Category: Lord’s Supper

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A Place In The Heart

When Hollywood gets it right, the church should applaud, even when it means admitting or confessing we’ve missed the mark.

The 1984 movie, Places in the Heart, was an Oscar winning picture with a star studded cast staring Sally Fields, Ed Harris, and Danny Glover. The setting is the Dustbowl, Depression Era of 1935 in Central Texas. The movie opens on a Sunday afternoon with Sheriff Royce Spalding at the railyards. Whylie, a cheerful black teen, accidentally shoots and kills Royce. Spalding’s body is gently and respectfully returned to his wife, Edna. Wylie is dragged behind a truck and then hanged.

The movie unfolds with Edna, a widow with two kids, trying to navigate life and to save the farm. Mr. Will, her blind brother-in-law boards with her as well as Moze, a black man who works for Edna and offers wisdom (he’ll be run out of town by the local KKK). Wayne Lomax has an affair with the school teacher, Viola.

The final scene of the movie bookends the opening scene as it occurs on a Sunday, this time at a church worship service. Viola and her husband, in an attempt to start afresh drive away, passing the church. As the camera moves past the doors of the hallowed building you see it open as if inviting Viola to come back, as if the answers to their marital problems lie here and not there on the road. Inside the building the choir can be heard singing, “This Is My Story.”

As the scene shifts to inside the church itself, the preacher reads from 1 Corinthians 13:1-8 during which Mrs. Lomax reaches for her husband’s hand. The choir begins singing In the Garden with the preacher reading the communion passage from 1 Corinthians 11. As the camera pans the spars congregation, we the pews suddenly filled with their faces coming into focus.

We see Moze. Moze? “Wait! Wasn’t Moze run out of town? How and when did he come back?” As he takes communion he passes the tray to Enda’s children, who passes it to their mother, Edna. Edna takes the tray and passes it to her husband, Royce. “Hold!” Royce cannot be present because he was shot and murdered in the opening scene of the movie, wasn’t he? Then he takes the plate and passes it to Wylie as the camera holds its gaze on the boy until it begins to fade with Royce’s final words, “Peace of God.”

Trying to make sense of the ending is part of the journey. Is this scene a dream? Is this scene an alternative reality?  Or maybe, just maybe what we find is a peek behind the curtain where everything gets reconciled at the Table.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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CHURCH: We’ll Need A Bigger Boat

I’m not much of a sea-faring sailor. I’ve done some waterskiing. Some. I once took a ferry across the Puget Sound on the way to British Columbia (my brother got sea-sick). A family trip once involved boating down the Willamette River from Oregon City to downtown Portland and back again. I can’t say I’ve ever been on the high seas or in a ship. I haven’t even been to the Ark museum.

Though lacking sea-faring experience, like you, I’ve been exposed to many sea-worthy passages in the Bible. A flood of epic proportions is experienced when telling the Noah story. Repentance is themed throughout the rebellious Jonah story (talk about the one that got away!). And Jesus walking on the water like he’s walking across the living room floor is gripping in and of itself.

But one Biblical story has somehow gotten lost in the deluge of sea-worthy stories. The moment takes place in Acts 27 when Paul is making his way to Rome to face a hearing before Caesar. In short, the ship Paul had boarded was secure in a port in Fair Havens on the island of Crete. But the harbor was not suitable for winterizing. The weather had already turned against them, making travel dangerous while delaying their progress. A better harbor in Phoenix was only fifty miles (plus/minus) around Crete. Hovering the shoreline, surely they could reach the port until spring.

Paul, maybe the smartest guy in the room, stood and spoke against that idea (Act. 27:10). But he was neither a sailor nor sea worthy. The captain and owner of the ship ignored his advice and set sails to Phoenix. Then the wheels fell off the train.

What started as a gentle wind turned into hurricane-like conditions (Act. 27:13-14). The storm took hold of the ship and pushed them off course. Way. Off. Course. Two weeks in the open seas forced the 276 people on board to were exposed and at risk. Tackle and other items were thrown overboard to lighten the load. Fear of the storm gave way to fear for running aground and being dashed against the rocks. The ship was all but torn apart.

In the middle of the dangerous chaos, two moments stand out in the Acts 27 narrative. First, Paul warns those wanting to abandon ship will be lost unless they stay on board (27:30-32). Logic and protocol told them to lower lifeboats and get away from the (potentially) sinking vessel. It looked like a losing battle. But the man who warned them against taking the trip to begin with warned them again. “Only those staying with the ship will be saved” (v. 31). In an act of faith, the sailors cut the ropes to the lifeboats and remained on board. True to Paul’s word, no one was lost even though the ship was eventually torn apart.

Secondly, having forsaken their meals for rationed survival, Paul encouraged them to eat in order to renew their strength (v. 33-34). They weren’t out of the storm yet, but were needing nourishment. But as Luke describes the meal, he frames it with Lord’s Supper language, “. . . he took bread and gave thanks to God in front of them all. Then he broke it and began to eat” (v. 35). Obviously, they were not taking the Lord’s Supper, but the Lord was present at this meal because he kept them safe. Thus, the Lord’s Supper hovered over this meal they were eating. And as Luke tells us, “they were all encouraged” (v. 36). 

As I reflect on 2020 and the hurricane-like storm that the church has been enduring, I can’t help but believe that Paul’s words are still ringing true today. First, fear forces us to abandon ship and in this case ship is our local church/congregation. Church is far more than a building; it’s the people who fill that building. We’re connected, bonded and committed to each another. And when we cannot be together in person, the temptation to abandon any connection intensifies. If we’re meeting with social distancing protocols in place, we meet and follow the rules. If we’re only online, then we step into the online presence. But the rest of the week, we check in with our brothers and sisters to ensure they’re still safely aboard for the worst mistake to make is abandoning ship. Let’s ride this storm out, together.

Secondly, stay nourished. As we’re continuing to meet together (in person or online), celebrate the Lord’s Supper and allow it to be the focal point of the assembly. Like attendance, when life gets hard or feelings of failure surface, abandoning the Supper is an easy step to make. Instead, like famished people, we should run to the Table for Jesus makes his presence known at the Supper.

When “all hands are on deck” and “we batten down the hatches,” we’ll find that God will keep us safe and secure through the storm. When others see the presence of God in the midst of this storm, they’ll want to join us. And when they do, we’ll need a bigger boat.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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More Than A Meal: Reflections on the Lord’s Supper

I grew up with the Lord’s Supper as a staple in worship. I have no memory of the Church assembling on Sunday mornings without passing the trays. I can remember asking my mother why I could not eat the crackers and drink the juice. She explained that the bread and wine were for Christians to remember Jesus, and I wasn’t a Christian. I also remember asking why we ate the crackers first, and she enlightened me with her rich theological response, “We always take a drink after we eat something.”

I remember one time in Tillamook, Oregon how the person serving the Supper accidently passed out the juice first. Before passing the bread, the guy who prayed ask God for forgiveness for doing the Supper wrong.

When I was a teenager, my dad led the Sunday night Communion service. The members who missed Sunday morning were invited to come forward and sit on the front pew. Dad said one single prayer for both the bread and the cup before serving them. I don’t remember anyone ever questioning the procedure.

When I got my driver’s license, I was asked to take Communion to an elderly lady. While I cannot remember her name, I remember going to visit her. With the portable Communion box, I prepared to give her the bread and cracker. The moment of offering the Supper was the first time I felt uneasy about what I was doing, but I didn’t have an understanding for the Supper to properly ground my belief. I had already taken the Lord’s Supper at the worship hour, so I didn’t have to take it with her, right?

When I went to college, I spent my breaks at my brother’s house in Nashville. At the time he was highly involved in two ministries that occupied much of Sunday. Since he was my ride, I’d go with him to worship, then to a local nursing home for worship, then to the local jail for another worship. We celebrated the Supper at the assembly. When we went to the nursing home, we broke bread with the residences, even helping them break the bread and drink from the cups. When we went to the jail and worshiped with the inmates, we broke bread with them as well. It started to hit me. What if I refuse to break bread with my brothers who were in prison? What if I told them, “No thank you, I already ate”? Would my actions have created distance and possibly even shamed them and left them thinking I was better than they? If we’re invited to eat at someone’s home, do we refuse?

So over time my experience has led me to some conclusions about the Supper. First, if Jesus is hosting the meal (it’s the Lord’s Supper), then I’m sitting with him at his table. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve eaten that day, I’ll eat once more if I can eat with Jesus. Secondly, if anyone wants to join us, I’ll not be the one to stop them. I’m not the host, Jesus is. If they’re taking it in a wrong way, so have I and Jesus never stopped me. I’ve spent most of my adult life with a legalistic and judgmental approach to the Supper and Jesus was patient with me. I can extend that same grace to others. Thirdly, our tradition and practice enforces an individualistic view of the Supper never intended by Jesus nor the Apostles. While the meal is a community event, we’ve convinced ourselves that the meal is between an individual and God (a common misunderstanding of 1 Cor. 11:28).

I’m glad that the Lord’s Supper is a staple in worship. I anticipate our times together with Jesus at the Table because it’s more than a meal.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)