I had arrived in the old city for the festival.
People from all over the known world had come. Some had stayed on from the previous festival, Passover, 50 days earlier.
Rumours had spread every where about what happened. Apparently the rebel leader Jesus had been crucified and then had come to back to life. Our Jewish leaders told us that the body had been stolen by his disciples but we heard later that his grave had been under Roman guard.
As well as that rumours had been spreading that he had been seen walking and talking with people.
Apparently he had even had a fish breakfast on the beach.
Things just didn’t add up.
Jerusalem had become a magnet to everyone wanting to know more. I had travelled from Rome and I couldn’t understand much of what was being said.
So I was heading up to the temple when all of a sudden there was this wild but gentle wind that blew down the street.
Dust filled the air.
The breeze flowed in to quite a large house. The doors were all shut so no one could get in, but the house shook. I managed to squeeze up to a window and peer through a crack.
There must have been about 120 people crammed in this room and it was on fire. Flames of fire danced and bobbed around the room and then settled on their heads. The room glowed with warmth and light, joy and peace.
What I would say to my therapist!
Then they started talking. They came outside all fired up and spoke to us in our own language. Word for word everyone understood exactly what was being said.
Any thing lost in translation? No way, I fully understood everything. They were talking about the incredible works of God.
Some people suggested they were drunk. No way! They were all very sober.
The message they spoke talked of a freedom found only in Jesus Christ.
They glowed with joy.
One of their leaders, Peter, got up and spoke to us. What he said cut to my heart. I gave my life to Christ, was baptised and forever changed. 3000 of us turned to Christ that day.
This was the start of my new life in Christ.