The Pentecost I never saw until Pastor Kristin and Father Greg showed me this weekend

The Rev. Kristin Hutson preaching on Pentecost Sunday. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

This Pentecost, something shifted in my soul.

I’ve studied the Bible for years. I’ve read the Acts of the Apostles more times than I can count. But it wasn’t until I heard the Rev. Kristin Hutson preach today that it finally hit me—like fire falling from heaven.

She opened up the Pentecost story in a way I had never seen before. And what she showed us was this!

When the Holy Spirit came down like tongues of fire, and the disciples started speaking in every language known on Earth, God was making something loud and clear.

The Church is for everybody.

The Church was meant to be global and far-reaching.

Hell, that’s the where the word “catholic” comes from—as in “the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church” we Presbyterians belong to!

Not just one people.

Not just one race.

Not just one tribe, or one nation, or one political party.

The Holy Spirit didn’t come down to divide people—it came down to unite them.

Pentecost is God’s way of saying: There is no border in the Kingdom of God.

No wall high enough, no law cruel enough, no hatred strong enough to stop what the Spirit is doing.

So when folks claim to follow Jesus but spend their time building higher walls, closing borders, and separating God’s children based on skin color, nationality, or who they love—that is not Christianity.

That is something else entirely.

That is Christian nationalism!

Christian nationalism is a lie straight from the pit.

Let me be clear:

To follow Jesus is to tear down walls—not build them.

To walk with the Spirit is to speak the language of love—not fear.

And when you use the name of Christ to push people out, shut people up, or throw people away—you are not serving Christ.

You are standing against Him.

But what about BLM and Pride parades?

Some try to say that when we cry out “Black Lives Matter” or “Trans Lives Matter,” or when we celebrate LGBTQ Pride, we’re creating division.

That’s a lie.

Let me tell you the truth!

Those cries are the voices of the oppressed.

They are shouts of survival in a world that tries to silence them.

They are not dividing the Church.

They are reminding the Church of who Jesus really is—the one who sat with outcasts, welcomed the rejected, and lifted up the brokenhearted.

So no—it is not the same thing.

It is not a fair comparison.

It is a false equivalency, and it must be called out for what it is.

As Pastor Kristin preached, we are living in a time where people who claim to be Christian are dragging others out of schools, out of churches, out of communities—just because they don’t fit a narrow, hateful mold.

That is not the Spirit of God.

That is a spirit of control.

Of cruelty.

Of fear.

And it must end.

Let me tell you about Father Greg

Just before Pentecost, I joined my adopted Midwest family to say goodbye to a beloved pastor, the Rev. Gregory Greiten of the Archdiocese of Milwaukee.

After 14 years of faithful service, he’s been called to lead a larger parish in Pewaukee, Wis. closer to his home.

We gathered with heavy hearts and tearful joy, hearing story after story about how Father Greg welcomed the Hmong community, stood with the poor, and preached justice from the pulpit—not just in Milwaukee but also in mission work in Honduras.

But there’s something more about Father Greg that needs to be said.

Father Greg is a Pentecost preacher in his own right.

Years ago, he did something few in his position have dared to do!

He came out as an openly gay man.

A Roman Catholic priest, standing tall in his truth, declaring that God made him and called him just as he is.

That, my friends, is what the fire of Pentecost looks like today.

Just like the apostles, the Spirit fell on him and gave him boldness to speak.

He didn’t keep silent.

He didn’t shrink back.

He stood up and said, “Here I am.”

And in doing so, he struck at the very heart of the forces Pastor Kristin warned us about—fear, division, exclusion, and the ugly lie of religious purity.

When Father Greg told the truth about who he is, he didn’t just free himself.

He opened the door for others.

He gave voice to the silenced.

He brought light into dark places.

That is what Pentecost power does.

As an openly gay ordained Presbyterian elder myself, I saw in Father Greg not just a fellow presbyter—but a brother who let the Holy Spirit set him ablaze with courage.

He reminds us all that the Spirit doesn’t only speak through those in power—it speaks through those who risk everything for truth.

That’s what the Church needs more of.

Not gatekeepers.

Not wall-builders.

But fire-starters.

Truth-tellers.

Bridge-builders.

People who speak the language of love, justice, and freedom.

After 2000 years, Pentecost is still happening

Let me tell you! Pentecost didn’t stop in Acts, Chapter 2.

It’s still happening.

It’s happening when Pastor Kristin gets up and tells the truth to a weary, broken world.

It’s happening when Father Greg lives his faith out loud in a church that too often tells people like us to sit down and be quiet.

It’s happening every time a young trans person walks through church doors and hears someone say, “You are loved.”

It’s happening when walls fall and the Gospel breaks loose.

The Spirit is still moving.

Still burning.

Still calling.

Still disrupting.

Still building the kind of Church that looks like heaven and sounds like liberation.

Don’t you try to stop it.

Don’t you resist it.

Let the fire fall.

Let the wind blow.

Let the Church rise up and live like it believes what happened on that Pentecost day.

The Rev. Gregory Greiten wishes his parishioners well at his thanksgiving reception. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

Northwest Milwaukee Catholic Parishes chairwoman Valeria Banks shares the impact of Father Greg’s leadership. Photo: Gerald Farinas.