We Are Not Waiting for Pentecost

A Personal Reflection

Over the years, there have been seasons where I have found myself paying closer attention to the rhythm of the Hebraic calendar.

Times of reflecting on Pesach (Passover).
Counting the days leading toward Shavuot (Pentecost).
Sitting with the weight of what it meant for the people of God to live ordered around what God had established. Not as an obligation—but as an awareness.

I have sometimes felt something tugging at me in those moments—questions rummaging around my mind. How do we honor what God established without drifting back into something Christ has already fulfilled? How do we recognize these rhythms without subtly returning to them as a way of approaching God?

Because for many of us, that’s not theoretical. These things are not just familiar. They rest in a deeply meaningful place in our spiritual life—and that matters. Because what God establishes is never without purpose. So the question I am pondering is not whether these things matter, but how we understand them in light of Christ.

Not a Return—but Recognition

From our position established through the finished work of Christ, following the Hebraic calendar does not mean a return to the old covenant. It means we begin to recognize what those rhythms were always pointing to. There is a difference between honoring something and rebuilding it as a way of approaching God.

One remembers. The other reverts. We are not being invited to rebuild what Christ has already fulfilled. We are being invited into clarity. 

Because in Christ, what was once patterned has now been established.
What was once anticipated has now been given.
What was once approached through rhythm and adherence to Torah has now been opened through union.

Remembrance—Reordered

There is something worth noticing in the way God established the feasts. Pesach (Passover) was always about remembrance. God’s people were instructed to look back—to remember the night of deliverance from bondage, the blood that marked them, the freedom that came not by their effort but by God’s decisive act. Pesach formed a people who remembered what God had already done. 

But the remaining feasts carried a forward momentum that created expectation. They marked time in anticipation of what God would yet bring to completion. Even Shavuot (Pentecost), remembered in connection with Sinai and the giving of the Torah (Law), held a noticeable tension—a people shaped by what had been, yet still aware that something more was ahead. 

Then Jesus sat with His disciples at a Pesach table. And something shifted. He did not discard the feast. He fulfilled it—and in doing so, He quietly reordered it.

“This is My body.”
“This is My blood.”

No longer simply a remembrance anchored in Egypt. Now a revelation of a greater deliverance. From that point forward, remembrance would no longer sit alongside anticipation in the same way. Because what had been anticipated was no longer ahead. It had come.

What began as Messiah offering Himself as the Passover Lamb resulted in His obtaining eternal redemption on our behalf. And that repositions everything that comes after. 

But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things having come, He entered through the greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made by hands, that is, not of this creation; and not through the blood of goats and calves, but through His own blood, He entered the holy place once for all time, having obtained eternal redemption. ~ Hebrews 9:11–12 (NASB 2020)

Pentecost Is Not Approaching

From the perspective of the finished work of Christ, something begins to become clearer. We are no longer waiting for the fulfillment of Pentecost. We are not moving toward an outpouring that has not yet come. The Spirit has already been given. The life of God has already been poured out.

The reality the feasts pointed toward is not ahead of us—it is the life we now live from.

We are not a people anticipating the arrival of the kingdom. We are a people who have received it. A kingdom that cannot be shaken. A life that has already been established in Christ. 

This does not remove expectation. It grounds it.

Because everything now flows from what has already been secured—not from what we are trying to reach.

You Have Not Come to Sinai

The writer of Hebrews gives us language for this shift.

“You have not come to what may be touched… to blazing fire and darkness and storm…” … “But you have come to Mount Zion… to the city of the living God…” (Hebrews 12)

This is more than imagery. It is a reorientation.

Sinai was a moment. A people gathered around an encounter. Fire descended. A voice was heard. And it marked them. But it was not meant to be where they lived. Because Sinai was external.

• Zion is internal.
• Sinai was approached.
• Zion is inhabited.

Pentecost Fulfilled—Now Lived From

When the Spirit was poured out at Shavuot (Acts 2), it was not another Sinai. It was the fulfillment of everything Sinai pointed toward.

Not law written on stone—but life written within.
Not a voice from a distance—but the Spirit dwelling in us.
Not a moment to return to—but a reality to live from.

This is why Pentecost is no longer something we move toward. It is something we now live from. The Spirit has been given. The Ekklesia Assembly has been formed. The life of God has been poured out.

Expectation

Yet, around this time of year there are moments when I’ve felt that familiar sense of prophetic anticipation begin to rise again. Sometimes it’s a quiet expectation. Sometimes it’s a subtle leaning toward something that feels like it’s about to happen. And I’ve had to pause and ask: Am I leaning into something Holy Spirit is breathing life into in this hour, or am I waiting for something that has already been given?

Not to shut down expectation—but to make sure I am first and foremost rightly anchored. And that can be difficult—especially in the current prophetic climate.

Do I have a sense of expectation? The short answer: yes. But not waiting for something to happen, like many of us have been taught to think of expectation. 

Expectation, in its truest sense, is not about reaching into the future—
it is about becoming aware of what is already true
and learning to live in alignment with it.

The language of Scripture helps us here. Expectation is described as a looking forward, a steady waiting, even a stretching. But this is not the stretching of lack—it is the response of a people who know something has already been secured.

We are not watching for another Pentecost to come. But I are learning to recognize what has already been poured out. So my expectation is no longer coming from an emotionally prompted uncertainty. Instead it becomes a confident growing awareness that is shaping how I live, how I respond, and how I gather with His people.

Rethinking Revival

This has inspired me to reflect on the abundance of prophetic words about revival that are emerging. Since I came to faith during a powerful revival, I often think about the incredible experiences I had.

The desire for awakening.
For renewal.
For a fresh awareness of God’s presence. We long for it. The thought of a bona fide move of God stirs our expectations. 

History shows us that there have been real moments where this has taken place—times when hearts were stirred, when awareness deepened, when communities were shaped in meaningful ways. I am not dismissing that. But I think some are learning to think about it from a different perspective.

Revival is not God finally coming—
it is a people becoming aware of the One who has already come.

It is not the arrival of the Spirit—
it is the uncovering of what has always been present—and this matters.

Revival is not measured by how many gather or how full a room becomes. It is measured by how clearly God reveals Himself. We call it manifestation. It’s when He makes Himself known. And when He does everything else begins to take its proper place—not by pressure, but by recognition.

People may be drawn by momentum at first, but the ongoing unveiling of God’s nature becomes the substance that lingers past the first spark.

Revival, then, is not something we build; it is something we awaken to—but not an awakening to something distant or delayed. It is an awakening to what has already been given, already accomplished, already poured out in Christ.

It becomes the moment for us when what has always been true becomes visible, when what Christ secured becomes lived, and when a people begin to recognize and respond to the reality they have already been brought into.

Do I believe we will see revival again? Of course I do—because it flows from the heart of God to make Himself known. But revival is not ours to measure or manage. Whether many come or few, that remains within His wisdom and His timing.

Our role is not to fixate on outcomes, but to remain anchored in what He has already accomplished. When anticipation is driven by the thought of numbers, it shifts our focus and leads to pressure.

But when it is rooted in the finished work, it produces a steady, unshaken people—free to respond without striving and to remain without needing to measure what only God can determine.

This is where some of our prophetic posture needs be gently but firmly realigned.

Too often, expectation has been shaped around what God is about to do, rather than what He has already accomplished in Christ. When we live in the not yet mode all the time it subtly trains us to live in a cycle of anticipation that never quite arrives. Then we tend to always be looking for the next word, the next move, the next moment—while overlooking the fullness that has already been given. 

Over time, this produces something more than just confusion—
it creates deep disappointment and, potentially disillusionment.

When what is hoped for is continually projected into the future but never grounded in what has already been secured, the heart grows weary. Some begin to question what they heard. Others withdraw, unsure how to reconcile what was promised with what they have experienced.

If you’ve been around the Spirit-filled or prophetic community, you’ve likely encountered this rhythm—an ongoing anticipation of what’s coming, paired with a subtle inability to fully live in the abundance already secured through the finished work. But when that becomes our default posture, it doesn’t deepen our walk with God—it undermines it, quietly forming a life marked more by dissatisfaction than by the fullness we’ve already been given. After awhile we become more like a disgruntled employee rather than a son or daughter living from what has already been given.

But the prophetic was never meant to keep the Ekklesia suspended in suspense. It was given to strengthen, encourage, and build up a people who are already established in Him. A realigned prophetic posture does not pull us forward into uncertainty—it anchors us more deeply into what is already true. From that place, expectation is restored—not as fragile hope tied to outcomes, but as a steady, quiet confidence rooted in the finished work. And from that place, we begin to live differently—not waiting for Pentecost, but learning to live from what has already been given.

From that place, expectation is restored—not as fragile hope tied to outcomes, but as a steady, quiet confidence rooted in the finished work, forming a people who can stand without striving and remain without disillusionment.

Having said that, if we begin to relate to Pentecost as something we are waiting to happen again, we can quietly drift back into relating to God through moments rather than through the life He has already given.

But Hebrews reminds us: We have not come to Sinai. We have come to Zion. Not to a moment that comes and goes. To a reality that remains.

A People Who Counted—and a People Who Have Received

From Pesach to Shavuot, the people of God marked time—moving from deliverance toward fullness. [Lev. 23:15-16; Deut. 16:9-10]

It shows that the waiting was originally a commanded counting toward fulfillment—

That awareness formed them. It taught them to live with understanding that God was bringing something to completion. But that cadence pointed beyond itself. Because in Christ, we are no longer a people counting toward arrival. We are a people who have already been brought near.

The Spirit has not been withheld until the end of a process—He has been given. The life that was once anticipated now dwells within. So we are not being formed by counting our way toward something we do not yet have. We are being formed by learning to live from what has already been given.

Not anticipation—but recognition.
Not movement toward—but alignment.
Not counting to receive—but living from what we have received.

And even practices that once trained us to anticipate can now be reoriented to help us recognize.

A Tradition Practice Realigned

The counting of the Omer—from Pesach to Shavuot—became, in some traditions, a structured journey of self-refinement. A 49-day process of examining the heart, identifying what is out of place, and seeking to become ready.

But even this can be re-centered.

Not as a process of fixing ourselves so we can receive—
but as an invitation to become aware of what has already been given in Christ.

The question is no longer, What do I need to change so I can receive?

It becomes, What has already been established—and where am I not yet living from it?

In that shift, formation remains—but it is no longer driven by deficiency.
It flows from a finished work that is already shaping us from within.

A Settled People

We are not stepping away from what God established. We are seeing it clearly—through the One it was always leading us to. We are not abandoning rhythm. We are just no longer depending on it to bring us into what Christ has already accomplished. We are not waiting for fullness. We are learning to live from it.

A settled people.
Living from a finished work.
Expressing a life that is already present.

And from this place, what is expressed will no longer compete for the center.

It will reveal it.

This is the ground we now stand on. Not anticipation of what may come—but alignment with what has already been accomplished. The Spirit has been given. We have received a kingdom that cannot be shaken. The life of God has been poured out. 

And the Ekklesia Assembly is being formed—not by striving toward something, but by living from what has already been given. 

So, we do not step back into distance. 

We remain. 

We do not return to what has been fulfilled. We live from what has been established. We are not waiting for what has already been given. We are learning to live from it.

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49 Days of Living From What Has Already Been Given