This Sunday in the Christian church is The Day of Pentecost. You remember the story: It was Monday; we don’t know the time of day; we’re not told if it was raining. We’re not sure of the exact location. But we do know the disciples were scared out of their gourd, They had locked the doors, which leads one to think they had pulled curtains over the windows. It’s not a particularly flattering picture of the future founders of the faith.

There they gathered in fear, and suddenly, the story goes, a mighty wind blew through the place. Suddenly fire appeared and divided itself into tongues that danced above the heads of each. It caused quite a commotion it seems. Can you imagine those disciples dancing about in panic as these flames chased them about the room?

There’s more to the story than that. The disciples begin speaking in languages that everyone from a variety of countries could understand, and Peter begins preaching. But for today we’ll hold our place at the tongues of fire dancing about.

This year we pastors have a particular problem. The Day of Pentecost is also Mother’s Day. It’s a conundrum. Pentecost is an important day in the church calendar. We liturgical types feel a tremendous sense of obligation to preach on Pentecost. But, then again, usually the majority of the people in the pews are mothers, and one cannot ignore the mothers. I’ve talked with several pastors who are perplexed as to what to do.

It’s not a problem for me.

I have no difficulty relating the tongues of fire that came down upon the disciples at Pentecost with Mother’s Day. I have no problem relating because if you were birthed by my mother you grew up well acquainted with a tongue of fire. The apostles have nothing on me. I spent all my formative years beneath a tongue of fire.

“Hey, you do that again and I’ll snatch a knot on you head. Do you understand me?”

“I brought you into this world and I can take you out. Don’t you ever think I owe you anything, young man!”

“Where in the hell did you get the idea you could use foul language in this house?”

“You don’t know what trouble is; but I’ll show you what trouble is. You have no idea how much trouble I can make for you.”

“You’re going to regret the day you were born if you do that again.”

“Do you have any idea the pain I bore to bring your ungrateful soul into this world?”

“You take this knife outside and you cut a switch from that hedge, and you had better not bring back some little twig because I intend for you to feel the pain of the punishment you’re about to get. Now hurry up.”

“I don’t give a flip what other mothers let their children do. You are not the child of other mothers. You are my child and you’d better learn to deal with it.”

“Give me a break? A break? I am the best break you will ever have!”

There’s another parallel to those tongues of fire and my mother. Those tongues of fire had been promised the disciples as something that would give them strength and be with them always. So it was with my mother.

“Someday, when I’m gone you’ll feel my spirit with you and you will remember how much I love you.”