in the flame of a

I wonder about the upper room at the Pentecost. I can't imagine that any of them (save maybe Peter) were ready for what was coming. I imagine this gathering of ten dozen as sharing a meal and fellowshipping and going about the business -- about the business of this new religion. I imagine some of them were there in full faith, having seen His resurrected form and all. Others were coming in secret because this was the thing to do being new chosen leaders.

And here was this small business matter, this replacing of the fallen one. I imagine some in the crowd still whispering to each other the gruesome details. Others are discussing their experiences with the Risen Lord. Each of them casting their votes, many coming to Matthias and Barsabbas with silent knowing nods. But all of them going about the business of this new religion.

And then it comes.

A pronounced roaring. A violence upon the room, in the room, a noise causing the small matter of business to be the farthest of thoughts. And then fire?! And what is this fire?!

And then it comes.

And that peace, that Spirit taking over from their startledness, that Spirit taking over from their surprise and wonder, that Spirit empowering them in ways their less-than-mustard faiths could ever have empowered them. And that peace. When the mantle fits you as if it were sewn for you, as it was sewn for you, when that mantle fits -- former thoughts aren't relevant. And that peace.