Yesterday we celebrated Pentecost.  I wish I had had my camera with me to get a photo of the communion table.  On Pentecost every brings in a red candle and places it on the communion table.  At the beginning of the service, the pastor lights them all to symbolize the spread of the Holy Spirit.

For those of you who may not know the story of Pentecost, this is Acts 2: 1-12, NIV.

When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.  They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them.  All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.

Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven.  When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken. Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language? Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!” Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, “What does this mean?”

I’m not sure why this only came to me when I saw the quote above, but Pentecost is a story of God’s love.  This is God meeting the people where they are.  Why do I think that?  Because he sends them the Gospel in their own languages.

I can’t help but think that when he tells us to love one another, he wants us to do the same.  He wants us to deliver his word without preamble and without conditions.  Simple, straight forward and without preamble, just because.