"Come, Holy Spirit" prayer & Keri Day's Azusa Reimagined

Last Sunday, as part of our Pentecost celebration, Ministry Assistant Maddie Abbott invited the River community into a daily spiritual practice: find a place you pass each day — a doorway, a mirror, a subway entrance — and pause to pray the simple words, “Come, Holy Spirit.”

This short prayer is rooted in centuries of Christian tradition — but it also resonates with radical movements of justice and renewal in more recent history. That’s why this week’s Resource of the Week includes two offerings that speak to one another:
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1. The historic prayer "Come, Holy Spirit," still prayed around the world today
   
   
2. The book Azusa Reimagined: A Radical Vision of Religious and Democratic Belonging by theologian Keri Day, which invites us to see the Holy Spirit’s work through the lens of Black resistance and social transformation

Together, these two resources invite us to live more deeply into the reality that the Spirit is always moving — and always creating something new.

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Come, Holy Spirit: A prayer with deep roots

The simple invocation, “Come, Holy Spirit,” has been prayed by Christians for centuries. One of the most well-known versions of this prayer begins:

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of Thy faithful and kindle in them the fire of Thy love.
Send forth Thy Spirit and they shall be created.
And Thou shall renew the face of the earth.
O God, who by the light of the Holy Spirit, did instruct the hearts of Thy faithful,
grant us in the same Spirit to be truly wise, and ever to rejoice in His consolation.
Through Christ, our Lord. Amen.

This prayer, drawn in part from Psalm 104:30, became a central part of Catholic devotional life in the Middle Ages. It was often used to open classes, sermons, or times of discernment — especially when people felt uncertain or needed guidance. Its words express longing for God’s presence, but also trust in God’s renewing power.

A related text, the "Golden Sequence" (Veni Sancte Spiritus), is a Latin hymn composed in the 13th century, traditionally attributed to Stephen Langton or Pope Innocent III. Still sung during Pentecost Mass today, it describes the Holy Spirit as consoler, rest-giver, truth-bringer, and joy-maker.
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While the shorter prayer and the hymn are distinct, they share a deep theological insight: that the Holy Spirit is not just a comforting presence, but a creative force — a Spirit who renews the face of the earth.

Across centuries and traditions — from medieval monasteries to charismatic revivals — this prayer has helped people open their hearts to something beyond their own power. It’s a way of saying: "I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what’s next. But I’m open. Come, Holy Spirit."

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Azusa reimagined​ by keri day

If "Come, Holy Spirit" is a prayer of invitation, Keri Day’s book Azusa Reimagined: A Radical Vision of Religious and Democratic Belonging is a vision of what happens when that invitation takes root in the world.

In this powerful theological reflection, Day reclaims the story of the Azusa Street Revival — a 1906 outpouring of the Holy Spirit that began in a small, multi-racial Los Angeles church led by William J. Seymour, a Black Holiness preacher. What happened there was extraordinary: people of all races and economic backgrounds came together to pray, sing, speak in tongues, and experience healing. The revival spread rapidly, sparking similar Spirit-filled gatherings across the U.S. and the world.

This moment marked the birth of the Pentecostal movement, one of the fastest-growing expressions of Christianity globally today. Its emphasis on the power of the Spirit, deep worship, and the full participation of all people — across race, gender, and class — was radically countercultural then, and remains vital now.

Importantly for us: the River traces its roots to this tradition. We come out of the broader Pentecostal and charismatic movement — part of a lineage that believes the Holy Spirit is not just a historical idea but an active, present reality. While the River has evolved over the years as we’ve left the Vineyard movement and fully embraced the LGBTQ+ community, we continue to be shaped by that same conviction: that the Spirit moves among us with power, compassion, and creativity. In fact, we believe that it is an openness to the continued presence and work of the Holy Spirit that allows us to continue to grow and evolve as we continue to discern how we can best support and uplift all members of this community, during Pride month and every month.

Keri Day invites us to take another look at Azusa — not just as a revival of individual hearts, but as a theological and political event. She argues that the Spirit at Azusa didn’t just transform people’s emotions or prayer lives — it disrupted structures of white supremacy, patriarchy, and economic inequality. It was a new vision of belonging, a Spirit-birthed community that defied the social order.

In her words, Azusa offered “a radical social imaginary,” one in which the Spirit collapses hierarchies and invites us into a deeper, freer form of community. That vision speaks powerfully to the kind of church the River strives to be.