As I sit here in my office eating a bowl of Campbell’s Tomato Soup, some saltine crackers, and a Jell-o Pudding Cup for lunch (yes I am 5 years old) I have one story on my mind…
For those of you who know me, particularly those of you who’ve known me a long time, know that one of my greatest loves in life has been the game of softball. I joined little league for the first time during the summer between my fourth grade year and fifth grade years of elementary school. I had never played any sports before; and even seldom had I ever picked up a ball and thrown it in the backyard with Micah during the summers of our childhood; but somehow instinctively I picked up the ball at that first “tryout” (everyone makes little league after all) and a shortstop was born. It came natural to me, like I had always known exactly what to do with that funny looking neon green ball.
Batting, however, was another story. It’s not that I don’t have a good swing; my swing caught the eye of a 19 year old male counselor one year at Bible camp and would forever change my love life. But I just couldn’t seem to make contact with the ball. I tried and tried. I hit off of tees at practice, I did drills, but I just couldn’t seem to consistently make contact.
I tell you all of that to get here– my freshman year of high school. My arm and fielding ability had gotten me on the team and I was ok with that. But batting was still my Achilles heel, and was keeping me out of the starting line up. So there I stood in the batter’s box, swinging furiously at pitch after pitch from the machine, failing miserably to make contact with the majority of balls that were zooming my way. And I will never forget what happened next. My coach Kenny yelled at me across the field (he was an intimidating, yet excellent coach) “Stop trying to hit the ball with the bat and start watching the ball as it hits the bat….let it come to you instead of chasing after it.” And like most epiphany’s I’ve had in life, it hit me suddenly, and hit me quite hard, and immediately I learned how to make contact with a ball.
All I needed was that change in perspective.
A couple of weekends ago I had the privilege of spending some time with a group of my friends at a retreat in Converse, IN. Our preacher from Elmwood, Gilbert, was our keynote speaker for the trip. Gilbert’s lessons focused on “The Table.” We spent some time discussing and learning about the “table” life of the body of Christ. It was a nice topic for me (and hopefully everyone else on the trip) because communion is something that’s been eating at me since my sophomore year of college. You see, I don’t really care for the way communion is done, and I started wondering how we might benefit from changing it. In college I went through a time where I was heavily considering observing the Lord’s Supper every day, by myself. But something didn’t seem right about that. It seemed it would be too lonely and/or ritualistic.
It was the lack of community that it was missing. But I admit that as of recent I’ve been keeping my mind and my mouth shut so that I don’t get labeled as being a “change agent” or even worse “liberal” (I hope you are sensing the sarcasm.) And so I was happy to hear someone else (Gilbert) speak of their desire to go back to the Bible and rethink the way we’ve been doing communion.
I’ve heard the argument time and time again that we shouldn’t “do” communion every Sunday because it becomes meaningless. I disagree. I think we should be wanting and desiring to come to the table with other believers on a much more frequent basis than once a week. My heart and mind are telling me that we’re missing out on the affirmation provided when we sit down with one another, breaking bread, and declaring the Lord’s love for us.
What do you think? Does the church need a change of perspective on communion? Does anyone have experience with developing healthy habits for church life in this regard and can anyone give examples of how they’ve made the Lord’s tables intimate when you’re worshipping with a congregation of 300? I’m very interested in hearing some response.
I agree about really enjoying the different perspective presented on “The Table” over the retreat weekend. I definitely think the most powerful part of the entire weekend was putting some of that into practice on Sunday morning as we broke bread while we were still seated around the table following breakfast. Something about sharing a meal and directly associating that with the Lord’s Supper really brings to life what we see in the scriptures.
Our establishment of communion is probably way off from what Jesus intended. Growing up I perceived the solemn tradition as a time to “sit there and think about what you have done wrong,” much like a 4 year old in the time-out chair. The Lord’s Supper should probably be a more festive remembrance of our Lord and Savior, not a time to feel guilt over the countless sins we have committed. I do not know what the solution should be, but I think a change would be in our best interests.
I, unlike you Courtney, am a little terrified as being branded with the “L” word.
Ok, I feel the exact same way as Courtney, Craig, and Lester and have for some time now. I’m wondering how many more people feel this way, and is it a demographic thing or an understanding of scripture and a close relationship with God? I like to think the latter, but that would mean that many of our leaders are not really qualified to lead their congregations (save that for another time…). So what then? Do we literally eat a meal? That may hit more home, but all new things and changes will eventually become not new and fall into the pit of ritual again.
One thing I focus on, perhaps a little too obviously, when presenting comments on “the Lords Supper” is that it is every bit as much a celebration as it is a reflection on Jesus taking our place on the cross. It’s about the only time I’m so overjoyed at such a horrific event. I also have taught a class on the purpose of communion, and one of the points was that it is not intended to be a Lord’s Day Sacrament only. The early church did this everyday as was stated, and there is no reason we can’t do it on Wednesday nights, Tuesday bible studies, at lunch with a fellow Christian co-worker, etc. That is my suggestion for changing our Sunday morning ritual. Start during the week with a smaller group, keeping it intimate. Commune with each other with God in your midst. If it is done for his glory, he will reveal “his plan” in time. I honestly think this could be more of a logistical issue than a “changing attitudes” issue.
On that note, I want to add that I really think the idea of offering the bread and juice to people on Sunday night in a separate room just b/c they weren’t there on Sunday morning is totally ridiculous. Checking off the list is what that is. I realize that there may be several there doing it, but the entire thing is abbreviated, rushed through, and I seriously questions whether God is glorified. I don’t do it if I miss Sunday morning. I personally think we should all do it again Sunday night (assuming you have Sunday evening worship similar to Sunday morning, like my traditional congregation). Option #2 is to not offer it at all. Your thoughts on that?
Lastly, Lester, don’t be afraid of the “L” word. I’m sure you’re a great lover.
I like Jason’s thoughts as well.
To respond to the Sunday night solution: I think we are probably stuck with Sunday night communion for now, but I don’t think that will always be the case. I, too, view it as a list-checker, and when the rare opportunity for me to take advantage of it arises, I don’t. My guess is that it is a generational thing and many probably act as I do in the same situation. Since that is the case, Sunday night communion has pretty much received a death sentence from our generation. Only time will tell if that is true. That said, I think we must continue to offer it until no one is taking advantage of it. While there may be no spiritual value to it, I think we ought to respect the harmless religious practices of “older” generations. To do away with completely may be offensive to some, and then we may be breaching a “stumbling block” situation.
Jason–I didn’t even think of “lover,” but that makes 2 I am scared of!
Thanks for providing some temperance to the situation. With things like this (old religious traditions that have little or no value), my heart starts racing thinking of the time gone by and wasted and the wandering from the light. I’m not entirely sure we should just wait for the tradition to die with that generation, but I must always remind myself that Rome wasn’t built in a day. It took 2000 years to get to this point, and it’s not gonna get “fixed” in even one year. But really though, I’m not really sure these are “harmless” practices. Romans 14 can be read and interpreted from several different perspectives, including the stumbling block passage. I’d love to talk to you (and many others) about this more in person, b/c I definitely don’t have a great feel for how to perfectly apply it to our worship. I’m just too torn. Anyway, thanks for your comments, you’re the man I wish I was at your age.
Don’t worry about the lover thing, all males suck at it.