Filled with the Holy Spirit by Dr. Bruce

Is that a good thing?

Have you ever known someone who claims to be filled with the Holy Spirit? Who says that when she asked God to come into her life, the Almighty took up residence in her heart? According to scripture, it is a real phenomenon. Yet, if one digs further into the concept, it does get a bit confusing. In Galatians, Paul writes this about being a Christian, ‘It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.’ OK, but in other passages, the Holy Spirit possess people, not Jesus. Well, tomato, tomato, perhaps. The important aspect of that possession, though, is that once you are a Christian, you are a new creation. The old part of you is gone. Apparently, this rejuvenation occurs because God, in some form, resides in you, somewhere. Yet, one might fairly ask, what is the benefit to this possession? Is it really a good thing?

When I was growing up in the church, we had a minister named Brother Buck. He was a downhome country guy and had a passion for drawing and painting. Yet, he, for some reason, perhaps because he had a family to support, became a pastor. Jovial, portly and kind, Brother Buck was a decent minister, although not so high on the fire and brimstone scale. He would, however, preach the standard evangelical message. Yet, more interestingly, he found a way to include drawing into his sermons. For Sunday evening services, a large canvas was placed by the pulpit. That way, after his sermon, while the piano played softly in the background, he could do a chalk drawing that echoed the evening’s message. One particular night is highlighted in my memory. Let me take you to that moment. Brother Buck stands in front of the pulpit. He wears a dark suit and a bolo tie, has just closed his bible and is finishing his thoughts. “My brothers and sisters,” he says, “God loves us and wants us to be with him in heaven.” Amens ring throughout the sanctuary. “And, how do we get there?” He asks and then immediately answers, “We accept Jesus into our hearts and then the Holy Spirit dwells within us, guiding and protecting us.”

He walks to the canvas, smiling broadly and continues, “Jesus says that we, his sheep, hear his voice and follow, and He gives us eternal life.” Brother Buck picks up the chalk and begins drawing, speaking more loudly, since he faces away from the congregation. “The path to heaven is narrow, and wide is the one to destruction.” Different colors of chalk dust fly in the air as he draws like a man possessed, completely enraptured in his work. The faithful crane their necks, trying to glimpse his activity while the magic is occurring. When he finishes and turns around, the man facing us is quite a sight, flushed, hair disheveled, suit covered in chalk dust. In contrast to his appearance, his creation is well-organized. A cross, the vertical side of which is narrow, is dotted with only a few people. A soft, golden light shines from its furthest end. Flaxen-colored halos surround the travelers on this path, indicating that they brim with possession of the holy spirit. Yet, the horizontal bar of the cross, wide, crowded with many figures, leads to harshly drawn yellow and red flames, a devil holding a pitchfork waiting to greet. The point of the message is clear, if you’re filled with the spirit of God, oh happy days. If not, Lake of Fire.

At the tender age of twelve, I had prayed the conversion prayer with the pastor, more to please my family than anything else. So, being a Christian, I should be comforted by Brother Buck’s message. However, viewing the work of art, I wonder about having a spirit living within me, guiding my life, directing me towards the narrow path, away from death and destruction. And, I find myself questioning, do I want this? You might fairly ask, why I would even think about refusing such a gift. Because, I don’t like the idea that an entity possesses me and guides my decisions. That since converting a couple of years before, I no longer have my own will.

Staring at the drawing, I feel panicked. I try to think of a way out. I didn’t really understand the commitment I was making at my conversion, I tell myself. Yeah, problem is, once saved always saved. According to the dogma, I can’t walk away from it. And, if I rebel, I’ll be punished because I can’t get this entity out of me. I’m trapped. In other words, I’m screwed. I spend the next few days scouring the bible, looking for an escape. The first scriptural references I come across cast the possession as being positive. 1st John clearly states that the one inside of me is greater than the one in the world. OK, God is greater than Satan. So what? Even Christians have bad things happen to them. I’m old enough to know that. Then, a verse from the book of Romans catches my eye, saying that being possessed by Jesus gives you life, even though your body is dead because of sin. So, here it’s clearly stated that Jesus is in me, not the holy spirit, although perhaps they’re interchangeable as part of the trinity. Never quite understood the three in one, distinct, but the same, nonsense. Anyway, I gain some kind of rejuvination, in heaven, I gather. Yet, I find it disturbing that my body is considered dead. Does that mean that I can’t enjoy earthly pleasures because they’re inherently sinful? Not even ice cream?

Nevermind, too deep. What else does this possession do for me? Supposedly, it makes me special. How? 2nd Timothy says that we should use the holy spirit who lives in us to keep the treasure we’ve been given. What treasure? Money is not free-flowing in my household. No, no, it’s not money, but the salvation that Brother Buck so clearly illustrated. But, if I can’t give it back, why do I have to worry about losing it? Very confusing. Now, I find myself even more anxious that I could lose this gift, which I’m not sure I really want anyway. Is that cognitive dissonance? Thus, I read further, trying to puzzle this out. In Colossians, we are told that God has shared with us the glorious riches of this mystery, Christ in us, the hope of glory. Again, it’s Christ this time, not the Holy Spirit, who lives in us and our salvation is apparently a mystery and merely a hope. So, do I have the treasure or not? Perhaps it depends on how I live.

And that brings my original concern into focus, my freedom for my salvation. In Philippians, Paul tells us that God works within us and gives us the inclination to act according to His good pleasure. So, I was right! Being possessed by some form of the Almighty, be it the Holy Spirit, Jesus, or in this case, God, takes away our freedom to think for ourselves. Yet, figuring that out gives me no joy. This sentiment is further clarified in 1st Corinthians. After stating that our bodies are the temple of the holy spirit, ok, no surprise there, he goes on to say that we are not our own. That we were purchased at a price. Thus, we must honor God with our bodies. Therefore, God, either directly or indirectly through his henchmen the Holy Spirit or Christ, control, no, own, us.

Perhaps, not surprisingly, I’ve met those who are not disturbed by this. Actually, they find comfort in it. My friend Mary was like that. Having lived a life in her twenties, of debauchery and listlessness, the idea of being possessed and directed by the Holy Spirit gave her a level of control that she thought she was unable to impose by her own will. Yet, isn’t it interesting to note that she was controlling her own good behavior, but she assigned that ability to God. And, what’s so bad about that if it gave her peace and a better life? Well, imagine how much more confident she would have been, how much more she could have done with her life, if she had realized that she had that power within herself all along. Finally, Paul says that we have been purchased by God, obviously through Jesus’ death on the cross. Doesn’t that bother you? Didn’t we decide long ago that owning people was bad? Many people have told me that I’m overreacting, that the bible doesn’t really mean slavery. That Jesus saved us by his blood, which is a good thing. And, I would ask, is it a good thing that someone else had to die in order for me to live. I’d like to think that had I been around at that time, I would have attempted to stop His horrific death. Not celebrate it.

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