Pentecostal<\/a>, seeker-sensitve church raised minds could not fathom why a person would \u201cneed\u201d to take Communion\u2013it was just a stale cracker and thimble full of warm grape juice. One needs that like they need to find a hair in their crawfish etouffee.<\/strong><\/p>\n*****<\/p>\n
In our years at Canal Pres, they learned from Kate, Pastor Mike, and many others the power of communion in a loving community.\u00a0 We learned from the words of institution, that all are invited to eat and drink:<\/p>\n
\u201cOur Lord Jesus Christ, on the night when he was betrayed, took the bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples and said, \u2018Take; eat; this is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.\u2019 In the same way he also took the cup after the supper, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them saying, \u2018Drink of it, all of you. This cup is the New Testament in my blood, shed for you for the forgiveness of sins. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.\u2019\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nTaking and eating in a community of believers who loved us, my husband and I-quickly realized\u00a0we needed<\/em>\u00a0to take the Communion too.\u00a0The invitation to the table is an invitation to be known for who you are, what you\u2019ve done, how you\u2019ve failed, and yet the invitation stands.\u00a0 Come and receive a love that intercepts the trajectory of shame.<\/strong><\/p>\n*****<\/p>\n
The first time I served Communion, I was in a church that was slowly eating away at my hope for the Body.\u00a0 The leadership, although sincere in their love for Jesus and their community, just didn\u2019t get\u00a0us.<\/em><\/p>\nWe were too diverse\u2013black and white (gasp!) my husband was an ex-gang member (clutch the pearls!), and we child that was clearly born out of wedlock (hide yo\u2019 kids, hide yo\u2019 wives, the fornicators have arrived)!<\/p>\n
We were too idealistic with our CCDA notions of moving into the inner city (because we did that in New Orleans; why not here in Boston, too). Were were too radical with our talk of the poor, the outcasts, and suggesting residents of the local housing development who the church will happily give bread to, might appreciate an invitation to come and break bread with us, too.<\/p>\n
My husband was laughed at and called too \u201cprophetic\u201d for his own good.\u00a0 I sat in a car with a leader, one in whom I saw so much of myself and hoped a vibrant mentoring relationship would bloom, and was told, \u201cYou\u2019re different.\u00a0 You\u2019re not like us. Both you and TC don\u2019t quite fit in\u2013-and that\u2019s ok.\u201d<\/p>\n
In spite of the repeated hurts, we had hope, so we served fatefully for two years. Not just in various ministries and at events, but consistently on the Communion serving team:\u00a0 every six weeks my husband and I stood in front of hundreds and people and speak the blessing over them:\u00a0\u201cThis is Christ\u2019s Body broken for you; this is Christ\u2019s blood shed for you.\u201d<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\nWe loved when people would wear name tags, so we could attach their rightful blessing to the given names.\u00a0 It was powerful and healing in a very toxic environment.<\/strong><\/p>\n*****<\/p>\n
Our time came to a close at that church, and to celebrate not just our time there but the end of a \u201csuccessful\u201d year of ministry, the leadership decided to have a celebration at one of the best Chinese restaurants in the area.\u00a0 I know it\u2019s highly Westernized and terrible for me, but I love Chinese food and this place was known for their incredible fried rice and chicken dishes.\u00a0 Everyone raved for weeks in the staff meetings, so much so,\u00a0 that the day\u00a0 of, I didn\u2019t eat anything but a cinnamon raisin bagel\u2013I wanted to be hungry when I got to the celebration dinner.\u00a0 And hungry I was. I snapped at my husband when he took too long to pick a shirt, I rushed the kids to find their shoes and \u201cso help me, Jesus if you get dirty and have to change when it\u2019s time for us to leave, I will make you rue the day!\u201d<\/p>\n
I was what some may call,\u00a0hangry<\/em>.\u00a0 But I was \u201changry\u201d for the good stuff, so I gave myself a pass.\u00a0 I knew the moment I sat down with that plate of sweet and sour chicken, all the stomach pains and snappy words would have been worth it.<\/p>\nWe finally made our way down to the well-appointed basement meeting space and the buffet before me was more than I dreamed.\u00a0 I think I drooled a bit, but I\u2019m a lady so I think I masked it as a sneeze into a tissue pulled out of my purse.\u00a0 I made small talk down wind from the lo mien and prayed to Jesus that traffic would be smooth for all those still on their way.\u00a0I was ready to take and eat.<\/strong><\/p>\nThe lead pastor finally blessed the food and like a good mama I made my kids\u2019 plates first, sampling what I call, \u201cmom tax\u201d but really I was deciding exactly what I\u00a0 wanted for my very own, long awaited plate. I loaded it up with a little bit of everything that caught my eye and made my way back to the table.\u00a0 My husband was talking about theology and one of the other pastors was trying to change the subject to how fun it is some of the pastor wives have tattoos, \u201chow edgy!\u201d , and for the first time all day, my kids were blessedly quiet with mouths full of saucy broccoli.<\/p>\n
I picked up my fork, smiled at the beautiful plate, and right as I was about to dig in, I heard that pastor who told me that we didn\u2019t belong laugh from across the room and every\u00a0 hurtful word, intentional or otherwise from every leader in that room ever said flooded my mind:<\/p>\n
different;
\ntoo much;
\nnot enough;
\nimmature;
\nprideful;
\nuntrustworthy;
\ntoo girly;
\nsilly;<\/p>\n
Their words spoken over us, negated the invitation to come to the table, take and eat.<\/strong><\/p>\nI drive by that church every work to go to work, remember that dinner, and think about how we might do this sometimes.\u00a0 How our\u00a0 unintentional words about the \u201cother\u201d might prevent them from coming to the table of our Lord to take and eat.<\/strong><\/p>\nHow when we say we \u201clove the sinner and hate the sin\u201d we\u2019ve just told our LGTBQ brothers and sister that the love at this table is conditional on your orientation\u2013get that fixed and then you\u2019ll be worthy of the body and blood.<\/p>\n
How when we say we\u2019re \u201ccolorblind\u201d or \u201cpast racism\u201d or ask, \u201cwhy does everything have to be about race with you\u201d we\u2019ve just told friend of color\u2013the black youth, the Middle-Eastern soccer mom, the Latina Harvard student that this table is about conformity to a dominate culture and not being shaped into the Kingdom of God.<\/p>\n
How when we say to a woman called to preach, \u201cwomen should be silent,\u201d we\u2019ve just told a fellow co-laborer that you may come to the table, but you must mind your manners, hold your tongue, and wait your turn.<\/p>\n
How when we say to the person whose sin is slightly beyond our capacity for grace, \u201chandle your stuff with God. Seek forgiveness first and then you may come and take,\u201d we\u2019ve just told them the table is for the perfect disciples and surely not the betrayer of Jesus and the denier of the Savior.<\/p>\n
But wait\u2026<\/p>\n
The table is for all. For you and for me, regardless of the state of our souls, Jesus desires to sustain us with his very own flesh and blood.<\/strong><\/p>\nAnd yet when we\u2019re suppose to be the Body, the mouthpieces of Christ, we actively send people away from blessed nourishment before you\u2019ve even broken the wafer and poured the juice.\u00a0 Is it any wonder why they don\u2019t come up?\u00a0 Is it any wonder if they do muster up to courage to come and eat, the memories of our words makes the sumptuous table as unappetizing as a brittle leaf and\u00a0 puddle water?\u00a0 I bet they\u2019re hungry, like I was hungry for Chinese.<\/p>\n
*****<\/p>\n
I ate that meal. I was hungry and I wasn\u2019t about to cook ramen that night when high end Chinese was before me, but I hurt with every bite.\u00a0 I doubted with every swallow.\u00a0\u00a0I felt emptier as I cleared that plate and I realized breaking bread with believers is only a joy when love precedes the invitation, is woven into the fellowship, and hovers over the sending off.<\/strong><\/p>\n*****<\/p>\n
I want to be the kind of Christian who makes space at the table for the outcasts, not just when I invite them to the table on a Sunday morning but as I go throughout my week.\u00a0 I want to be the kind of Christian that leads with love, speaks shalom, and gives amazing benedictions.\u00a0 I want to be the kind of Christian says, come sit by me at this table.\u00a0 You\u2019re flawed.\u00a0 I\u2019m flawed. And yet we\u2019re both loved so much that Jesus would rather die an excruciating death than live an eternity without us. So, here\u2019s the bread.\u00a0 Here\u2019s the cup.\u00a0 Let\u2019s take and let\u2019s eat.<\/p>\n
Thanks be to God.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The young couple hurried their toddler down the long hall to the nursery. They were late for church\u2013again.\u00a0 They could blame the baby for their tardiness to church, but really, they were just adjusting to a later service time\u201311am\u2013when they were used to being one of the first ones to help set up for a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3037,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,398],"tags":[289,448],"class_list":["post-3488","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blog","category-faith","tag-communion","tag-deeper-story"],"yoast_head":"\n
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