The Sweetness, Substance, and Stickiness of Communion

Every week, in the midst of Communion, I can't help but notice the way the wet, sweet bread sticks in my teeth.  I partake, I remember, I say thanks, I taste the sweetness, and then I chew.  I chew some more, usually pause a second, twist my tongue to get the combination out of my molars, chew a little more, and swallow. 

Is it blasphemous to be writing about this?  Hopefully not.  I know it seems the antithesis of what one is supposed to be thinking of while receiving the sacrament, yet week in and week out I can't help but notice the stickiness of Communion... and how it illustrates to me the stickiness of Jesus.  Corny and weird, but true.

Jesus, in His holy perfection and love, will not be quickly dismissed or shoved aside.  He is dynamic, followable, and charismatic in His leadership.  His sacrifice of both body and blood on the cross binds us to Himself in the Trinity.  Essentially, He is sticky.  Our relationship with Him is one that sticks.  His followers are meant to be sticky.  So it's not too far off base that taking Communion prove to be a sticky experience.

Lingering after church today, I noticed one of the pastors' daughters dancing around the gym with a styrofoam cup full of leftover communion bread.  I then entered a conversation with a friend in which he held a few pieces of bread in hand and casually nibbled as we talked.  "It's too good to go to waste" he laughed.  Indeed, it might be the most delicious communion bread I've ever tasted.  Fresh-baked every Saturday and pleasantly sweet, it just tastes darn right good.

Please don't think RH disrespects the practice of Communion.  I like to think of God smiling at our childlike enjoyment.  In Communion, the elements become sacred symbols of blood poured out and a body broken.  They are earthly food and drink meant to aid us in remembering that Chris emptied Himself, made Himself nothing, FOR US.  Upon consumption, you also can't help but notice that the bread and juice are both sweet and substantive.  The combination tastes pleasant on my tongue and fills me. 

So I am reminded not just of Jesus' kenotic sacrifice and nature, but also of His sustenance and the sweetness of communion with Him.  Yet again, God uses the simple things to draw me in. 

Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you.  This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.  Matthew 26:26-28. 

Taste and see that the Lord is good.  Psalm 24:8.

Debt Doomsday Approaches

What the heck, people?!  Please make a decision: http://www.worldmag.com/webextra/18402

For as much bipartisan talk as our airwaves relay to us commoners, it sure doesn't seem like our representatives comprehend the practice of bipartisanship.  This country's cavernous party divides run so deep that they have transformed the other side into real-life enemies.  The subject of the battles vary, yet always rage front and center in the public eye, slowly chipping away at our confidence in our leaders and heightening our cynical response towards them. 

An NPR interviewee stated recently that a decade ago, fierce debates could be fought across the aisle, but handshaking and casual catching up always surfaced when the debate was over.  Today, that "post-game" civility has disappeared from Congress' floor.  Let's return to the soccer field and make sure our kids are high-fiving and congratulating each other with a "good game" so they don't follow in the footsteps of today's leaders.

You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven... If you love those who love you, what reward will you get?  Are not even the tax collectors doing that?  And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others?  Do not even pagans do that?  Matthew 5:43-47

Muted

To be honest, I can't keep track of Paul's imprisonments recorded in the New Testament.  They seem countless.  Their individual significances and differences are completely lost on me.  All I know is that Paul was a man on a mission who persevered with the determination of a fierce athlete.

So today when my pastor pointed out the gravity of Paul's two-year incarceration without any recorded letters written during that time, I took note.  "When two years had passed, [Emperor] Felix... left Paul in prison," Acts 24 reads.  Over two years in his prime spent in a cell.  We read Paul's experience and personality into this story and presume fruit was grown and reaped during his tenure in prison, but there is essentially no evidence to assure us.  

What if Paul simply sat and prayed?  What if he despaired?  What if he sang?  What if he spent weeks in silence and enjoyed only one conversation with a skeptic?  What if he spent weeks in silence and enjoyed only one conversation?  What if?

God has afforded me comfort lately in pointing out that patriarchs, popular New Testament figures, and modern day saints alike have all lived "muted" years.  These years spent void of memorable color and spice passed void of noteworthy productivity or miracles.  Noah was 500 before he is even mentioned in the Bible.  Moses and the Israelites wandered the Arabian desert for 40 years between the miraculous parting of the Red Sea and the long-awaited arrival to the land promised.  This morning I learned of Paul's muted years.  

Lesson to self: These years are not unique to me.  I gather that they are not necessarily BAD, perhaps they are simply part of the package, an ebb in the flow of life.  At the risk of creating a self-fulfilling prophecy, I tentatively think I'm in such a season now, and thank the Lord that I'm not alone!  Other folks, even Bible folks, gusty folks, and wise folks describe having lived through a few muted years along their way. 

Henri Nouwen confirmed and articulated this for me tonight with his September 2, 1985 journal entry written during his first days at a L'Arche community, a haven where mentally handicapped people live together in the spirit of the beatitudes.  After voluntarily leaving Harvard Divinity School and all of its prestige, Nouwen entered a simple and communal life at a L'Arche community located in the tiny French village of Trosly.  

Here he entered a season outwardly muted, yet spiritually enriching.  No brilliant books.  No fascinating lectures.  No reputable companions.  A journal of thoughts, prayers, and questions is all that year produced.

"I know in my heart that now is the time to pray, to read, to meditate, to be quiet, and to wait until God clearly calls me.  I am happy with the clarity I have... This is clearly a time for hiddenness and withdrawal from lecturing and giving retreats, courses, seminars, and workshops.  It is a time for being alone with God.  I feel a tension within me.  I have only a limited number of years left for active ministry.  Why not use them well?  Yet one work spoken with a pure heart is worth thousands spoken in a state of spiritual turmoil.  Time given to inner renewal is never wasted.  God is not in a hurry." 
Henri Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey

Meeting With a Missionary

Andrea was already at the coffee shop last night when when I arrived.  6:59.  It's a new environment and foreign neighborhood to her, but she looks like she spends every morning there by the way she casually chats with the barista.

There is something consistently familiar about missionaries.  A distinct air of confident humility precedes them that, combined with a charming openness to people, especially diverse people, is unmistakable.  To a missionary, people of different heritages, nationalities, and worldviews aren't something to be investigated, critiqued or avoided, but encountered with a steady hope that they could know God.  An expectant eagerness lingers that peers in to one's soul, engages, and observes how God is already moving and how they might join in.

There is something else.  Since missionaries typically witness in foreign cultures and environments, they seem to have learned to be at home anywhere, and you can tell.  They fixate on the person and conversation at hand, seemingly unimpressed and completely undistracted by their environment.  It's tertiary.  People and what the Spirit is doing in them is primary.

Andrea, her husband, and daughter are taking respite in the States for the final months of her second pregnancy.  For the last four years, they have been ministering to their students, co-professors, and neighbors in China.  They plan to continue to do so until God says to leave.  This pregnant sabbatical will not be spent void of Christian community for Ann and her family.  They know how precious fellowship is and don't plan to squander a second of it in their time in the States.  So they have jumped right in at Redemption Hill.

Over coffee last night, I was reminded of Janee saying once that God seems to use international missionaries to encourage and commission domestic Christians just as much as we domestic folks encourage and commission international missionaries.  Most of us here in the States will admit to at least one instance of climbing up on our high horses and thinking Aren't I a nice, good person? as we mail our checks and pray when it comes to mind.  Yet, the reality is that the missionaries we send and support are also helping us, inspiring us, challenging us, sending us and enlightening us. 

In a similar vein, researchers predict that within this decade, if not already, the number of Christians in Africa, Asia, and South America will surpass the number in North America and Europe.  Soon after, it's not far fetched to speculate that missionaries will be sent to us rather than primarily us to them.  Times, they are a changin'!

Meeting with Andrea left me refreshed and awake, joyful and inspired, and... thankful.  I'm grateful that though the workers are few and the labor is difficult, God uses us to reciprocally enrich each other as we go.  

He told them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field. Luke 10:2

The Pursuit of Happiness

It's been a while since I've posted, and much of the reason is that life is SO FUN right now.  You might laugh at that statement, but I've been spending many nights with friends, other nights reclined on the couch, and weekends trotting around with friends and family.  The last month has included celebrating our nation's independence, family birthdays, engagements and upcoming nuptials, CT Scans with no cancer in them, successfully teaching my dog to run with me, and the intoxicating combination of warm sun and fresh water.  In many ways, the last year as a whole has been marked by ease, fun and happiness.

Sound good?  Agreed.  But a quiet, yet constant sense of dissatisfaction persists.  Were we meant to live happily?  Thomas Jefferson, for one, thought we were at least meant to pursue it.  But, is that the ultimate means and end God has in mind for us?

The nagging discontent tells me no.  I've been timidly asking God for challenge recently- something more than the status quo I see around me.  I don't expect that challenge must set up shop in lieu of happiness.  They are not mutually exclusive.  I simply ask that challenge would come my way, and that God would provide me the courage to pursue the fertile soil for growth rather than cast it aside because I'm too busy pursuing happiness.  I want to be stretched, grown and broken.  Happiness usually doesn't offer that effect.  

And of course, I also enjoy happiness.  It's easy.  It's fun.  It requires little and appears to offer much.  But it doesn't usually produce growth and sanctification the way adversity does.

I suspect that the elusive nature of the pursuit of happiness is something everyone sees, but most ignore.  Observation reveals that some folks acknowledge it, yet fewer still consciously refuse to search the well of happiness for their satisfaction.  It's not a secret then that God didn't design us with the ultimate goal of happiness.  The Bible certainly doesn't articulate so and general revelation (what humans can learn about God from the general world) doesn't buy it either, as evidenced by Toni Morrison's recent speech to Rutgers University graduates:

"I have often wished that Jefferson had not used that phrase, 'the pursuit of happiness,' as the third right - although I understand in the first draft it was 'life, liberty, and the pursuit of property.'  Of course, I would have been one of those properties one had a right to pursue, so I suppose happiness is an ethical improvement over a life devoted to the acquisition of land, acquisition of resources, acquisition of slaves.  Still, I would rather he had written life, liberty, and the pursuit of meaningfulness or integrity or truth.

I know that happiness has been the real, if covert, goal of your labors here.  I know that it informs your choice of companions, the profession you will enter, but I urge you, please don't settle for happiness.  It's not good enough.  Of course, you deserve it.  But if that is all you have in mind - happiness - I want to suggest to you that personal success devoid of meaningfulness, free of a steady commitment to social justice, that's more than a barren life, it is a trivial one.  It's looking good instead of doing good."

Thank you Toni, for educating at least one class of graduates with this universal truth: don't settle for happiness.

Thank you, God, for redeeming our trivial life and giving us joy and fulfillment in place of bareness.

Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.  I Corinthians 6:19-20