It can cost a lot
this Pentecost,
in reputations tarnished and
friendships lost;
you can look stoned at 9.00 am
and be stoned-to-death by 10.00.

The Spirit’s breath
disturbs complacency,
lethargy, liturgy;
never leaving things as it finds them
or in the same place.

The Spirit’s fire warms, but
close enough and fierce enough
to singe and scar and pain,
removing dross;
things never quite the same again.

Pentecost knocks us off our feet,
seeing the world with a new horizon,
becoming the change we long for and
the answers to our persistent prayers:

loving in a place of hating;
painting rainbows in the dark;
dancing in the land of the lame;
letting go when all are hanging on;
speaking truth in a language of lies;
giving away at a time of great keeping;
fasting slowly at the table of indulgence;
forgiving in an atmosphere of retribution;
standing for peace in a world falling for war;
moving to the edge when everyone travels to the centre.