The Spirit Speaks in Every Language
Today, we begin with a question. If the divine were to speak directly to you—right now—how would you know? What would you listen for? Would it sound like your own voice? Or might it come through someone else—someone unfamiliar, someone unexpected?
Acts 2 gives us a direct encounter with this question. It is not just an inspiring passage or a historical event. It is the moment—the one where everything begins. We call it Pentecost, and it is not just a Christian invention. Pentecost was originally a Jewish pilgrimage festival known as Shavuot, held 50 days after Passover. Traditionally, it commemorated the giving of the law at Sinai and celebrated the first fruits of the harvest. So, the people were already gathered. The stage was already set. And Acts 2:5 tells us, “Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem.”
This was not a quiet gathering of the insiders. This was a festival filled with movement and energy, full of people speaking a multitude of languages, carrying different traditions, stories, and experiences. That detail matters. When the Spirit shows up, it does so in the middle of a diverse crowd, not a closed circle.
Then it happens. Earlier in the chapter, we are told that there was a sound like the rush of a violent wind. That is the Greek word pneuma—Spirit, breath, wind. In Hebrew, it is ruach. It is the same word used in Genesis when the Spirit hovers over the waters before creation. This is not a new thing God is doing—it is a return to original presence. Then, tongues of fire appear. Fire, in biblical imagery, represents purification, presence, and power. Think of the burning bush. Think of Sinai. But now, the fire does not settle on a mountain. It rests on people. People become the new place of encounter.
And then the miracle of speech. The disciples begin to speak—not in a heavenly language that no one understands—but in the languages of those gathered. Parthians, Medes, Elamites, Egyptians, Libyans, Romans—each person hears in their own native language. Not a translation. Not a summary. The actual language of their hearts and homes. This is not just communication—it is recognition.
That is the real miracle: recognition. The Spirit chooses not to erase difference but to honor it. What was once divided—what we first saw in the story of Babel—is now transformed. Not undone but redeemed. The diversity of language is not a curse. It is now the vessel of revelation.
Think about the power of that. The Spirit does not ask people to conform. It speaks to them where they are, as they are. In their context. In their culture. That is a message the church has needed to hear in every generation since.
Now, some people are amazed, and others mock. “They are filled with new wine,” they say. Peter—bold and deeply grounded—stands up and says, “These are not drunk, as you suppose. It is only nine in the morning!” Then he does something deeply Jewish—he interprets the moment through scripture. He draws on the prophet Joel, who said:
“In the last days it will be, God declares,
that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh,
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.”
Now this is where we have to pay attention. The prophecy begins, “In the last days,” and we hear that phrase and often jump to fear—end times, destruction, collapse. In this context, it is not about doom. It is not the end of the world in a destructive sense, but a culminating moment of transformation. It marks a shift—a deep unveiling—where the Spirit becomes available to all, and the world is reoriented toward justice, healing, and shared vision.
The Spirit is not coming in a hierarchical way. The text says all flesh—that is radical inclusivity, without exception. That means everyone. Sons and daughters. Young and old. Even the enslaved. No group is excluded. No identity is disqualified. In fact, the Spirit seems most interested in crossing every possible human boundary—gender, age, social class.
And what are they doing? Prophesying. That Greek word is propheteuo—not predicting the future, but speaking divine truth, speaking what is. The Spirit does not just comfort. The Spirit empowers. And it empowers people to speak out. That means the quiet receive voice, the marginalized are centered, and those silenced begin to speak truth that transforms.
Then this line: your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. These are not just poetic flourishes. This is about a spiritual epistemology—a way of knowing that legitimizes the symbolic, the intuitive, and the contemplative. When Peter says people will see visions and dream dreams, he is saying that divine truth comes not just through logic or tradition, but through the soul’s capacity to perceive meaning beyond the surface. Inner knowing becomes sacred ground.
We also see the symbolic imagery from Joel—portents in the heavens, blood, fire, smoky mist, the sun turned to darkness, and the moon to blood. These are apocalyptic signs, but not meant to scare us. They are symbols of unveiling. That is what “apocalypse” means in Greek—uncovering. It is the peeling back of illusion. The Spirit is saying: everything you thought was fixed, is not. Everything you thought was limited, is now open. It is not the end of the world. It is the beginning of a new way of being in it.
And then the closing line: “Then everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” That word saved—soteria in Greek—is not just about heaven later. It is about wholeness and liberation now. It is about being restored to your full self, in right relationship with others, and in alignment with the divine. This is not about escape. It is about participation in a new way of living. To call on the name of the Lord is not simply a religious act—it is a trusting alignment with divine life, open to all, regardless of origin.
What does this mean for us now?
It means we need to listen—not just to the voices we already know, but to those speaking in languages we have never learned. We need to recognize the Spirit moving in places that make us uncomfortable. And we need to reimagine what spiritual leadership looks like. Because if the Spirit is poured out on all flesh, then we are all potential vessels. The question is not whether we are allowed. The question is whether we are listening—and willing.
It also means that the structures we have inherited—hierarchies, systems of exclusion—must be reexamined. Because the Spirit is not interested in sustaining what divides. It is creating something altogether new. That includes racial and ethnic barriers, gender boundaries, and even religious assumptions. This is not about sameness. It is about unity in diversity.
And this moment at Pentecost—it is not just something that happened. It is something that happens. It is the ongoing story of the Spirit in the world. And our call is not to just remember it, but to live it.
So, I ask you again: What would it take for you to believe the Spirit is alive and already speaking? And are you open to hearing it in a voice you did not expect? In a language that is not your own? In a person you may have overlooked?
The Spirit has not stopped speaking. It is just that we have often stopped listening. And the miracle of Pentecost is that divine communication did not come through the expected channels. It came through Galileans—unrefined, rural people, not the religious elite. It came in languages of the world, not in the liturgical tongue. It came in the voices of the other—and that is still true today.
The Spirit does not impose order from above but rises from within and among all people, breaking into ordinary life with ecstatic communication, shared vision, and sacred purpose. This is a collapse of the illusion of separation. Pentecost is not a supernatural interruption—it is the unveiling of what has always been true: we are bound together in divine presence, across time, place, and language.
Today’s text is the story of Spirit unleashed. It is the birth of a community that exists not to dominate, but to witness—to show that the Spirit is real, accessible, and alive in every human being. It is the moment the divine becomes truly public—heard not only in heaven, but in every human heart. We are not waiting for Pentecost to come again. We are being invited to live Pentecost now.
May we have ears to hear. And voices to speak.
Amen.