CHILDREN OF ACTS
A
DAUGHTER OF PENTECOST
A
monolog for a teen girl
By
Robert Allen
“Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every
nation under heaven.
When
they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment,
because each one heard their own language
being spoken.” Acts 2:5-6
Jerusalem will never be the same
again. My parents and I attended
services in the upper room that day because of my Uncle Philip. As one of the disciples of Jesus he took very
seriously the assignment Christ gave them before he went back to heaven. He wanted everyone to know the good news
about Jesus and that included his own extended family. We knew Jesus had promised to send the
Comforter to abide with us forever, but we really didn’t understand what that
meant. At least I didn’t.
The first thing I noticed was the
wind. Here in Jerusalem we are familiar
with the sirocco winds that blow in from the desert, but this was
different. The air in the entire room
began to move even though no windows were open.
The wind came from no physical source as far as we could tell. It simply began to blow. Then a flame appeared which the wind fanned
into a fire in midair. The fire
separated into small flames which rested on each one of us, still glowing
brightly but not burning our skin. I
turned to say something to my parents but they spoke first in a language I
didn’t know. When I answered them they
couldn’t understand me either.
I started to panic, but Peter seemed
to know immediately what was happening.
“This is the coming of the Holy
Spirit which our Lord promised,” he said in a calm voice. “The Spirit will make it possible for us to
do what Jesus commanded. And to show us
that he is making it possible for us to obey Christ’s command to witness to all
nations.”
When he said that, I
understood as well. It was the season of
Pentecost and people from all over had come to Jerusalem to celebrate. There were people from Judea of course, but
also those from Egypt and Libya, Rome and Crete. There were people who spoke languages we
didn’t know and now we had been given the ability to communicate with
them.
Seizing on the miraculous opportunity the Holy Spirit had
given us we headed out into the streets of Jerusalem. Walking through the crowded streets I heard a
family talking together in the language I had tried to use with my parents. They were from Pamphylia and you can image
how exited they were to talk with someone who understood them. They kept asking me if I was from Galilee,
and how I could speak their language. So
I told them about the coming of the Holy
Spirit. We had a wonderful time getting
acquainted. It seems they had already
heard about some of the events concerning Jesus and were very curious. They
were glad to listen as I told them of His love for them. When I shared His purpose for coming to earth
and invited them to trust Him as Savior they accepted my invitation willingly.
All around me others were doing the same, communicating
the good news of the gospel in languages they had never studied. A very large group gathered around Peter and
as he preached we translated his words for people from over fifteen different
countries who would never have understood him otherwise. By the end of that marvelous day over three
thousand people had come to faith in the risen Christ, including my new friends
from Pamphylia.
That’s why Jerusalem will never be the same. The Holy Spirit has come. Multitudes are receiving the gospel. We have the power to do what Christ commanded
us to do. When my new friends said
“goodbye” they promised to share the good news with everyone back in Pamphylia
as well. And they already know the
language. So really, it is not just
Jerusalem which will never be the same.
The world will never be the same.
The world will never be the same.
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