Homily, Amazed, Perplexed, Bewildered
The Day of Pentecost, 2025
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church
Plant City, FL
The Rev. Derek M Larson, TSSF
Today’s Lectionary Readings:
In the name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Oh, to see the world through the eyes of a three year old. The constant wonder. The persistent curiosity. The continual amazement at the simplest of things. That’s how my son, Alaster, sees the world. One of his favorite phrases is, “What’s that?” Pointing to both the most common and most extraordinary of things equally, “What’s that?”
To see the world in such a way not only requires attention and observation, but an unassuming humility that comes easily to a three year old—to know keenly that you don’t have all the answers. That the world is a mysterious, beautiful, and complex place that always has more to reveal.
Often, we adults, sadly, lose that posture. We exchange wonder for familiarity. Awe for predictability. Curiosity for overly simplistic assumptions. It’s uncomfortable to not have all the answers. It makes us feel vulnerable when we don’t know what to think or make of something. And so often we grasp for easy answers or limit our interactions to people and places, things and ideas that are within our limited experience, things that are in our comfort zone.
And it feels quite natural, actually. Routines, habits, realistic expectations. Those are the things that keep us grounded—that keep us safe. Feelings of being confused, perplexed, or bewildered are naturally things we try to avoid or resolve to maintain our security.
And yet…oh, to see the world through the eyes of a three year old. The continual beauty. The perplexing amazement. The mysterious grace. What we lose by trading bewilderment with self-preservation!
We see both of these perspectives in our reading from Acts today. It is the Day of Pentecost, and the Holy Spirit pours out upon the apostles in a bewildering way. There is a rushing wind inside the walls of a house. There are tongues of fire hovering over their heads. There are languages spoken that had never been learned. It sounds like an otherworldly dream. Like a vision of fantasy. Unrealistic. Unexpected. Outside of the ordinary.
You can imagine how such an experience would feel intimidating and confusing. And that’s exactly how the passage describes the crowd’s reaction when they encounter it. Some were amazed, perplexed, and bewildered, like little Alaster asking, “What’s that?” And some were skeptical, pessimistic, and perhaps prone to “realism”, saying, “they’ve just had too much drink.”
Do you see the difference between these two postures? Some allowed their uncomfortable confusion to mingle with awe and wonder. And some fled that discomfort by rushing to judgment and settling for easy answers. And those who rested in the mystery witnessed the very movement of the Holy Spirit and their lives were forever transformed. But those who explained it away missed out on the very presence of God. Their posture in the face of unknowing made all the difference.
To encounter the Holy Spirit is to come face to face with mystery. And if we are to be transformed by mystery we have to allow our realities and expectations and predictable ways of seeing the world to be stretched and transcended. We have to be okay with not having all the answers. We have to be okay with living in the cloud of unknowing.
To be shaped by the Holy Spirit is to let go of the idol of certainty and with awe and wonder submit ourselves to the God of mystery.
For mystery is a gift.
“In those days, says the Lord, I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh, and your children will prophesy, your young people will see visions, and your old people will dream dreams.” They will open themselves to imagination. They will see past the world as it is to dream of what it could be. They will let go of prepackaged ideas to taste the cosmos as offered by God.
The great gift of the Holy Spirit is the mystery that leads us to that life in God we could never have imagined on our own. And it is our posture in the face of unknowing that makes all the difference.
The poet Mary Oliver put it this way: “Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” The mystic Rumi put it this way: “The real work of religion is permanent astonishment.” The St. Peter’s mission statement puts it this way: “we invite spiritual curiosity.” In other words, to open ourselves to the mystery that is the Holy Spirit.
So what do you think you know about this world? What do you think you know about yourself? What do you think you know about your neighbor? Are you willing to allow the Holy Spirit to upend that? Are you willing to open yourself to the mystery of God’s divine action as you have not yet imagined it? Are you ready to be amazed, bewildered, perplexed? To see the world through the eyes of a three year old, to see through the eyes of God?
On this Pentecost Sunday, give yourself over to the Holy Spirit and allow the mystery of God to make you amazed, perplexed, bewildered in each and every moment. Amen.
Questions for Reflection
- How often do I find myself asking “What’s that?” about the world around me, and what are some examples of things I can explore with a sense of childlike wonder?
- In what areas of my life do I feel the need for certainty and easy answers? How might letting go of these needs open me up to new experiences and perspectives?
- Can I identify moments when I have chosen judgment or skepticism over wonder? How did this choice affect my relationships and understanding of God’s presence?
- What fears or discomforts arise within me when faced with the unknown, and how can I cultivate a sense of awe and curiosity in the midst of that confusion?
- How do I currently invite spiritual curiosity into my life, and what practices can I adopt to deepen my engagement with the mystery of the Holy Spirit?
Thoughts on Faith 