“Not Today, Pastor Pushy” (Acts 19:1–7)
When I was in Bible college, one weekend a bunch of us went to a friend’s church. His dad was the pastor—it was a Pentecostal church. He asked us to come forward so the congregation could pray for us students. There were about ten of us.
One by one, the pastor went down the line and prayed in tongues over us, and one by one my friends collapsed backward. Something they called being “slain in the Spirit.”
I was near the end of the line. Kim was right before me. When it was her turn, he put his hand on her head, said his emotionally charged babble and then—bam!—he pushed her on the head so hard her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground. I watched the whole thing. And honestly—my first thought was to shove my friend’s dad backward into the pews.
Kim was looking up at me from the floor, a little bewildered and stunned, but then she started laughing. That softened the moment a little. But when he came to me, I wasn’t falling for it—literally. I squared my feet and just stared him in the eyes like, “Not today, Pastor Pushy.”
I’m sure it made him feel powerful to manipulate people like Benny Hinn. He probably convinced himself that I was the unspiritual one because I resisted.
It’s a funny story but it’s also the kind of thing that can make you doubt all this church stuff.
So many people back then wanted us to think that’s what spiritual maturity looks like—some emotionally charged moment. A supernatural experience that’s as easy to fake as speaking nonsense and falling on the ground. Left me wondering, “If they’re willing to fake this, what else is fake?”
Now, I don’t have a problem with speaking in tongues. The Bible talks about it, so it happened, I’m sure it still happens. What I do have a problem with is turning the Holy Spirit into a magic trick or a merit badge. Like when people say, “If you don’t speak in tongues, you’re not spiritual enough—you’re missing out, probably not even saved.”
Because what happens then? People are going to fake it. They start babbling just to fit in. And then it’s not long before they start wondering, “Wait—am I faking this? Is everyone faking this? Is there any such thing as the Holy Spirit? Is any of this real?”
So now they’re doubly ashamed: first for not really having the special “gift,” and then for pretending they do. That’s not the Gospel. That’s spiritual bullying. That’s putting a show where grace should be. It pushes people to the floor and forces them to be hypocrites. It makes them doubt their salvation—doubt that God exists at all.
It’s so easy for us to get things like this wrong—to confuse outward emotion or spiritual activity with true faith. To treat the Holy Spirit like some kind of performance review instead of God dwelling in us. A gift of pure grace.
Any of us who have been a Christian for any time at all have been there, in one way or another.
Maybe we’ve been part of a church that measured holiness with a checklist—don’t drink, don’t chew, don’t date someone who do. Holiness by subtraction. If we avoid enough fun, we must be godly, right?
Or maybe like that emotionally charged church—where our spirituality is measured by volume and tears. Dancing and clapping and shouting AMEN on cue! The louder the prayer, the longer the altar call—the holier we are.
Either way, it’s the same problem. We confuse what we do—with what God has done for us.
We start thinking if we can just clean ourselves up, pray harder, read our Bible more, understand all the theology better, or feel more, then God will love us more. We end up trusting in what we do or feel or think instead of trusting in God.
And when we’re in the thick of it, we do what religious people always do: we start comparing and judging. We look around and think…
“Well, she cries every Sunday during prayers; I must not be as spiritual as her.”
“He raised both hands during worship—I only raised one.”
“I haven’t had a goosebump in three weeks; maybe God’s holy ghosting me.” Ha
The treadmill of guilt and performance—It’s exhausting. And it leads to two possible outcomes: pride or despair. We either think we’re faithing better than everyone else, or we feel like a fraud and a failure.
Either way, it’s all about me—not Jesus.
That’s what Paul runs into in Acts 19: disciples who’ve repented but haven’t yet realized the full joy of being redeemed. We’ve been going through the Book of Acts verse by verse and this week we start chapter 19…
Acts 19:1–7 (ESV)
And it happened that while Apollos was at Corinth, Paul passed through the inland country and came to Ephesus. There he found some disciples. And he said to them, “Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?” And they said, “No, we have not even heard that there is a Holy Spirit.” And he said, “Into what then were you baptized?” They said, “Into John’s baptism.” And Paul said, “John baptized with the baptism of repentance, telling the people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, Jesus.” On hearing this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. And when Paul had laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came on them, and they began speaking in tongues and prophesying. There were about twelve men in all.
Paul meets these twelve disciples in Ephesus and they start having some deep theological conversation about what it means to follow Jesus. Luke calls them disciples, which means they’re already Christians—already believe Jesus is the Messiah, the Savior, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world—they’re saved but they’ve never heard of the Holy Spirit and they’ve only been baptized into John’s baptism—which wasn’t in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, like Jesus commanded.
John’s baptism was just a baptism of repentance—it was all about, “Turn away from your sin. Get your life right. The Messiah is coming.” It was a good thing! It prepared people for Jesus’ arrival. They probably knew about the cross and the resurrection.
Comparing the baptism of John to Christian baptism that Jesus commanded in the Great Commission, Luther said this,
“This is the difference between the Baptism of Christ and that of John: In John’s Baptism forgiveness is promised; in Christ’s Baptism it is given.”
But when Paul asks, “Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?” they’re like, “The Holy what are you talking about, man?” They were still living in an incomplete story. They saw the trailer, but they hadn’t seen the movie.
So Paul takes them deeper. Finishes their baptism in Jesus’ name, and then Paul lays hands on them, and the Holy Spirit comes upon them. They speak in tongues and prophesy—not as proof that they’re finally “real Christians,” but a sign and wonder just like what happened in Acts chapter two.
In Acts, tongues only appear three times—and each time it’s when a new group is being welcomed into the Church. It’s a sign of unity, not a spirituality competition. Each time it happens, God is expanding the church: Jews at Pentecost, Romans at Caesarea, and now these Greek followers of John the Baptist in Asia Minor, Ephesus. Luke’s point isn’t that we should all speak in tongues—it’s a sign that the same Spirit joins all believers into one body.
This is like their own little private Pentecost.
Also, in the Book of Acts, speaking in tongues means they start saying the Gospel in languages they didn’t know. Actual human languages. Like if I suddenly started preaching in Spanish and only Adan could understand what I was saying. That would be impressive because I don’t speak Spanish.
Now I know some people talk about tongues as a private prayer language—what Paul describes as “speaking mysteries in the Spirit” or “groans too deep for words.” I don’t have any problem with that. If you ever find yourself so moved in prayer that you run out of words and just groan or mumble before God, that’s fine. Romans 8 says the Spirit intercedes for us that way. Go for it.
What I do have a problem with is making “speaking in tongues” the gold standard of spirituality—like if you don’t pray that way, you’re a second-class Christian.
But these guys started prophesying to the surrounding people in foreign languages they didn’t actually know how to speak.
I would love the gift of tongues and to be sent to Japan to just walk around talking perfect Japanese telling people about Jesus—having no idea what I was saying. I’d be like [Fake Japanese… Jesus] Then they’d start talking to me in Japanese, asking questions, and I’d be like, “Domo Arigato Mr Roboto.” “Kenishiwa.”
This is the only example of re-baptism in the whole New Testament — and it’s not really that the baptisms were being re-done, they were being completed.
BAPTISM = “JUNK DRAWER”
Let’s talk about baptism for a minute, because there’s a lot of confusion about the word.
In the New Testament, baptism is like a junk drawer—it’s a placeholder for all kinds of stuff. It means more than just the water ritual. Sometimes it does mean the water ritual itself, like when Philip baptizes the Ethiopian eunuch. But other times it’s shorthand for the entire salvation package: repentance, forgiveness, connection to the life, death and resurrection with Christ, washing, renewal, adoption, being born again, washed in the blood, becoming part of the church, exorcism (because baptism is God making His claim against the devil) and being sealed with the Holy Spirit.
The Bible uses the word in all those ways.
In Romans 6, baptism means being buried and raised with Christ. The old self under sin’s condemnation is dead and gone—we’re raised into a totally new life.
In Galatians 3, it’s putting on Christ. Like changing clothes. When God looks at us, He doesn’t see our messy performance record, He sees Jesus’ perfect record. This is the great exchange of His identity for ours.
In Titus 3, it’s the washing of regeneration—new life, born again.
In 1st Peter 3, it’s the appeal for a clean conscience—in other words, made innocent. This hits the performance anxiety head on—our conscience is clean because of Christ, not because of how good we’ve been.
In 1st Corinthians 12, it’s being baptized into one body by the Spirit—which means joining the church (the congregation, the people of God).
That’s a pretty full junk drawer!
So when we talk about baptism, we’re not just talking about the water ritual—where through water and the word of promise we receive all these things by grace. We’re talking about God’s entire work of salvation poured over us and into us—His forgiveness, His Spirit, His adoption, His promise of eternal life as a citizen of the kingdom of heaven.
When you were baptized, you were connected to Jesus in His baptism, and God said the same thing to you He said to His Son at the Jordan river:
“You are my beloved Son. In you I am well pleased.”
Son, because male or female, you will inherit like a son! You are a beloved child of God. Baptism is God’s claim on you.
This is Christian baptism. This is a sacramental understanding.
Baptism is like when the preacher says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” It’s like when the judge tells an immigrant, “You are now a full citizen of the country entitled to all the rights and privileges thereof.” Baptism begins your life in Christ; Communion sustains it.
COMMUNION — GOD’S GRACE YOU CAN TASTE
And while we’re talking about it: If baptism is the adoption certificate, Communion is the family dinner table.
The Lord’s Supper is another mysterious, embodied way God applies His grace to us. In the bread and the wine, Christ gives us His true body and blood—not just symbolically, but sacramentally—for the forgiveness of sins, for strengthening our faith, and for binding us together as His people.
Just like baptism is God’s word of promise attached to water, Communion is His word of mercy attached to bread and wine. It’s grace you can literally taste.
You don’t come to the Table to perform. You come because you know you need forgiveness.
It’s where you are fed. With your brothers and sisters. Tasting forgiveness. Drinking of mercy. We remember what He’s done for us, and God remembers what He promised to us, re—members us. We are members of His holy church and the meal of communion creates a union with Him and us, and all of us with each other. We’re reconnected, re-membered. Jesus meets us here to remind us: “You belong. You’re forgiven. I am with you.”
And the access to the Table, the Communion Table, was paid for, at great cost, on the cross. Jesus paid for your access. You couldn’t afford it in a million years. You didn’t earn it in any way. It is all by grace. All a free gift.
Don’t be confused, all these benefits still have to be received by faith, it’s not automatic. We’re saved by grace, true, but it’s still through faith. We still have to believe to receive. But…
If anyone has ever tried to make you feel like you had to earn God’s Spirit—or prove how spiritual you are with your emotions—I’m sorry, you’ve been misled. That’s not faith; that’s manipulation. Superstition.
Maybe people have told you, or you’ve thought, “Just repent harder, or worship with more enthusiasm, or faith stronger—then you’ll finally be spiritual.” But that’s not the Christian way. That’s the hamster wheel of works righteousness and pietism. And it will wear you out.
Even Paul says in Galatians 3:3, “Having begun by the Spirit, are you now being perfected by the flesh?” In other words: stop trying to finish what God already completed.
Jeremiah says it a lot stronger:
“Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength.” [Jeremiah 17:5]
Here’s the truth: if you have called on the name of Jesus to be saved, then you’ve already received everything, you’ve already received the Holy Spirit. You don’t need another spiritual experience, a louder prayer, or a shove on the forehead to prove it. Beware of groups who insist on a second ‘baptism’ in the Spirit or in their church! Beware people who encourage you to chase after ecstatic experiences to feel more spiritual.
Your baptism into Christ was not just symbolic—it did what God said it did. You were buried with Jesus, raised with Jesus, sealed by the Holy Spirit. You are a beloved child of God, and nothing can separate you from His love.
And in Communion, Jesus gives you His body and blood as a physical, tangible reminder that grace is not an idea—it’s a gift that comes into this world to save you.
PRACTICAL STEPS (Faith in Action)
We don’t have to chase signs or experiences to prove we’re saved; baptism and God’s Word of promise declare we already belong to Him. Rest in your baptismal identity.
When you feel unworthy, or discouraged, whisper to yourself: “I am baptized. (Everything that means) I’m a beloved child of God. He’s pleased with me. All my stains are washed away.” We’re united with Jesus in His life, death and resurrection; His identity of being God’s beloved becomes our identity.
We’re going to receive Communion in a few minutes, it isn’t for people who have it all together; it’s for people who need what Jesus wants to give them desperately. Come to the Table hungry.
And reject spiritual bullies. If someone tells you you’re missing something because you haven’t had some experience they had, remind them that salvation isn’t based on experiences—it’s grounded in Christ alone.
Being spiritual isn’t about holy goosebumps. The Spirit doesn’t just make us feel all mystical for our personal jollies—He fills us, empowers us, and sends us out to say and do things for someone else’s benefit—to be spiritual is to love and serve people. To obey everything Jesus commanded—which is to love each other the way He loved us. To be spiritual is to exhibit the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. That’s what it means to be spiritual. To be faithful. That’s where we need to focus our spiritual energy—not on trying to outdo each other with enthusiastic Holy Ghost jazzercise.
We don’t perform for God’s favor—we’ve already got that. We love and serve others, we raise our hands and sing in worship—it all flows from thankfulness.
Because the Spirit Who descended like a dove and landed on Jesus at the Jordan now lives in you. The Father Who said, “This is my beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased,” now says, “You are my beloved child.” And the Son of Man, Jesus Christ, who stood in the water for you also went to the cross for you and gave everything so you can live in His Father’s house forever.
I’ve always thought it was strange that God saved me and then put me in a Charismatic Pentecostal church when I was a teenager. Because I was always way too reserved, and it always made me feel like an outsider—like I wasn’t as spiritual as they were.
And I’ve probably come off like I’m putting down people who raise their hands and sing or get emotional and jump up and down expressively in worship—I’m not! I’m sorry if you heard that, please accept my apology. I love those things! I think it’s all beautiful. I’m not trying to curb anyone’s enthusiasm. We are a charismatic church, we just tend to be a little reserved about it.
So I’m really talking to the people who maybe feel less spiritual because they’re less expressive.
If you ever feel like you’re missing something spiritually—like you need a new experience or a louder miracle—remember this: God already gave you everything.
Baptism tells you who you are.
Communion reminds you of Whose you are.
And the Holy Spirit empowers you to be the person He called you out of the world to be.
You don’t need to fake it. You don’t need to chase it.
You just need to rest in it.
It’s not a performance. It’s not a competition. It’s salvation.
It’s grace.
Amen.