7.27.25 - Sermon written and preached by Leigh Rachal @ FPC Abbeville, LA

(Texts: Ezekiel 37:1–14, John 3:1–8, Acts 2:1–4)

When someone dies, we say, “They took their last breath.”

We say this not just because it’s poetic or euphemistic, 

but because it’s true.

Breath is life.

And life is breath.

We don’t live because we have muscles or memories or movement.

We live because we breathe.

And Scripture tells us that God is the giver of that breath.

In Genesis 2, when God forms the first human from the dust of the earth,

the creature doesn’t become alive until God breathes into its nostrils.

So from the very beginning, it has been the breath of God that animates us - not just air, but Spirit.

The word is Ruach in Hebrew.

The same Hebrew word can be translated to English as breath, wind, or spirit.

And so we read that the ruach of God hovered over the waters in creation.

The ruach of God breathed life into the first human.

The ruach of God speaks through prophets.

And the ruach of God stirs us awake even now.

In Ezekiel 37, the prophet is taken by the Spirit into a valley full of dry bones.

Not just dead bodies. But Bones.

Disjointed.

Scattered.

These bones had been lifeless for so long that they had become dry and brittle.

Then God asks Ezekiel,

“Mortal, can these bones live?”

And. What kind of question is that?

Of course they can’t. 

Bones are bones.

Dead is dead.

But Ezekiel doesn’t say yes or no.

He says, “O Lord God, you know.”

Because Ezekiel knows what we sometimes forget:

that God has a habit of doing impossible things.

So God tells him to prophesy to the bones.

To speak over them.

To declare that the breath will come again.

And as he does, there’s a rattling.

A sound.

A stirring.

The bones come together—bone to bone, tendon to tendon, flesh to flesh.

But still, there is no breath.

Until God says,

“Prophesy to the breath… and the breath came into them, and they lived.”

This isn’t just a story about ancient Israel.

It’s a story about us.

It’s about what happens when faith dries out.

When our religion becomes a pile of well-organized bones, but nothing is moving.

We can have the structure.

We can have the habits.

We can have the doctrine and the denomination and the details—

but without the breath, without the Spirit, 

it’s still just dust.

Sometimes, our faith can start to feel familiar but hollow.

We say the right words,

but forget to listen for the whisper.

We follow the forms,

but lose sight of the fire.

We recite the creeds,

but forget the Comforter.

We talk about God,

but struggle to walk with God.

That’s what I mean when I say we need to “Reclaim Faith from the trap of a Spiritless Religion.”

We’re not throwing out the bones.

But we are asking for the Breath of God to bring them back to life...

Jesus had a conversation like that with Nicodemus.

A respected religious leader.

A man who knew the law, taught the people, followed the customs.

But he came to Jesus at night - 

maybe because he was afraid of what people would think,

or maybe because his soul was tired

and he wasn’t sure the faith he had was the faith he needed.

He says to Jesus, “We know you’re a teacher from God…”

And Jesus immediately responds, “No one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.”

Nicodemus is confused, so Jesus tries to clarify:

“You must be born of water and Spirit.”

And then Jesus says something even more mysterious and beautiful:

“The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

The Holy Spirit cannot be domesticated.

She doesn’t follow our rules or show up on demand.

We don’t own her.

We can’t schedule her.

We won’t be able to predict her.

But we can feel her.

We can hear the sound of her presence.

And we can be changed by her movement.

Alright.

Now we fast forward to Pentecost. 

Because we can’t talk about the Spirit without talking about Pentecost!

The followers of Jesus are gathered, unsure of what comes next.

They’ve seen the resurrected Christ,

they’ve heard his commission,

but they have not yet received what Jesus promised them. 

So they are waiting -

not because they’re lazy,

but because they know that real power doesn’t come from their own strength. 

And then suddenly….

there’s a sound.

Like a rush of wind.

And the room is filled.

Tongues of fire appear.

And the disciples begin to speak, and sing, they pour out into the streets—

not because they figured out a strategy,

but because the Spirit showed up.

That’s what WE need.

We don’t need better worship performances.

We don’t need more efficient denominational infrastructure.

We don’t need a slicker / more modern version of what we’ve always done.

We need breath and fire. 

We need to be born of Water and Spirit. 

We need Gods wind to fill us.

We need the Holy Spirit to show up and breathe into our dry bones.

To whisper into our confusion like Jesus did with Nicodemus.

To fill our churches and the people of God with holy fire.

Because without the Spirit, we’re just performing. 

We’re checking the boxes

and managing an institution.

But with the Spirit—

we are alive.

We are brave.

We are carried.

We are transformed.

The good news is that

The breath of God is still blowing.

Of course, we cannot possess the Spirit.

But we can be possessed by Her.

And when we are—

we live differently.

We love differently.

We become people of wind and breath and grace.

So today….. may the Spirt blow through us. 

Let OUR dry bones rattle….

And may we reclaim a faith full of abundant life. 

A life that is Spirit-filled and Spirit-led: 

born of God’s breath,

and animated by God’s wind, blowing wild and free…. 

Because with Gods ruach blowing through us,

we too can calm the waters of chaos

and co-create a world that is Good. 

With Gods ruach blowing through us,

we can offer healing and hope

to the hurt and confused world around us. 

With God’s ruach blowing through us,

we can transform tired and fear-filled places and spaces

into gardens of renewal—

where dry bones dance,

where strangers become neighbors,

where weary hearts catch their breath.

So let us go…. 

not with fear, but with fire.

And may our very lives proclaim that:

The Spirit is still moving.

The Church is still rising.

And love is still being poured out: wild and free and full of grace. Amen.