MGDAC: I have to admit, you’ve got a point there. Generally speaking, we seem to stand out among all Christians in the world. Maybe it’s our materialistic, consumer-driven society, or our wealth, or just plain old greed. We seem to be motivated by a desire for comfort and ease. We are self-protective and suspicious of others not like ourselves. I think of how silent Christians were (generally) during our civil war and again during WW2 when the evilest of all was putting innocent people to death. We didn’t voice much opposition. But let an immigrant enter our country illegally and we’ll rise to the occasion with speeches, laws and rallys. I can see where you might get the idea that all of us are evil. And maybe that’s the point. We ARE evil. God says so. Of all entities in the universe, God knows the truth about us. He knows there is no hope for any of us without his intercession and self-sacrifice. And that’s about all we have going for us, literally. We are open to criticism, open to blame, because we are guilty. Anything negative you can come up to say about us is true. But…

And this is the biggest “but” you can imagine…despite the truth about us, he loves us…crazy! And here is something even crazier, he loves non-Christians (Muslims, Hindus, etc., etc) even those who don’t believe in him all the same. I’m telling you, this God is wierd in that way. So, bring it on…you can’t out name-call God. We’re evil, but we are working on it. Many of us really don’t want to be evil; it just comes out that way sometimes. I am amazed at how “un-evil” some people are. Like the ones who establish hospitals, donate blood, give huge amounts of money to the poor, volunteer to rebuild a hurricane-stricken town, take strangers into their homes, and more. Anyway, I just want you to know we are keenly aware of our label, and very aware of our guilt. (You are probably more aligned with God than you know…you both know the truth about Christians and all other human beings.) I appreciate your honesty.

I find it very interesting that it is among some of the most sacred comments I have ever read on Mike’s blog, that you appear. When we are truly in communion with God and our fellow sisters and brothers, nothing distracts us. The power of the cross is too great. We see ourselves and our own bitterness and anger and hatred. Our heads hang in sorrow, then the gentle hand of Jesus touches our soul and reminds us that we are beloved.

Communion transcends any label we may hold onto — whether American, conservative, liberal, rich, or poor. When we engage our hearts and minds and souls in this solemn celebration (not an oxymoron) we are believers.

Some of my most sacred memories of sharing in the Lord’s Supper, is when I am taking it with a sister or a brother that moments before, were dealing with the weight of their sin, and the blood of Christ removed it. With hair still wet from the baptismal waters, we share in this simple, yet profound beyond comprehension, event.

MGDAC — peace

Open Communion

I will never forget the Sunday at Highland when Kerri Lane and her daughters served communion. It was indeed a sacred moment.

At an Emmaus gathering a friend of mine and his teenage daughter served the community. I just sat there looking at them and thinking how wonderful it was that a father and daughter could share something like that. It was so precious.

shalom

On Sunday morning we hiked up the moss-covered hill behind the farm, had a family devotional, and shared communion overlooking the valley below and the black volcanic beach reaching out to the Atlantic Ocean. Not only was the scenery breath-taking, knowing there was no other land mass between us and Antarctica, but the warmth we shared as a family in the Lord in that place has stayed in our memories.

While the ushers passed out the elements, Mark and I served one another. We thought it was a fitting first act as husband and wife, to serve one another at the Lord’s table. Then we turned and watched as the whole congegration partook together as their pledge to us and to God to walk with us throughout our marriage. It was incredible to see the faces of so many loved ones from so many different parts of our life joining together in a unified meal of commitment.

Fortunately, there was room in the Inn (Ramada, I think) next to a Krogers store. Unfortunately, since most of the shelves had been stripped bare, there was no Matzos (or any other unleavened bread) to be found in the store. I explained to a helpful cashier what I was trying to do and soon all three of the Kroger employees in the store joined the effort to help me collect the necessary ingredients to make my own unleavened bread.

After I returned to my room, I mixed the ingredients and placed my tortilla-like unleavened bread on the foil wrapper of my fast food hamburger. I removed the lamp shade from the table lamp and positioned the exposed incandescent bulb within a centimeter of the bread. Heat from the bulb eventually, sort of, cooked the bread and within a relatively short period of time all things were ready.

I read from the Scriptures. I sang hymns of praise and thanksgiving. And, then ate the bread and drank the fruit of the vine. For a long period of time, I sat in the silence of the evening and reflected on the meaning of Christ’s life, death, resurrection, ascension and promise to return. Although it wasn’t quite the same as being “in community” as I communed, it was a moving experience.

This morning Mike, Diane and Chris Cope were back for the first time since the accident three weeks ago. Diane and I made eye contact and she gave me that wonderfully sweet smile while sitting next to Chris, who is still in a wheelchair. Mike read a short thank you announcement and I cried. I was able to serve communion to the Copes and the moment was moving.