A "Glimpse" of Pentecost Morn

IT WAS SOMETHING LIKE two minutes before the arrival of the Holy Ghost. Inside, the friends of Jesus were huddled within the upper room. Outside, the Pentecost crowds were going about their morning’s busyness. 

These two groups of people weren’t yet aware of each other.

At each corner of the room, rudimentary sconces held flickering oil lanterns: the dancing yellow light illumined the faces and bowed heads of the circle. The smell of the room was thick with unwashed clothing and stagnant breath. This was where they’d been, and all they’d been doing, for the last ten days since he went.

One of the women was praying aloud: “…and did you not tell us the story of the judge and the widow, Lord? Well, here I am, a widow like she, and I beseech you. I beseech you, Lord, that, being as we are so small, so insignificant, so terribly outnumbered by the powers and people who would stand against us, Lord, that you yourself would stand within our midst—O, be our strength! be our might!—so that we might hold our heads high…in you. You have given us an impossibly difficult task to do, Lord. You have left the whole world in the keeping of only us…

“And I recall you asking, when you stood before the crowd that day, if you, on your returning, would be able to find faithful ones who had maintained their faith…”

She lifted her head and the lantern-light caught the edges of her features.

“Well, Lord, we believe—and we are ready to receive…”

A wind starts to blow within the room…