'Same Spirit, Different Responses'

Whenever God is at work, a response is unavoidable. Luke tells us that on the day of Pentecost, as the Holy Spirit was poured out, the crowd was “amazed and perplexed” and asked one another, “What does this mean?” (Acts 2:12). Just one verse later, we’re told that “some, however, made fun of them.” Same event. Same Spirit. Radically different responses.

What makes this striking is that they all heard the same thing—“the wonders of God in our own languages.” You would think such a powerful, unmistakable moment would produce a unified reaction. But it didn’t. Because encounters with God do not flatten people into sameness; they reveal what already holds their deepest allegiance.

When a person’s loyalty is rooted in self-preservation, status, or control, an experience of God can feel threatening—or even ridiculous. The Spirit disrupts carefully managed lives. But when a person’s allegiance is to a larger purpose—to God, to calling, to community—that same encounter becomes a refining fire. The difference isn’t the experience. It’s the heart receiving it. That’s why human unity at Babel collapsed into confusion, while divine power at Pentecost forged a people into one body.

Viktor Frankl famously said, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.” Pentecost exposed that space. Some leaned in with wonder. Others leaned back with contempt.

Luke tells us that about 5,000 were added to their number that day. But we’re left to wonder—how many walked away? The Spirit moved powerfully, yet not everyone followed. And that’s a crucial reminder for us: God never promises uniform reactions to faithful witness.

Here’s the heart of it—God wants people to come face to face with the Holy Spirit in you. People encounter God when you live the message, when you allow the Spirit to speak through you. In our men’s group this week, we talked about witnessing not as argument, but as presence: “God helped me in a similar situation. Can I pray with you?” People are desperate to know they are not alone. When you pray with them, God meets them in a real and powerful way.

If we refuse to let God speak through us, we become like the disciples hiding in the upper room—safe, contained, and silent. But God didn’t pour out His Spirit to keep the church hidden. He wants us in the courtyard, in our businesses, at the grocery store, speaking hope to neighbors and coworkers. People may misunderstand it—but they can’t ignore it.

Pentecost produced both wonder and ridicule. Curiosity and contempt. Openness and offense. Some asked, “What does this mean?” Others scoffed, “They’re drunk.” And the disciples didn’t manage any of it. The Spirit never asked them to control reactions—only to bear witness.

Mockery didn’t stop the mission. Confusion didn’t derail the message. The Spirit moved anyway.

Acts begins with wind and fire. God takes what is still and launches it into motion. The church wasn’t born through talent, grit, or confidence—it began when God breathed and the Holy Spirit fell.

And if God could launch a frightened group of disciples into a world-changing witness, He can still launch His people today.

Come, Holy Spirit.

Set Your church ablaze.

Blessings,

Jonathan