Pneumatology — the doctrine of the Holy Spirit

Ask a congregation to describe the Father and they can. Ask about the Son and they certainly can. Ask about the Holy Spirit and the room usually goes quiet, or produces a metaphor — wind, fire, a force.

That vagueness has consequences. As Tozer put it, if the Holy Spirit were withdrawn from the church today, most of what we do would carry on unchanged and nobody would notice the difference.

He is a person, not a power

This is where every other error starts.

Scripture attributes to the Spirit everything that requires personhood. He has intellect — he "searches everything, even the depths of God" (1 Corinthians 2:10). He has will — he apportions gifts "to each one individually as he wills" (1 Corinthians 12:11). He has emotion — "do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God" (Ephesians 4:30).

And he can be sinned against personally: lied to (Acts 5:3), resisted (Acts 7:51), insulted (Hebrews 10:29), blasphemed (Matthew 12:31).

There is also a grammatical detail that is hard to explain away. The Greek word for spirit, pneuma, is neuter, so it should take neuter pronouns. In John 14–16 Jesus repeatedly uses the masculine ekeinos — "he" — breaking grammatical agreement to make a theological point.

Jesus calls him the paraklētos (John 14:16), a word from the courtroom: one called alongside to help. Counsellor, Advocate, Helper. Every one of those is a role only a person can occupy.

He is fully God

Peter's confrontation with Ananias makes the point in two sentences: "why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit...? You have not lied to man but to God" (Acts 5:3-4).

He has divine attributes — eternal (Hebrews 9:14), omnipresent (Psalm 139:7), omniscient (1 Corinthians 2:10-11). He does divine works: creating (Genesis 1:2), inspiring Scripture (2 Peter 1:21), giving new birth (John 3:5-8). And he stands in the baptismal formula on equal footing with Father and Son (Matthew 28:19).

Before and after Pentecost

The Spirit is active throughout the Old Testament — hovering over the waters (Genesis 1:2), filling Bezalel with craftsmanship for the tabernacle (Exodus 31:3), coming powerfully on judges and kings and prophets.

But there is a pattern: he comes upon particular people for particular tasks, and he can depart. David's terror in Psalm 51:11 — "take not your Holy Spirit from me" — is a real fear under that arrangement.

Then Joel promises something different: "I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh" (Joel 2:28) — sons and daughters, old and young, male and female servants. Not the elite. Everyone.

Peter stands up at Pentecost and says: this is that (Acts 2:16).

What he does

He convicts. "He will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgement" (John 16:8). No argument you make converts anyone. This is his work, and it is a relief to remember it.

He regenerates. "Unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God" (John 3:5).

He indwells and seals. Every believer, permanently (Romans 8:9, Ephesians 1:13).

He guides into truth. "When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth" (John 16:13) — which is why prayer before Bible reading is not a formality. The author is available.

He intercedes. "The Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words" (Romans 8:26). When you cannot pray, he is praying.

He assures. "The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God" (Romans 8:16).

He empowers witness. "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses" (Acts 1:8).

He produces character. This is the main thing, and it is where he is most often overlooked.

Fruit before gifts

"The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control" (Galatians 5:22-23).

Note fruit, singular, with nine facets — not nine separate items to collect. It grows organically, slowly and largely invisibly, which is exactly why it is less exciting than the gifts and vastly more important.

The gifts are capacities God distributes for the good of others: teaching, service, encouragement, giving, leadership, mercy (Romans 12:6-8), wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, prophecy, discernment, tongues, interpretation (1 Corinthians 12:8-10).

Two rules govern them, and both are Paul's:

They are for others, not for you. "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good" (1 Corinthians 12:7).

Without love they are worthless. 1 Corinthians 13 sits deliberately in the middle of the two chapters on gifts. If I speak in tongues of angels, understand all mysteries, and give away everything — but have not love — I am nothing. Paul is not changing the subject. He is telling a gifted, chaotic church what their gifts are worth without character.

Where Christians differ

Cessationists hold that the miraculous gifts — tongues, prophecy, healing — ceased with the apostolic age, having served to authenticate the founding revelation.

Continuationists hold that all the gifts continue, since the New Testament nowhere announces their withdrawal.

Both positions are held by serious, orthodox, Bible-believing Christians. Both traditions have produced enormous good and both have produced abuses — dry formalism on one side, manipulation and fabricated experience on the other.

The New Testament's own posture is worth adopting whichever way you lean: "Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophecies, but test everything; hold fast what is good" (1 Thessalonians 5:19-21). Openness and discernment in the same sentence.

The test of any claimed work of the Spirit

Jesus gave it himself: "He will glorify me" (John 16:14).

The Spirit's characteristic activity is to point away from himself and toward Christ. Any movement, ministry or experience that leaves people more impressed with an experience, a leader, or the Spirit as a phenomenon, than with Jesus, has failed the test its own author set.

And so

"If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit" (Galatians 5:25).

A military image — marching in formation, matching pace with someone. Not a mystical technique. A daily, ordinary willingness to go where he is already going.