When I say the Alleluia now that Lent is past, and it was gone for what feels like so long, I like to imagine there is a wild wind sweeping down over me.
The cold tomb now open, the dead now rise, the dull flame now flickers to life, and I'm reminded again of the power of the Father and the Son in the Resurrection, and of the power of the Spirit poured out into the whole Church at Pentecost.
The Holy Spirit Who once hovered over the waters at the dawn of time, Who spoke through the prophets, Who came to the Church on Pentecost, and Who lives now in me. It's no wonder Saint Stephen could not stop telling the truth of his Savior, and why the crowd felt powerless against it.
Acts 6 reads like something had taken over him, and Stephen alone was no longer at the wheel.
It's no wonder scared Saint Peter became fearless. It's no wonder Saul, murderer of Christians, became the greatest evangelist of the age. And what of me? What is to become of me? And what of you, sister?
The Spirit moves us. It moves. Let the stories of the Saints be ours.
Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of Your love. Send forth Your Spirit and they shall be created. And You shall renew the face of the earth.
Blythe Fike is the wife of Kirby and mother of 8 smallish kids. She loves the quiet life in small town SoCal. She is a contributing author to our children's devotional prayer book called Rise Up. You can find out more about her here.
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