Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Spilling Over into Authenticity

I came in early to put the finishing touches on the slides for worship. It wasn’t long before I lit a few candles, to give me the familiar sense of sacred space. I couldn’t seem to settle in until the play of light and shadow was closer to what we see and feel while we sing. I began to quiet my mind and prepare to lead worship. Rodger had the “excuse” of being in Utah most of the last week, but even so, I was equally grateful to be back in our beloved basement. This was also the first time I was responsible for the order of worship and Rodger was curious about what I, and the Spirit, would do. Maybe he will share his take on what is happening in/with us.

Lindsey came in with her shawl arranged across her shoulders. I was surprised to hear she had worn it all week, and completely floored that she had slept with it, as well.

During the sermon discussion about joy, we managed to evidence it, sharing much laughter. After worship each week, the children usually eat any remaining communion bread. Tonight, though, Rodger broke the loaf in what turned out to be exactly the right number of chunks, reminding us that, as Bruggeman says, ours is a God of plenty. At this Table we have cause to be brimming over.

Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope! --Romans 15:13 The Message

We walked up to the table to dip our soft croutons. My oversized chunk absorbed juice so fast it broke away to swim heavily in the goblet. “Well, everybody gets a little finger juice,” I proclaimed as for the briefest flash I felt a twinge- of embarrassment, of shame- that was gone just as quickly and replaced with rejoicing. [Too many communions in starched Sunday dress, in serious surroundings; hard pews and solemn faces, passing dry soup crackers and drops of wine in glasses too small for sipping and savoring. And what were we expecting? An arid nugget to explode into prayer in our bellies? Hmpf.] Alice, thinking quickly, handed me the paper towel that had covered the bread. Others were dripping juice and we laughed, taking care of the situation without breaking stride. THIS was a meal.

My heart awed, I found my way to a seat (no yellow chair tonight as I moved around to lead.) I felt more whole than I had in longer than I could remember. My mind murmured, “This is what “authentic” means.” I looked up to see Rodger, with gusto, draining the rest of the grape juice. Plenty, indeed. We were engaged in a celebration of gratitude and rejoicing, and my hungry heart was fed.

Sola Deo Gloria.

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