thoughts on communion

at the invitation of a friend, i had communion (outside of my denomination for the first time) this week. it was new. no foot washing. just bread and wine. i read the prayers. i ate. didn't dip (coz i don't do alcohol).

i never like taking communion without first knowing about it ahead of time. communion, to me, is a very serious journey, one that needs prior moments of reflection to clear one's head and get one's heart on the right track. am i worried sick about a bad interaction? do i have some unconfessed sin? have i talked to God lately? these are the sorts of questions i ask myself and aim to feel at peace about before taking the bread and drinking the cup (when it's grape juice).

that said, this monday's experience was very different from my norm. and i'm not quite sure what to do with it or whether to repeat it. i could go every monday. my norm is 4x a year and includes foot washing. i value the washing, the singing (at a traditional adventist church) of hymns while we wash, the praying together of husband and wife or children-parents or friends, the hand wipes some churches give out as you return to your seats for the emblems, the formal serving by deacons. Or. the more contemporary agape feast, the french bread we each grab a chunk of, the larger cup of grape juice that doesn't leave you parched, the grapes and other fruits that make up the pre-communion meal. and the singing.

but so what? is all that necessary? and how do we define necessity within this context of remembering Christ, his life-death-resurrection? what adds or subtracts from the celebration of his sacrifice of love and whether or not i'll be able to recall it sufficiently and positively impact other's lives as a result for the sake of the gospel? admittedly, the routine i'm used to could be perceived as mere tradition. why wash feet when they're not even dirty? why use grape juice instead of wine when the Bible doesn't give a clear enough distinction between the two...you're being legalistic! and why add on the singing or anything else that makes it a much longer service than need be? cut the time and you could comfortably do it more regularly like everyone else...

regularity. i think that's the kicker in my head. the longer process is really beautiful to me and i don't want to do it every week; i want to savor it.

but who am i and why do something just because i like it? what about the community? good question! that's another part of the equation--everyone else. the mass exodus from the sanctuary to the smaller rooms in which we wash feet, sing and pray. talking to others along the way, some of whom you haven't seen all week and may not have seen during a regular service. there's the feisty elderly woman who gives everyone mints, just because. and the young couple with their 3 children--there's nothing quite like watching a teenage boy wash his mother's feet. it's a communal journey. and once everyone has been served and has chewed and swallowed, we form a large circle around the church, take the hand of our neighbors and sing "bless be the tie that binds." we're in this together. we're remembering Christ together.

and then we leave with cleaner feet and the peace of God in our eyes, dropping money in an offering plate at the door to help others in need. Others...b/c we're all on that level with Christ as our ultimate provider.

this is communion, too.

having to think

There once was a time when I just did ministry. Just did it. No deep queries into minds and patterns. No reading up on the experts' opinions. Just action. Pure action. So what changed? 


Those I serve are no longer peers in terms of expectation and experience. 


Expectations will kick you, kick you hard, all over. And un-shared experiences? They create distance. The solution seems simple: hang out! Time spent will create shared experiences so that in spite of differing expectations, you'll at least have a trust relationship. And once you know each other better, you'll see a little more eye to eye. 


Voila! Bingo! 


But you'll still have to think coz it won't happen overnight. (And current expectations and distance will continue to get in the way.) And perhaps this is what folks were trying to tell me a year ago. I just wish I'd been able to get it a year ago and that they'd been able to say it like this.


And there I go with my crazy expectations...

http://shsuonline.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/expectations.jpg

lessons from email

Another online account. Another password. Another moment to decide whether or not to use the same 6-8 letters/symbols/numbers that my other 30 online accounts hold, even the Hotmail that I would delete if I were brave enough. I'm not even sure when I created that account. It's so last decade, before I learned that email accounts shouldn't be treated like underwear but more like a GenX teenage romance--pick one; go steady. And eventually you break up. It's fine because it wasn't meant to be more than summer love anyway. It's a miracle you made it through 2 semesters, choir tour and the talent show. Your duet was stunning, or at least as good as it gets for a sophomore. By graduation, you talk every now and then. Cordial. No Friday-sweatpants-wearing, cool-girl drama. But you haven't tossed out his notes.


And I haven't sifted through all my account options to figure out where that "deactivate account" button lies. Experience confirms that the chances of essential email dropping into that inbox are ridiculously slim. Hotmail, like AOL, makes savvy potential employers shake their heads. "Who does this?"


I do. I'm a horder. But certainly not as bad as the messy house people who show up on reality TV. I hold on to bigger things. Ideas. Ridiculous ones. Like surely I'll fall deeply in love with my job every day, surely the average citizen will say smart political things all the time, and of course Hotmail is worth keeping.


Miracle, where art thou?


The best item in my collection, though? You ready for this? It's the notion that people will be good even on their worst days. I know. Completely unrealistic. Utterly idealistic. Downright ridiculous. I mean, who am I to suppose that even on Mondays, after 1 cup of leisurely bliss, 2 oz of religious patronage and a dash of road rage the worst of us would give the world a wink and a smile? But I do. And Monday after Monday proves disappointing. If you've ever looked for the "keep hope alive" poster child, look no more. She lives in my head and expects you to come inside, make yourself at home. It's cozy here just inside the front door that thinks too hard and is probably to blame for massive stress levels. Reason can take a hike.


Bear with me another 20 seconds. It's not easy to convince others of my 30-year delusion. After all, I also still have yahoo.