communion: 40 words in 40 days

Believers gather on Sundays to worship. We partake of communion representing the body and blood of Christ, our Savior. He commanded us to do so when he returned after his resurrection. 

Communion means sharing. It is from the Greek word meaning fellowship.

My oldest son Matthew (21) visited this weekend. He had minor surgery on Friday. All weekend I doted and nursed. And hovered. And finally asked, “do you want to be alone?” 

On Friday I had the honor and horror to sit in on the surgery. I’ve been taught that not all people appreciate gruesome detail, so I will spare you here. It was a strange surreal experience seeing the surgeon putting things where they should not belong. I kept telling myself, “He is ok. He is safe.” I tapped alternately one leg then the other. Tap. Sway. Chant. He is ok. Only weird medical-types do this. 

Today we decided to get another hour of rest and to “stream” church on our computer. Matt, Matthew and I gathered round the large screen and folded clothes. Bill Wellons preached on “The Place of the Skull.” As we snail through Luke, we have finally reached the last chapters. Jesus is on the cross. Bill paused to pound nails in wood. The sound called us to the scene. My Lord hung naked on a cross for me. His body, mutilated. He was mocked and folks sneered at him. And I am among the mockers. 

As we reached the close of the service, Bill mentioned communion. Matt shot down the stairs. I heard clanging. Matthew looked at me, “He’s getting communion.” We laughed. I love this about your dad, I said. 

He made it back up just in time. We sat among folded laundry. The dog napped in a spot of sunshine. We shared the body, the blood. 

This is communion.

genuine: 40 words in 40 days

Two times this week I’ve had the pleasure of sitting with new-ish friends and telling my story. I am reminded of the power of our testimony! The Word says that we will overcome our Enemy by the power of the blood and the word of our testimony. 

My story involves a rupturing of a false identity that I pieced together. I learned about Jesus and His Power of Forgiveness when I was ten years old. Then in college, some kind and devoted young women taught me what it meant to walk out life with Christ. 

I began to read the Word and hunger for it. Fruit showed up in my life. And I began to hide. In my pride, I patched together an external version of what I thought it looked like to be a Christian. I adorned myself with fig leaves. 

My God would not allow me to stay covered in ridiculous leaves when a robe of righteousness awaited. In an amazing show of grace, he outed me in my early twenties. I took off the mask and began to walk in brokenness. 

From time to time, I try to hide again. In performance or in self-righteousness, but God is gently forming me inside out. He is teaching what it means to take up the cross and follow Him. 

He is refining my faith to be genuine.

Pure gold put in the fire comes out of it proved pure; genuine faith put through this suffering comes out proved genuine. When Jesus wraps this all up, it's your faith, not your gold, that God will have on display as evidence of his victory. 1 Peter 1:7

worth: 40 words in 40 days

The worth of a thing is determined by the price paid. The price paid for my soul is the invaluable blood of my Savior. My God paid the price of His Only Son to ransom me.

My true worth lies in the fact that I am a child of God. No failure, no accomplishment can change our relationship.

I often try and set my own value by performing or by judging my behavior. How clean is my house? What size clothing do I wear? How good are my child's grades? This is an affront to the blood.

I was bought with a price. The dignity woven into my soul and body mirrors the dignity in my Master's body. I want to learn to honor my body like it is the sacred dwelling place that it is.

Or didn't you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don't you see that you can't live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body. (1 Corinthians 6:16-20 MSG)

be: 40 words in 40 days

“Be still and know that I am God.”- Psalm 46:10

“Be.” What does that mean? The focus is not on doing. It is on who I am inside. Who am I? The scary thing about being is that you have to face the question, “who am I?” In “doing”, we are satisfied with being defined by what we do. Sometimes we use the things we do to avoid the question of who we are. “Who am I” looks beyond the tasks, the image, the roles and gets at the very soul. 

When we cease to be defined by what we do, we have to face the darkness of our own souls – the insecurities, the sin, the addictions, the compulsions. 

Our identity in Christ is the key to our conundrum. In Beloved, Henri Nouwen writes

 “Being the Beloved is the origin and the fulfillment of the life of the Spirit. Becoming the Beloved means letting the truth of our Belovedness become enfleshed in everything we think, say or do. As long as ‘being the Beloved’ is little more than a beautiful thought or a lofty idea that hangs above my life to keep me from becoming depressed, nothing really changes. What is required is to become the Beloved in the commonplaces of my daily existence and, bit by bit, to close the gap that exists between what I know myself to be and the countless specific realities of everyday life. Becoming the Beloved is pulling the truth revealed to me from above down into the ordinariness of what I am.”

I want to wrap up who I am - my “be”- in belovedness.

free

In case you didn’t notice, yesterday I did not post a word. It was a horrible day with a lethal combination of bad luck and exhaustion. The final blow included unloading the car in a driving deluge.

Sam’s injuries included hitting his eye on the window of the car, a busted lip compliments of his brother, and nearly piercing his own ear with one of my earrings. The giant loop had a clip on the back. Sam placed the earring on his lobe and closed it. He nearly had a piercing by the time I removed the earring. 

Last night when I realized I had not posted a word, I lay horizontal in my comfy bed. Dynamite would not have moved me. Hence the word free, I am free to choose not to do something. 

I am free to choose who to worship. The young man pictured above made an impression on my soul. He participated in a native dance exhibition when we visited Peru. He danced before the Lord with all his heart and all his might. He will live in my memory as a perfect picture of free.

If Lent teaches us anything, it is that we need Jesus. His death gave me freedom. I cannot earn His love, deserve His forgiveness, or merit His grace. 

If the Son of Man makes you free, you will be free indeed. John 8:36