I suspect that every parent eventually deals with the question of focus versus shared attention. I can still remember arguing with my parents about homework. They wanted the television off. I insisted I could multitask. “I can do both,” I insisted, “I can keep one eye on my homework and one eye on the TV.”
Looking back…I’m pretty sure I was learning neither math nor life particularly well. My parents understood something I didn’t understand yet: shared attention usually weakens both things.
Years later, in college, three friends and I made a deal. Every Friday afternoon, we went to the library. We stayed there until all our assignments were finished for Monday. Sometimes we stayed until evening. But once the work was done…we were free.
We had discovered something important: focus creates freedom.
There is sound science behind our discovery.
Researchers now tell us something many of us suspected long before studies confirmed it: human beings are not especially good at multitasking. What we often call “multitasking” is usually rapid task-switching. Our brains bounce from one demand to another, attempting to keep up with competing priorities. Every switch costs us something — attention, energy, clarity, and peace.
When I was in graduate school studying computer science, I worked on developing a new operating system. Ironically, my assignment involved coding part of the multitasking function. Most people imagine computers doing many things simultaneously. But that was before parallel processing, so computers handled one task at a time. Fortunately, the central processor switched tasks so quickly that it created the illusion of simultaneous activity. Yet every switch required work. The system had to store the current context, load the next context, redirect attention, and repeat the process again and again.
Computers became incredibly fast at task-switching. Humans did not.
And yet modern life demands more switching from us than ever before. Notifications interrupt conversations. Headlines interrupt thoughts. Fear interrupts prayer. Breaking news interrupts rest. We move from text messages to emails, from social media to television, from one crisis to another, without ever fully processing what came before.
The average person is bombarded with more information in a single day than previous generations encountered in weeks. Much of that information arrives emotionally charged — urgent, angry, fearful, and designed to provoke an immediate reaction rather than thoughtful reflection. Even journalists whose full-time job is following current events admit they cannot keep up with the constant flood of developments. Before one crisis can be investigated, another one appears, demanding attention.
After a while, the chaos begins shaping us.
Not because we agree with what is happening around us, but because constant fragmentation changes the human spirit. It becomes harder to think clearly, harder to listen carefully, harder to pray deeply, harder to love generously, and harder to remain hopeful. Perhaps most dangerously, it becomes harder to distinguish noise from truth. The world scatters.
This is not just a political problem or a technological problem. It is a moral and spiritual problem.
There is a difference between necessary responsibility and destructive fragmentation. Parents raising children understand this well. Nurses, teachers, caregivers, and pastors understand it too. Some responsibilities naturally overlap because life itself is complicated. The problem is not responsibility. The problem is becoming internally divided — pulled in so many directions that we lose the ability to become fully present anywhere.
Some moments require undivided attention. A grieving friend. A child sharing something important. Worship. Prayer. Communion. Discernment. Love. These moments cannot thrive under divided attention.
Perhaps the greatest danger of constant distraction is not merely exhaustion. Perhaps the greater danger is spiritual unavailability.
Scripture consistently describes the Holy Spirit as a gift. And gifts must be received. Not forced. Not earned. Received. But receiving requires some degree of attentiveness. If our minds and hearts are endlessly fragmented, we may still hear noise all around us while missing the invitation hidden within it.
Which makes the story of Pentecost far more relevant than we often realize.
The story of Pentecost in Acts is one of the strangest and most beautiful moments in scripture. Luke tells us that the followers of Jesus were gathered together when suddenly a sound “like the blowing of a violent wind” filled the house. Then came what appeared to be “tongues of fire” resting on each person present. They began speaking in different languages as crowds from all over the known world gathered in amazement and confusion.
Some were astonished. Others were skeptical. A few dismissed the entire scene by accusing the disciples of being drunk.
At first glance, Pentecost feels chaotic. Voices overlap. Languages collide. Fire appears. Crowds gather in confusion. It hardly resembles the quiet, orderly worship services many of us have come to expect in church.
But perhaps that is exactly the point.
Pentecost is not the Holy Spirit creating chaos. Pentecost is the Holy Spirit transforming chaos into shared understanding. The miracle is not simply that people spoke. The deeper miracle is that people understood one another.
People from different regions, cultures, and languages suddenly found themselves hearing the same message clearly. In a world divided by geography, politics, economics, fear, and identity, the Holy Spirit gathered scattered people into a shared experience of grace.
Scripture consistently describes the Spirit this way.
In Genesis, creation begins in chaos. The earth is described as formless and empty while darkness covers the deep waters. Yet the Spirit of God hovers over the chaos, and from that disorder God begins creating rhythm, beauty, life, and order. The world scatters.
The Spirit gathers. The Spirit creates. The Spirit restores.
The Spirit brings life where fragmentation once ruled.
That same pattern appears again at Pentecost.
Before the Spirit creates harmony, the moment itself appears overwhelming and disorienting. From the outside, the scene looks noisy and confusing. Yet underneath the noise, God is forming a new community. The Spirit is gathering people who had been separated by language, fear, and suspicion into one body.
Perhaps that is why Pentecost still matters so deeply today.
We are living in a fragmented age. Families struggle to listen to one another. Communities divide easily. Outrage has become a political strategy. Social media rewards reaction instead of reflection. Many of us consume so much noise every day that we no longer know how to sit quietly long enough to hear anything clearly.
And yet the Holy Spirit still gathers.
The Spirit gathers our scattered attention. The Spirit gathers wounded communities. The Spirit gathers anxious hearts. The Spirit gathers people who have forgotten how to listen.
This is why scripture connects the Spirit with peace, wisdom, discernment, unity, and love. The work of the Spirit does not end in fragmentation. The Spirit brings reconciliation and restoration.
That does not mean the Spirit removes passion, energy, or conviction. And it certainly doesn’t remove diversity. Pentecost itself is loud, emotional, and disruptive. But there is a difference between holy disruption and destructive chaos. One scatters people apart. The other gathers people together around truth, grace, and love.
The disciples were not multitasking their way into Pentecost. They were gathered together, waiting, praying, attentive, and open to receive what God was giving.
Perhaps that matters more than we realize.
Since the Holy Spirit is a gift, like all gifts, the Spirit must be received. Not forced. Not earned. Received. But receiving requires attentiveness. If our lives are endlessly fragmented, we may still hear the noise surrounding Pentecost while missing the invitation hidden within it.
Maybe that is why the Spirit so often speaks in moments of gathered attention — prayer, worship, silence, communion, listening, rest, and community. These are the moments when the noise begins to settle enough for truth to be heard again.
Pentecost reminds us that God gathers what the world scatters.
Imagine what might happen if the church became one of the few remaining places in society where people were fully present.
Not perfect. Not uniform. Not always in agreement. But present. Listening deeply instead of reacting instantly. Learning to discern instead of simply consuming outrage. Refusing to let fear and fragmentation shape the human spirit.
That vision sits at the heart of Pentecost.
The miracle of Pentecost is not that everyone suddenly became the same. Different languages remained. Different cultures remained. Different perspectives remained. Yet somehow the Holy Spirit created understanding instead of division.
Human empires often demand sameness. The Holy Spirit creates unity without destroying uniqueness.
Amazed and confused, they kept asking each other, “What does this mean?”
Acts 2:1–13
That truth continued throughout the life of the early church. The Apostle Paul later described the church as one body with many parts, empowered by the same Spirit but gifted in different ways. Diversity was not a problem for the early church to eliminate. Diversity became evidence of the Spirit’s creative work among the people.
The Holy Spirit consistently breaks down rigid barriers that human beings build to separate themselves from one another.
Years ago, one of my seminary professors shared a quote I have never forgotten: “The Holy Spirit is the force that removes the bolts holding down the pews.” I have always loved that image because the Spirit does disrupt things.
The Spirit disrupts injustice. It disrupts racism. The Spirit disrupts oppression. Pentecost certainly disrupted things. But there is a difference between holy disruption and destructive chaos.
Destructive chaos scatters people apart.
Holy disruption gathers people toward deeper truth, deeper compassion, deeper courage, and deeper community.
When Jesus teaches us to love our enemies, welcome strangers, forgive freely, and care for those society overlooks, He is not asking us to violate the design of creation. He is teaching us how creation itself was meant to flourish. The Spirit does not fear diversity. The Spirit organizes diversity into community. The fruits of the Holy Spirit include diversity, equity, and inclusion.
Perhaps that is why Pentecost still feels so relevant today. We are surrounded by systems that profit from outrage, fear, division, and constant distraction. Entire industries compete for our attention because attention has become one of the world’s most valuable resources. But the Spirit calls us toward another rhythm — one shaped by attentiveness, reconciliation, wisdom, compassion, and shared humanity.
Imagine a church where people gave one another their full attention. Imagine conversations where listening mattered more than winning. Imagine families reclaiming meals without screens. Imagine worship becoming a place where exhausted people could finally breathe again. Imagine communities where strangers are treated as neighbors instead of threats.
Imagine people learning once again how to sit quietly long enough to hear the voice of God beneath all the noise.
That kind of life may appear strange in a fragmented world. Then again, the first Pentecost looked strange too.
At the end of The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, John Mark Comer offers practical suggestions for slowing down and recovering healthier spiritual rhythms. That matters because rhythms are rarely formed accidentally. The patterns shaping our lives are usually the patterns we repeatedly practice.
Most of us cannot simply walk away from work, family responsibilities, technology, or the realities of modern life. Nor should we romanticize some imaginary past that never truly existed. The goal is not abandoning responsibility. The goal is learning how to live with greater attentiveness and less fragmentation.
Perhaps that begins with small choices.
Turning off notifications for a period of time each day. Driving somewhere without constant noise in the background. Sharing a meal without screens. Praying before opening social media. Giving another person undivided attention during a conversation. Allowing silence to exist without immediately trying to fill it.
Practicing Sabbath rest.
Learning once again how to become fully present in the moment we are actually living.
These practices may seem small, but small rhythms shape human lives over time.
The disciples did not multitask their way into Pentecost. They gathered together. They waited. They prayed. They became attentive enough to receive what God was giving.
Perhaps the same invitation still exists for us today.
The world around us constantly pulls our attention in a thousand different directions. Fear scatters. Outrage scatters. Anxiety scatters. Endless distraction scatters.
But the Holy Spirit gathers. The Spirit gathers scattered hearts. The Spirit gathers divided communities. The Spirit gathers wounded people. The Spirit gathers our attention back toward truth, compassion, wisdom, and love.
Pentecost reminds us that God still gives the Spirit freely. The question is whether we are present enough to receive it.
God gathers what the world scatters.
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This is a reminder that we publish a weekly newsletter called the Circuit Rider. You can request this publication by email by sending a request to FlintAsburyUMC@gmail.com, or let us know when you send a message through our website. We post an archive of past editions on our website under Connect – choose Newsletters.
Pastor Tommy
Some content comes from John Mark Comer. The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. Colorado Springs : WaterBrook, 2019. ISBN 9780525653097.