The language used in the ceremonies of the temple was ancient Hebrew. Many Jews had learned to speak Greek in order to bargain with foreign merchants. Dealing with the Roman soldiers and officials stationed throughout the empire had forced most to pick up Latin. One of those languages would have been understood by the assembled pilgrims.

Yet, to the people gathered that day, those were the languages of government, religion, and money. They hadn't said their first words in Hebrew. Their mothers hadn't sung to them in Latin. They didn't talk to their children in Greek.

A foreigner in Jerusalem had to be careful to avoid his native tongue, which sounded like gibberish to the Aramaic-speaking citizens of Judea. No one in Jerusalem made the effort learn a foreigner's language, and his fellow countrymen were far away. Imagine his surprise to hear the tongue of his home country being shouted in the temple courtyard.

The crowd pressed around the disciples to hear what was being said. ((Acts 2:6)) Pilgrims listened closely to single out the voice that spoke their language. Some, who had spent time around Jerusalem, were shocked to see that the men and women appeared to be Galileans. ((Acts 2:7)) They wondered what this could mean. ((Acts 2:8))

Others also recognized the speakers as Galileans. To them, the many foreign languages were only noise disrupting their religious experience. "Those Galileans are certainly hitting the new wine early, ((Acts 2:13))" they said. It felt good to have someone to mock.

The disciples had seen the pillar of cloud on the mountain ((Acts 1:9)) , and now they saw the other manifestation of God: the pillar of flame ((Genesis 15:17, Exodus 3:2, 13:21, 19:18, 24:17, 2 Samuel 22:13, 2 Kings 6:17, Psalms 50:3, Ezekiel 1:27)). The roaring fire rushed into the upper room, illuminating everything inside. The startled disciples watched as it spread out, marking each of them with a flame ((Acts 2:3)). As the flames over their heads faded, a new flame ignited in their spirits.

They felt a connection with something, someone, more wise, more powerful, more holy than themselves. Though he could easily have consumed them, instead he prompted gently. Down below, in the temple, a multitude of their countrymen had come to offer the first fruits of their harvest. Now they saw it clearly: They were the first fruits of a different kind of harvest, and it was time to offer themselves in the temple.

As one, they rushed from their room and into the waiting crowd, eager to tell those still in darkness about what they had seen: eager to spread the fire of heaven ((Acts 2:4)).

If you haven't yet read my short story In the Gaps, and you don't like "spoilers", you may want to read that first.

Not every story has a story behind it, or at least that story is some variant of "I had an idea and wrote it down." In the Gaps was not one of those.

Several years ago my friend Nate mentioned an idea he had for a story. "An atheist says there is no god, but that's asserting a negative. To prove it, you would need to be omniscient. What if an atheist became god trying to prove there wasn't one?"

What he meant was that if I say something like "There are no unicorns", then all someone has to do to prove me wrong is show one unicorn. The lack of a unicorn is not proof that it does not exist, because it could be hiding somewhere in the jungle. Suppose I observed every square inch of the planet at the same time and found no unicorns. Would that be conclusive proof? Of course not. The unicorn could have burrowed underground, or be living on another planet. To prove a negative, you've got to observe all of reality at the same instant. In other words, you have to be a god.

It was a great concept, and I awaited his final product. Knowing him, it would be some stream-of-consciousness cerebral, and mildly trippy, piece of high art. The sole character would spend his days alone, trying to prove there was no god. He would eventually succeed, only to realize, to his horror, that he had become the very thing he had proved did not exist.

Great stuff, but a different story with that premise started to formulate, unbidden, in my mind. Eventually I asked him if I could borrow his idea for my story, and he agreed. Another couple of years passed, but I finally sat down and churned out what I call In the Gaps.

It had been a week since Jesus had entered heaven. His followers still awaited his promise. Jewish pilgrims from around the ancient world ((Acts 2:9-11)) were packed into Jerusalem for the festival of Pentecost; every year they presented the first of their harvest at the temple, to show God their gratefulness, and that they trusted him to provide even more.

Like that fateful Passover almost two months past, the city was on high alert. With so many gathered together, mobs formed quickly. Pilate had his Roman guards on prominent display, but out of easy reach. The crowds seemed to grow more volatile every year. The Jews were growing tired of their overlords.

It was almost time for the morning prayer ((Acts 2:15)). The crowds filled every inch of the temple's massive courtyard. Latecomers fought for any open space they could find. Then, without warning, the thunder of a roaring wind ((Acts 2:2)) echoed through the temple.

Aphelion's soot-stained blizzards allowed atmospheric travel only a few days every year. The planet's residents called those days "summer". It had been the furthest world mapped during the second great galactic expansion, but each new wave made the name increasingly ironic. That it was inhabited at all was a testament to the stubbornness of mankind. The planet's distant sun warmed only a small band around the equator, and surviving for more than a few days outside of one of the planet's metal citadels was impossible. Satellites allowed for intergalactic communication, but only if the signals could reach them from the ground. Since the atmosphere was constantly polluted with smoke from volcanic eruptions, it was not uncommon for the planet to go for days in radio silence.

The planet's unparalleled isolation had lured the first hermits and sages, followed quickly by those who fought the raging blizzards to learn at their feet. The fame of Aphelion spread. The first university opened less than three hundred years later. Others followed. The planet's meager resources could not support the crowds, so off-world shipments were ordered to make up the difference. The cold atmosphere proved ideal for cooling the universities's massive computer labs, while the geothermal energy of the planet was tapped to power them.

Competition between the universities was fierce. Each year brought new surveys measuring them against each other, followed by rounds of editorials debating their metrics and conclusions. The staff of the Aphelion Institute of Knowledge paid close attention to these reports. Nothing was allowed to threaten their "Top Five" ranking. If a report suggested they were slipping in some area, it was quickly corrected. That is why, when a popular educational journal ranked them ninth in "Spiritual Fulfillment", the school hired the charismatic Dr. Saldon Douglas. Since the survey revealed that science majors reported especially low "spiritual connectedness", the board assigned him to their department. As the blizzards of Aphelion slowed to their annual minimum, the cruiser carrying him, and thousands of others, descended through the atmosphere. The current head of the science department, Dr. Dyson Judd, waited on a sheltered platform as the ship docked at the university's spaceport.

Robots scurried around the ship the moment it touched down, removing luggage and preparing it for its next flight. A wave of passengers flowed from the ship, spreading out in every direction. Ignoring the vibrant tide of chattering students, Dr. Judd watched for the few figures dressed in the traditional dark robes of a scholar. His lean face was motionless, but his eyes were alive, darting back and forth over the crowd, cataloging each person. Eventually they fixed on a short, grinning, and slightly overweight man, who was wrestling a heavy cart of books through the mass of milling students.

The man wound his way through the crowd with some difficulty, but finally reached the base of Dr. Judd's platform. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and then, with great effort, hauled his cargo up the stairs and into the quiet of the professors's quarters. He paused for breath a second time, wiped beads of sweat from his forehead, and thrust out his moist hand. "Director Judd! It's so nice to finally meet you."

Dr. Judd ignored his outstretched hands. "The pleasure is all yours."

"Ah, they told me of your wit. " He chuckled merrily. "Nothing like a bit of kidding to make everyone feel at home. I look forward to working together here at the Institute."

"Dr. Douglas ..."

"Please," he interrupted, "Call me Sal. All my friends do." He dried his hand on his robe and extended it a second time.

"Dr. Douglas, allow me to make myself perfectly clear. I have been at this university for one-hundred and fourteen years. I have been overseeing this department for the last thirty-two. In all of that time, I have never been less pleased at the arrival of a professor. I have recently had the displeasure of reviewing your so-called scholarly publications, and I must say that I have never read anything more damaging to the cause of education. In short, you are not welcome here."

"There's no cause for hostility." Dr. Douglas's extended hand finally fell to …

Jesus had promised ((Luke 24:49)) his disciples that "the holy spirit" would "come upon" them ((Acts 1:8)) in a few days ((Acts 1:5)). They waited expectantly, remembering the Bible stories about God's spirit filling great men like David ((1 Samuel 16:13)), Samson ((Judges 13:25, 14:6, 14:19, 15:14)), Gideon ((Judges 6:34)), Joshua ((Numbers 27:18)), and many other heroes ((Genesis 41:38, Judges 3:10, 11:29, 1 Samuel 10:10, 1 Chronicles 12:18, 2 Chronicles 24:20, Ezekiel 11:5))  and prophets ((Ezekiel 11:5, Daniel 4:8, Micah 3:8)). It had given them wisdom and power, and brought deliverance numerous times.

Prophecy said that the Messiah would have the spirit of God on him ((Isaiah 1:2)), and they had witnessed it themselves. When Jesus said the same spirit would be given to them, they could not help but recognize it as the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy ((Ezekiel 39:29, Joel 3:15)): God would restore Israel and pour his spirit on all, marking the dawning of a new age.

Yet even though scripture spoke often of God's spirit, it was still a mystery to them. Its appearance had grown uncommon in the centuries since the last prophets. Those in power at the temple were certainly devout, but God's spirit was not part of the routines of temple life. Those ministering at the altars carried out the traditions of a millennium, confident that they were following the will of God. Without the insights of the holy spirit, they could not conceive what God was preparing in an upper room at the edge of the courtyard.

When you listen and read one thinker, you become a clone… two thinkers, you become confused… ten thinkers, you’ll begin developing your own voice… two or three hundred thinkers, you become wise and develop your voice.

― Timothy Keller

There is a messiness to gaining wisdom. To get there, you must go through confusion, and when confused people interact it can become quite tumultuous. It's simpler to deny that more than one viewpoint could have validity. Clones are easier to manage than thinkers.

Originally there had been twelve apostles. Jesus had made it that way. The number was significant. Twelve men, like the original twelve sons of Israel, chosen to restore their fallen country. Now there were only eleven. Peter, suddenly finding himself with a lot of time to think, pondered Judas's empty position. Even though they now numbered more than a hundred ((Acts 1:15)), the vacancy bothered him.

Peter remembered that Jesus had gotten a lot of information about his ministry from the Psalms, so he also went to them for guidance. Soon he found a couple that echoed his own pain and anger at a friend's betrayal. It didn't take him long to find a verse he could use: "Let him die quickly and give someone else his position." ((Psalms 109:8))

Peter interrupted the prayers of the others to unveil his revelation. ((Acts 1:15)) He formed a committee to find the best replacement candidate for the inner circle. The new man must be respected and entirely loyal. ((Acts 1:21-22)) Peter would not risk another Judas incident. Eventually they narrowed it down to two candidates. To ensure that they got the best possible man, and also gave God his proper due, they prayed for blessing on their endeavor ((Acts 1:24-25)) and flipped a coin. ((Acts 1:26))

Matthias was welcomed into the inner circle. Joseph, and the rest, remained outside, as mere disciples. ((Acts 1:26)) Peter felt content. He had ensured that Jesus's carefully laid plan hadn't been damaged by Judas's action. The disciples resumed praying.

Down in the temple, a young but powerful Pharisee named Saul went about his business. He was as unlike the disciples as a Jew could be, and both he and the disciples liked it that way. Neither side could have imagined that Jesus would choose him as an apostle.

The peace of the Republic meant security for the Jedi. As an unchallenged part of the galactic government, they saw no cause for concern. No threats remained in the galaxy to menace them. Most Jedi could pass a lifetime without thinking of the Sith, the dark warriors who once opposed them. Those rare few who warned that the Sith may not be eradicated were dismissed. The Jedi were everywhere, and saw everything. No Sith could arise without the Jedi noticing. Even if one did, an ancient prophecy said the Chosen One would destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force. They never imagined that the one spoken of by this prophecy would leave the Jedi Order a smoking ruin.

The Sith also knew of the prophecy. It was a nagging fear in the back of their minds, even as the Rule of Two slowly worked towards domination of the galaxy. What could the Sith do to avoid a downfall that had been preordained? Sith mystics sought a way to avoid the prophecy. Others dismissed it as a meaningless Jedi legend. The Sith condensed their power, hidden in the shadows, unobserved by the Jedi. In time, just as the Jedi had forgotten the Sith, the Sith forgot about the Chosen One.

It took a millennium of planning for the Sith's grand plan to reach its climax. Palpatine prepared to take the reins of the galactic senate, where he would manipulate his weak-willed colleagues into granting him ultimate power so he could finally exterminate the Jedi. Then a boy named Anakin Skywalker was found, and whispers began to spread: he was the Chosen One.

A weaker Sith might have been shaken. It seemed that the Jedi prophecy would disrupt his carefully laid strategy. Palpatine, however, was not weak. Patience and stealth had served his order well for a thousand years. Panicking now would undo it all. Rather than directly attacking the Chosen One, which would certainly end in disaster, Palpatine sought a way to break the prophecy.

Years passed while Palpatine paid close attention to Anakin's progress. His power was certainly remarkable, but he was frustrated with the Jedi's slow and methodical ways. Palpatine formulated a new strategy. The wording of the prophecy intimated that the Chosen One would destroy the Sith, but how could that happen if the Chosen One was himself a Sith? Even if Anakin eventually overthrew him and assumed the mantle of master, the Sith would continue. The prophecy would remain unfulfilled. He did not relish the thought of training his own replacement, but the survival of the Sith depended on it.

Seeds of discord were easy to sow. Anakin had let fame make him arrogant. Palpatine fed his ego, convincing him that he deserved more than the Jedi were willing to give. With the coming of the Clone Wars, Anakin's frustration with the Jedi Council could no longer be contained. He resented being sent to fight like a common soldier, enduring attacks and all manner of discomfort, when he should have been leading. He would not accept being a pawn in the galactic battle plan of the Jedi.

By the time the Clone Wars reached their conclusion, Palpatine's strategy was ready. The war had left the people hungry for his new Sith Empire, and the Jedi were weak. Palpatine moved to break the prophecy. He knew that Anakin, unbeknownst to the Jedi Council, had taken a wife. His first child was due soon, and he was conflicted and panicking. When his desperation peaked, Palpatine offered the Sith as the solution. Revealing his identity to the young Chosen One brought confrontation with the Jedi, but Palpatine did not fear their attack. Only the Chosen One could destroy the Sith, and he was safely tucked away in a prison of fear and confusion.

The Jedi fell, exactly as expected, and the Chosen One was sucked into the inescapable whirlpool known as the Dark Side. As Palpatine watched the smoke rising from the Jedi temple, he could finally feel at ease. The prophecy had been subverted. The Jedi were extinct. The Sith once again ruled the galaxy.

George Lucas's epic saga has entertained generations. Its sweeping story, amazing special …

I promised I'd let you know how my sanity is holding up under the strain of sharing my home. Truthfully, it hasn't been as bad as I had feared. There were certainly some initial challenges, especially since I have expectations about the way things are done. For example, I was taught that when you leave a room, you turn the lights out. I always lock the door, of my house and my car, when I leave them. I never start a new box of cereal while there's still some of the same cereal left. If I open something that says "refrigerate after opening", I put it in the refrigerator. If I wash the dishes, I don't leave any food on the plates at the end.

Some of these issues I've been able to sort out. Others, I've learned to mitigate or accept. A few are still eating at my sanity, so perhaps I'll have another report for you in the future.