Some of us who at least secretly like to think we are somewhat sophisticated have a hard time associating God with irregularity or noise. We expect noise from every quarter but God’s, and we approach the Most High with a Psalm-fragment: “Be still, and know that I am God.” We picture old saints discovering the Lord in vast solitudes. We think on the silent forces that move cosmic worlds.
Then into our silent reverie burst the Jesus people. They sing with almost irreverent gusto. They aim their forefingers at the sky and shout, “Right on with Jesus!” We wince a bit, deeply aware of the ravaging power of emotionalism. Do these kids think God is hard of hearing?
We are a little gun-shy of any raucous exercises in the kingdom of heaven. We dote on the peace that pervades as we gather for a quiet hour in the holy sanctuary. Still, at times we are forced to remember that the Church has not always been characterized by placidity. We particularly recall that there was a rather clamorous moment “when suddenly there came from the sky a noise like that of a strong driving wind, which filled the whole house where they were sitting” (Acts 2:2, NEB). And those Spirit-charged people made such a commotion that others came running to see what was happening. Imagine such a thing occurring in our usual Sunday-morning church service!
Granted, this notable phenomenon at Pentecost happened only once in the history of the Church; still, once should be enough to demonstrate that God can be around in something other than the atmosphere of “blessed quietness.”
What’s more, Luke’s journal of the young church strongly suggests that those believers were not altogether distinguished by serenity. The Book of Acts is rather a noisy book! Dr. Van Dusen, president emeritus of Union Seminary, once remarked that Peter and Paul would probably feel much more at home in any Pentecostal meeting than in our formalized and sophisticated services.
The late Samuel Shoemaker used to say that every church needed some “quiet fanaticism.” Some of us are not very keen on any sort of fanaticism; but if there is to be any around we would like to have it very quiet!
I have spent many quiet days in calm, sunny Florida. But once I encountered a hurricane there. Although I can scarcely recall what the calm days were like, I will never forget that “mighty rushing wind.” Could it be that while God’s Spirit usually operates noiselessly in the world, at times he needs to confront us with something like a big wind? Unbelievers in Jerusalem may never have been jarred out of their complacency by a spiritual zephyr. And probably such a breeze may never have blown those disciples in every direction with the Gospel! Possibly to the most formal mind there has come an urge to see one of heaven’s hurricanes sweep over a yawning congregation!
Tranquility did not always characterize those gatherings where Jesus communicated with people. Some days there was anything but calm. And once when he was climbing a hill toward Jerusalem some “Jesus people” followed him shouting, “God bless the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory to God!” (Luke 19:38, TEV). Some religious chiefs demanded that these noisy followers be hushed. Jesus replied, “I tell you that if they kept quiet, the very stones in the road would burst out cheering” (Luke 19:40, Phillips). Something there is in the world that will praise its Maker! One recalls how in the last psalm the poet enlists everything that can make a noise for the business of exalting God.
Having said all this, I still have no relish for excessive noise in worship services. I am still pretty skittish about congregational demonstrations. But I do think that perhaps we should not quickly disown from the great Brotherhood those who to us appear too noisy. We seek quiet and peace with God; yet unquestionably God sometimes arrives in the “noise of a strong driving wind”—if for no other reason than to jar us out of our stubborn drift toward religious smugness.
Above all, should we not receive God wholeheartedly, whether he comes in ghostly silence or with the cheers of those who cannot keep silent about their great deliverance? Possibly some of our more staid souls, should they draw nearer to the noisy ones, might suddenly get the urge to join the cry, “Right on with Jesus!” Those who disturbed the quiet at Pentecost wound up with several thousand fresh members for the Church! There might be some lesson there for those of us, who like tranquillity and regularity in the worship of God.
Whether Christ comes to us in wind, earthquake, or “the still small voice,” whether he breaks in on us in the solemn sanctuary or through the jubilant street people, whether he comes in the front door or the back, we Christians should all say, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.” For whatever door he comes through, his presence cracks our facades of cynicism and heals our wounded love.—LON WOODRUM, United Methodist evangelist, Hastings, Michigan.
