There is a difference you know, between acceptance and thankfulness. I found the line of boundary today. It left me in tears. As sobs racked my body, and arms of fellow students covered me in care, as the voices raised in song to celebrate worship, I felt, believed, and KNEW the vast canyon of difference between the two.
I am no stranger to the Lord's Supper. I love to serve communion, but I had only ever done it with the wine, never the bread. Today I served the bread. I broke off a portion and pressed it into open, seeking, hungry hands with pleading eyes poignantly and directly looking up into mine.
As thier eyes met mine, as I saw the desire and hunger to commune with our Lord, I was rocked. Literally. I started with using names when I could. I have always thought that was so important- to really personalize the moment we commune with God, Jesus would have used our name too, right? I got to the 3rd person whose name I knew and my throat began to lock up. Suddenly I realized that if I continued to personalize it this way I would burst into tears. As I charged them with the bread and recognition of Christ's sacrifice, as I saw that they understood it- that I could SEE they were THERE in this moment, a rush of the Holy Spirit washed over me- almost pulling me under. I could not breathe. For a moment, I just stood- and took it in. And then more hands were reaching out.
I have long ago accepted this call. This past summer, I was even granted the opportunity to let any wistful sentiments of other professions go. I am not only willing and accepting, but I do so with no reservations now. This is what I am called to. Wonderful right? Wouldn't we all hope that every pastor has come to that point? Well I did. And then I went past it- rushing, flooding, whirling and twirling past that safe place of acceptance. Suddenly I found myself in a place where I was broken, literally cracked open, vulnerable and very aware that I was. In that moment, as I gasped for breath, a fullness resonated in me in a whole new way and I knew the name of this thing that had taken hold of me and flown away. Thankfulness. Yes, I found myself thankful to the point of tears that God has called me to this place, this time, this task. I am not just accepting, not just acquiescing. Embracing this in a new way, and thankful.
I am no stranger to the Lord's Supper. I love to serve communion, but I had only ever done it with the wine, never the bread. Today I served the bread. I broke off a portion and pressed it into open, seeking, hungry hands with pleading eyes poignantly and directly looking up into mine.
As thier eyes met mine, as I saw the desire and hunger to commune with our Lord, I was rocked. Literally. I started with using names when I could. I have always thought that was so important- to really personalize the moment we commune with God, Jesus would have used our name too, right? I got to the 3rd person whose name I knew and my throat began to lock up. Suddenly I realized that if I continued to personalize it this way I would burst into tears. As I charged them with the bread and recognition of Christ's sacrifice, as I saw that they understood it- that I could SEE they were THERE in this moment, a rush of the Holy Spirit washed over me- almost pulling me under. I could not breathe. For a moment, I just stood- and took it in. And then more hands were reaching out.
I have long ago accepted this call. This past summer, I was even granted the opportunity to let any wistful sentiments of other professions go. I am not only willing and accepting, but I do so with no reservations now. This is what I am called to. Wonderful right? Wouldn't we all hope that every pastor has come to that point? Well I did. And then I went past it- rushing, flooding, whirling and twirling past that safe place of acceptance. Suddenly I found myself in a place where I was broken, literally cracked open, vulnerable and very aware that I was. In that moment, as I gasped for breath, a fullness resonated in me in a whole new way and I knew the name of this thing that had taken hold of me and flown away. Thankfulness. Yes, I found myself thankful to the point of tears that God has called me to this place, this time, this task. I am not just accepting, not just acquiescing. Embracing this in a new way, and thankful.
Julie,
ReplyDeleteI so know what you mean about the communion. I use to be a Lay Eucharist Minister for the Episcopal church and a few times I was asked to serve the host at communion on Sunday morning. It takes your breath away when you look into someones eyes and serve them. I recently have been keeping my eyes downcast when I receive in the Methodist church. I guess for some reason I was feeling unworthy...don't know but last time I looked up. Glad I did!
Thanks for the comment Darlene. It really is a moving moment. Keep looking up!
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