Joel saw the clouds. Acts heard the thunder.

Have you ever wondered about Joel 2 and Acts 2; one speaks of dreams, visions and prophecy and the other is about tongues as the Holy Spirit is poured out on the gathered believers. Peter is straight off the sprint block like Hussain Bolt announcing “this is it!” This is one of those moments where Scripture pulls back the curtain showing God working across centuries. His hand is steady, intentional and sovereign.

Joel 2 talks of a coming breath-taking encounter where God will pour out his Spirit on all flesh. It’ll be brilliant. Sons and daughters are going to prophesy. Old men will be dreamers of dreams. Young men see visions – real ones. A time where servants will receive the same Spirit as kings. Joel paints a world where the dividing lines tumble and fall and the presence of God moves across every life that will yield to him. It’s a rich promise of speech, sight and revelation carried by the Spirit.

Then you peer into Acts 2, and the scene looks very different. The Spirit comes like a rushing wind. Fire rests on every disciple. They open their mouths and begin to… speak in unlearned tongues. Not dreams. Not visions. Not prophecy in the simple sense. Tongues. Languages they never learned, declaring the mighty works of God.

Tongues and fire? Not quite how Joel put it. To be fair, Joel does mention fire; “wonders in the heavens and on the earth, blood and fire and billows of smoke” all of which are for another day, but flag that, bookmark it in your mind.

Acts 2, 50 days after Jesus has been raised from the dead arrives, and Peter stands up in the ensuing chaos of the outpouring of the Spirit, looks at the bewildered crowd, and ventures that Joel’s prophecy is happening now. Right now! No hesitation. No qualifiers. No consultation with anyone, he is convinced! And rightly so. Peter didn’t see Joel’s words as a narrow list of manifestations for a far off day. He saw Joel’s promise as the arrival of a new age. The Spirit had come like a huge tsunami, and when the Spirit comes, he brings every kind of communication that reveals Jesus. Prophecy, dreams, visions and tongues all fit under that astonishing and pulse-racing reality.

Acts 2 isn’t Peter claiming that speaking in tongues is the only fulfilment of Joel. But it’s a very, very good start. He is saying the era Joel foresaw has now crashed in on them. He is pointing to the arrival of the promised Spirit who releases the voice of God in every redeemed heart. Tongues are one expression of that voice. Prophecy is another. Dreams and visions flow from the same Spirit. Peter is announcing the dawn of a prophetic people, not the reduction of the text to one gift. It’s why charismatic churches are not quiet places. God is speaking, revealing, informing, encouraging – as His people are called to talk, speak, sing, draw, dance and sign-language everything He brings to mind, in whatever form.

Look at what the crowd hears. They say they hear the wonders of God proclaimed in their own languages. It’s not a time of silence. That’s the heartbeat of Joel’s promise. The Spirit gives speech that reveals the works of God. In this case, it comes through tongues. In other key times in Acts, it comes through prophecy. Sometimes it arrives as a remarkable vision in the night. Sometimes it comes through the Spirit’s discernable nudge that sets a missionary team in motion and on the road. The manifestation shifts, but the source is the same Spirit Joel anticipated.

Joel promised rain. Acts 2 shows the first torrential storm breaking open over Jerusalem. The drops are tongues that day, but the same cloud carries visions for Ananias, prophetic direction for Agabus and dreams that will later be characteristic of how God speaks to his people. Especially the old ones who have the years and wisdom behind them to be able to interpret them meaningfully. The Spirit is not hand-tied, limited to one mode of expression. Peter isn’t confused. Far from it. He is recognising that the promised age of the Spirit has arrived with power, and tongues are the first sign breaking through. The first act of revelation on the day of Pentecost is Peter grasping, seeing and understanding what to everyone else observing, is a ‘Huh?’ moment. Peter discerned it. In a heartbeat.

There’s a deeper thread here. In Joel, the mark of the last days is a people who speak with God’s breath in their lungs. In Acts, the first thing the Spirit touches is their speech. Their tongues catch fire, because God is reclaiming human words for his glory. It’s what our breath is for. Prophecy and tongues are not in competition. They are both signs that God has moved in, turned the TV off, turned on the lights, opened the windows and filled the house with himself.

So, if you’d not considered it, Acts 2 shows tongues, but Peter isn’t saying tongues equal prophecy. No, it’s just the start; he is saying the Spirit promised in Joel has arrived, and when he arrives, he releases a whole world of Spirit speech. Loud enough to hear and say ‘amen’ to.

Tongues weren’t the whole fulfilment. They were the opening note of a song that includes prophecy, dreams, visions and every Spirit empowered witness to the risen Christ. Fast forward to the book of Revelation 8:1 and you find an unusual phenomenon in Heaven; silence for about 30 minutes. Note the word ‘about’.

How’s your quiet time going? Time to raise the decibel level …

The odd fear of being seen as God sees us

Something made me wonder, as I began to write the bio a Christian publication had asked for. “Writer, communicator, and… something else?” “God’s favourite?” It’s strange how quickly a simple task can turn inward.

There’s an odd feeling that creeps in when someone asks you to write a few lines about yourself for a Christian publication. A kind of squirming inwardness. Do you list your roles? Your calling? The things God has done through your life? Or do you keep it plain and vague, just in case someone thinks you’re getting ahead of yourself?

Even “Jon, servant of Jesus Christ” can feel a little weighty when you write it down. Servant? Really? Him?

We’ve been trained, whether consciously or not, to tread carefully around identity. To speak quietly about who we are, as if owning it too plainly might draw suspicion. After all, people get nervous when someone names themselves too confidently in church circles. We mistake false humility for godliness, and authenticity gets lost somewhere between the footnotes.

But then, Paul – flawed, opinionated, formerly violent – opens his letters with unambiguous humility. “Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle.” No caveats. No apology. No self-deprecation to soften the edges. Just the truth of who God made him to be. Clay, yes. But chosen clay. Called clay. Sent clay.

The awkwardness we feel in naming ourselves isn’t always humility. Sometimes it’s fear of being misread. Fear that if we say too much, we’re proud – and if we say too little… we’re being a little disingenuous. The thing is, it’s not arrogance to agree with God. It’s not pride to say what He’s said. Whilst the gospel speaks of the supremacy of Christ in all things, it doesn’t shrink those who are recipients of His great grace, mercy, redemption and reconciliation down into invisibility. It lifts the chin (telling us literally to look up)and steadies the voice – not because of who we are, but because of whose we are. And despite everything, we are His chosen people, a royal priesthood …

My bio is simple if ever you should ask; my name is Jon. I live in Sheffield. I teach, preach, pray and write. I walk with people through pain and promise as they navigate the prophetic ministry. I’ve seen the Spirit move with power in quiet rooms and crowded halls. And every bit of it is grace. None of it earned. None of it owed. But it’s real.

I’m not embarrassed by that. Though I’ve often felt the pull to make myself sound a little smaller – just enough to be safe. But the gospel doesn’t play by those rules. The same cross that strips us of pride clothes us with purpose. The same Spirit who convicts also commissions.

You don’t have to downplay what God is doing in you just to make others comfortable. That’s not humility. That’s hiding. And the Church doesn’t need more people hiding behind vague bios. It needs sons and daughters who can say, with joy and honesty, “This is who I am. This is what He’s called me to. And this is the grace that makes it possible.”

I am, like you, a servant of Christ Jesus. Not in the abstract, but in the costly, beautiful, everyday reality of following Him, tripping up, brushing the knees and following again..

And if that sounds too bold – well, blame the gospel. It always was better news than we were ready for.