05/25/2026
Breathing the Fire of Love, A sermon delivered on Pentecost at Christ Episcopal Church/Christ Lutheran Chapel
Do fire-breathing dragons exist? How can living flesh coexist with red-hot flame? People answer with magic. On a visit to a modern creationist museum in Glendive, Montana, I saw elaborate displays claiming to prove dragons and other ancient monsters once lived—plastic models, dramatic dioramas, and speculative “scientific” plaques. The explanations were ingeniously clever but ultimately misleading and just plain false. Why go to such lengths? Some take the Bible’s Leviathan in Job literally. In Job 41 Leviathan is described with armored scales, exhaling light and sparks, billowing smoke—untamed, fearless, living chaos. In short: a fire-breathing dragon whose description rivals Tolkien’s depiction of Smaug in The Hobbit.
You may ask, what has this to do with Pentecost? First, Leviathan appears in today’s Psalm. Second—and more important—I want to ask: how can tongues of fire, the hallmark of Pentecost, dwell and speak through flesh without burning us up?
A bit of background:
Psalm 104 praises God for setting the boundaries of earth, sea, and sky. Animals depend on God for food, breath, and life. “When you send forth your spirit, they are created… when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust.” The Spirit of God is the source of life. Among the creatures is Leviathan. Why would God create such a deadly, chaotic sea creature? The sea is wild and perilous; the Psalmist says “Leviathan is formed to sport in it.” Sport here means God made it to revel in, to delight in. God delights in the wild. God frolics with this giant. We, too, are designed to live within and play in a chaotic world; God’s untamed Spirit glories in it.
Now—how can humans speak with fiery tongues?
Our culture is full of fiery speech. Open the news or social media and you hear roars calling for death: “They should be executed,” “They don’t deserve to live.” This fire is hatred; it kills love and hardens the heart. Too often hatred is fed by lies that declare some people less made in God’s image—immigrants, Muslims, political opponents. That is the devil’s lie; it is fiery speech that destroys.
Pentecost’s message opposes that fire. While worldly tongues burn with rage, the Holy Spirit burns with love and grants peace. In the Gospel the risen Jesus greets the disciples: “Peace be with you.” He breathes on them—his breath of love. At Pentecost the Spirit appears as rushing wind and “divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability.” Whereas tongues of hatred divide, the Spirit’s tongue unites. Pentecost undoes Babel: where pride fractured speech and alienated people, the Spirit opens tongues so truth can bind us together.
Paul’s Epistle reminds us there is one Spirit that holds the body of Christ. Each of us is a unique image of God, part of one whole animated by the Spirit of love. Each person has gifts to help the whole flourish. Above all are the fruits of the Spirit in Galatians: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” Let this Spirit guide us; do not become conceited, competitive, or envious.
What does it cost to carry the Spirit’s flame? The cost of the Holy Spirit is the cost of love—our whole life. Jesus gave his life to breathe the Spirit into us. The Spirit calls us to give ourselves to God and the world. The paradox: in giving we receive; in losing our life for others we find it. In offering love, love dwells in us. Our baptismal vows call us to follow this Spirit.
Celebrant: Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
People: I will, with God’s help.
I close with an example from a hero of mine, Clarence Jordan. He was a farmer, preacher, and biblical scholar who founded an in*******al farm near Americus, Georgia, in the 1950s. The group was persecuted; death threats, vandalism, thefts, and shootings were part of their life. Jordan’s daughter Jan was bullied by a boy named Bob Speck. One day after school she told her dad “he had been calling her a ‘nigger lover’ and had been knocking her books down.” Jordan told her he was so mad he’d “ask Jesus to excuse me for about fifteen minutes while I beat the hell out of that little so and so.” Jan replied, “You can’t be excused from being a Christian for fifteen minutes.” She refused to fight, but she also refused to bow down in silence to the bully. When the boy came, she would smile and wave, act as if she were crazy about him, and ask him if he wanted a kiss. The other kids teased him, and he stopped bothering her.
Young Jan had the flaming tongue of love that overcame the boy’s fiery hate. She was breathed on by Jesus. It doesn’t always end happily; speaking love, truth, and unity may not spare us from suffering. Confronting Leviathans in political hate may bring wrath. But hatred fails from the start because it burns our hearts. What good is gaining the world by hatred if we lose our soul? So be dragons—breathe the Holy Spirit’s fire: a fire of love that gives life.
