So often, Pentecost feels to me like the last ellipsis before we trail off into deafening silence. We have this meaningful, tangible build-up to Passover, then right into Unleavened Bread, then we pause for a bit, then Pentecost, and then…
And then nothing. For a while, at least. We’re left with a gap between what is and what will be. An impassable chasm between what’s been fulfilled and what we’re still longing for. And the temptation is the same as it always is:
Wait. Get busy with other things, put God’s plan on the backburner. Tabernacles will be here before we know it, and there are plenty of other things to busy ourselves with in the meantime.
Except the gap isn’t a reprieve, is it? It isn’t permission to take a break. It’s a reminder, and it has a message for us, just like the feast days do:
A certain nobleman went into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom and to return. So he called ten of his servants, delivered to them ten minas, and said to them, “Do business till I come.”
Do business, Christ tells us. Get busy with My things, He says.
Yes, there are things in this life that deserve our attention—but we still have a job to be doing in the gap. Christianity is not a passive thing; it takes doing, not just being.
When our Nobleman went to receive His Kingdom, what did He deliver to us?
But now I go away to Him who sent Me, and none of you asks Me, “Where are You going?” But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your heart. Nevertheless I tell you the truth. It is to your advantage that I go away; for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you; but if I depart, I will send [it] to you.
The Holy Spirit. Not a mina for us to bury in the ground—a mina for us to use. To do business with till He comes.
What did the nobleman in the parable expect to hear when he returned? “Master, your mina has earned ten minas,” and, “Master, your mina has earned five minas” (Luke 19:16, 18). He expected to see growth. Improvement. He equipped his servants to end with more than they started with.
What about our Nobleman? What does He expect to hear upon His return?
What about, “Master, Your Spirit has produced peace”?
What about, “Master, Your Spirit has produced gentleness and love”?
What about, “Master, Your Spirit has produced patience, self-control, and joy”?
If we sit on our hands during the gap, we won’t be able to say that. We’ll only be able to say what the wicked and lazy servant said: “Master, here is your Spirit, which I have kept put away.”
Translation: I didn’t do anything with it. I didn’t use it to make a difference. I didn’t use it to grow to be more like You. I kept it safe.
We know how that story ends. We know those excuses don’t work. God has equipped us to do some incredible, impossible things, to grow in ways we never imagined possible, and to succeed—”for God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7).
Power and love and a sound mind. That’s not just flowery language—that’s the truth. “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellence of the power may be of God and not of us” (2 Corinthians 4:7). Here we are, chunks of clay brought to life by the Almighty God, walking around with His Spirit, “hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed—always carrying about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our body” (2 Corinthians 4:8-10).
We’re in the gap right now. We’re going to be in the gap until Christ returns with His Kingdom and asks to see what we’ve done with what we’ve been given.
God gave His Spirit to you.
Gave His Spirit.
What are you going to do with it in the gap?
Until next time,