there to the outer courts where there are rows of ritual baths near the entrance. All of us brothers were down in the waters, baptising person after person after person! Praying for our new-found brothers and sisters, watching them receive the Holy Spirit too.
 
I lost count, but Levi later told me the number was about 3,000. “And you should know better than anyone…” Levi said to me beaming, “that today is Shavuot – all these new disciples, they’re just first fruits of the harvest. Whatever just happened – it’s just the beginning…!”

Jonathan Vaughan-Davies is the minister at Bethel Baptist Church in Whitchurch, Cardiff, and is also seconded to the Association Team in South Wales to explore Digital Communication and Digital Mission.

He has a particular passion for all things creative in mission and ministry, and blogs regularly at bethelcardiff.org.uk/blog. 

This is the fourth (and last) of the creative and immersive pieces which chart the journey from Easter to Pentecost.

• Read and listen to part one of The Pentecost Diaries: The Road Home here. 

• Read and listen to part two of The Pentecost Diaries: Re-entry here. 

• Read and listen to part three of The Pentecost Diaries: Uprising here. 

• Read and listen to part four of The Pentecost Diaries: Renewed here.