Here I sit at my desk looking at images of yesterday’s Pentecost splendor as the tongues of fire touched all in attendance just as they did that first time.
How did His disciples feel on this day? Did they feel as I do? Did they feel almost slain by the lingering heat from the flame of yesterday? Surely their countenance would never be what it once was as the Light shining through them was something never known before and which they’d risk EVERYTHING to share . . . and here I sit, in my brokenness desiring to do the same and confident that He will guide me all the way.
3 They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated
and came to rest on each of them.