There’s something about the Holy Spirit that makes people shift in the pews.

We’re comfortable talking about God the Father. He created the world. He’s the Ancient of Days, the Lord who acted in the hoary past to split the Red Sea and raise up the prophets. Jesus, the Son — we’re good there, too. He walked the dusty roads of Galilee, taught with authority, died, rose again. These two members of the Trinity feel settled, somehow — rooted in history, wrapped in stained glass and Sunday School stories. Reverent. Predictable. Safe. They don’t bother us, because they’re enshrined in lofty Biblical words, pretty but removed from current reality.

But the Holy Spirit? That’s different. That’s here. That’s now.

And that makes people nervous.

In many churches, the Holy Spirit has often been the silent partner of the Trinity — mysterious, misunderstood, or quietly avoided. For some, He’s associated with emotional excesses or controversial theology. We’ve seen — or heard rumors of — people speaking in tongues, collapsing under someone’s touch, or sprinting down church aisles with upraised arms, and calling it the “work of the Spirit.” So we back away, afraid of becoming one of “those people.”

But the Holy Spirit isn’t about putting on a show. He’s about putting Christ in us — and that is far more disruptive than we’ve ever imagined. Because if Christ is truly in us — guiding our thoughts, interrupting our plans, invading our comfort zones — then the Holy Spirit isn’t just a gentle breeze; He’s a holy hurricane that rearranges the furniture.

This so-called “Third Person of the Trinity” isn’t content to be studied like a museum relic. He’s the living presence of God at work in our lives at this moment— convicting, empowering, transforming. Jesus called Him the Advocate, the Counselor, the Spirit of Truth. That’s beautiful language. But make no mistake: the Spirit also makes us uncomfortable. He brings to light what we’d rather leave in the dark. He points out what needs to go so Christ can grow in us.

And unlike the Father and Son, whom we often relegate to the past, the Spirit keeps showing up in the present. He meddles. He convicts us of sin, presses us toward holiness, nudges us to love someone we’d rather avoid, or forgive someone we’d rather resent. He equips us with gifts we didn’t ask for and places us in situations we feel unqualified for.

In short, the Holy Spirit messes with our illusion of control.

God’s holiness isn’t frightening because it’s chaotic; it’s frightening because it’s not. In His unshakable perfection, we see the instability in our own foundations. We say we trust God, but not if it costs our comfort. We want Christlikeness, but not if it means confronting our pride or acknowledging our wounds. Yet this is precisely what the Holy Spirit is doing in us: hammering out righteousness, reordering us from the inside out, empowering us to become more like Jesus.

So no, the Holy Spirit isn’t tame. But He’s not weird for the sake of being weird either. He’s holy. He’s wise. He’s the very breath of God, still breathing life into people who will receive.

Will you receive? 

Because when you allow the Spirit to take up residence in your heart and soul, things change. Maybe that’s not what you’ve been praying for — but it might be exactly what you’ve been needing.