There’s a legend surrounding the Old Testament story of Nimrod that’s fairly interesting. The name probably sounds vaguely familiar. Nimrod was Noah’s great-grandson, and his mention in Genesis is not particularly lengthy. He is described only as “a mighty hunter.” Other brief references hint that he ruled the land of Shinar, and – so the legend goes – was the founder of the city of Babylon and many other Mesopotamian cities.
Nimrod was a self-made man. He didn’t even bother paying lip service to the God who had delivered his great-grandfather from the Flood. He felt his rise to power was a direct result of his own efforts, his own choices. Nimrod was an authoritarian ruler who amassed great power and ruled pretty good chunk of the post-flood inhabited world. As far as kings go, he was pretty successful.
But you know how the story goes. No matter how much fame, fortune and power Nimrod amassed, he knew he was still mortal. One day he would die, like all men, and be forgotten. Human memories aren’t eternal. So Nimrod decided to embark on a building project like no other. He brought the best builders and used a the newest technology of bricks instead of stone. And so he began work on a massive ziggurat that would stand for all time. The building project quickly took on a nationalistic tone, and as word travelled, people from all over came to watch the progress. Soon it felt like all of humanity was united in the project, elevating the monstrous brick structure from a nationalist to a religious symbol. It was no longer just about Nimrod’s search for something larger than himself – it was now a symbol of mankind’s self-sufficiency. They no longer needed God – if they all acted together in this, what couldn’t they accomplish?
You know the rest of the tragic story. The blind vanity of the Tower of Babel resulted in thousands of years division, war and atrocities so numerous we’ve become numb to them, to say nothing of the individual isolation and brokenness.
But then came Pentecost. At Pentecost, God took people separated by language and culture, limited by the curse of Babel, and formed a new kind of unity: the Church. And where language and culture used to divide, in Christ those differences become beautiful new ways to express and reveal God’s plan.
After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, 10 and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”
– Rev 7:9-10
God took the tragic story of Babel and redeemed it at Pentecost. He’s also done the same for you and me. Whether from a empty life that only looks successful on the outside, or a painful life with plenty of scars on the outside, the wonder of Christ’s redemption is that He is using the very things that would have destroyed us without Him to give us a unique means of telling His story.
As you think of the miracle of Pentecost in Acts 2, ask yourself a few questions:
- How have you seen language and culture be a destructive, isolating force?
- In heaven, the scene from Pentecost will play out for all eternity: people from every language and culture all praising God in their own unique way. How have you seen God worshiped in another culture that has struck you and contributed to your own understanding of God?
- Think about the wounds you’ve endured. How is Christ using those painful experiences to allow you to tell others the story of Christ’s love?
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