One Holy Moment: This Is My Body…Take, Eat

April 2, 2010 · Posted in Devotional, Faith, Jesus Christ, Worship, nostalgia · 1 Comment

Communion, or the Lord’s Supper, has always been a holy and solemn event to me, thanks largely to my grandfather.

I would not say that Pastor Bill Henager (my mother’s father) and I had a good many bonding moments. Ours was not the kind of grandfather/grandson relationship that led to many fishing expeditions or trips to the ballpark. He was a pastor, sure, but he was a working man. If he was awake, he was probably working. And, let me tell you, he woke up mighty early. Consequently, if you got too close to him, he would likely put you to work, as well. So, as a kid I steered as clear of him as was humanly possible most of the time.

Big Granddad, as we Strother kids called him, had been a farmer before he became a minister. He grew things. He raised cattle. He knew how to grow it, breed it, pick it, pull it, skin it, clean it, and cook it up. He never quit on such things. He carried them right into the ministry with him.

One thing my grandfather did that made an early and lasting impression on me was he baked his own unleavened bread. While other churches served little squares (or wafers, if you were Catholic or Episcopal) that were mass-produced in some factory somewhere, the members of our little congregation were served broken, uneven, homemade bits of unleavened bread, lovingly prepared by our pastor.

There was something ominous to me about that. Holding that broken piece of cracker with its jagged edges and irregularities, while listening to my grandfather read a portion of the passion of my Christ and then read the story of the Last Supper, where Christ reiterated to his bewildered followers the awful suffering that awaited Him only hours thence, always brought tears to my eyes.

I felt as if I were taking Communion under the very shadow of that Cross.

I confess that I made a conscious effort not to take many of my grandfather’s ideas into my own ministry when I became a pastor. I did not see eye to eye with him on more than a few things. That didn’t mean I didn’t love and respect him. I did. I do. I always will.

One thing, however, I did want to continue was the way he put a holy emphasis on the Lord’s Supper. I wanted my people to feel what I had felt as a boy. So, when I took a church in east Texas, only an hour from where he was pastoring the last church he would serve before being called to his reward, I planned a Communion for our congregation and then a personal trip to Mount Pleasant. Easter was just a couple weeks away.

In my grandmother’s kitchen, where her famous rolls were made and where her even more famous monkey stories were often told, my grandfather and I bonded. The sweetest moment I ever had with him was the day he taught me to bake unleavened bread.

I will never forget that Communion the following week. Easter was only days away. I stood behind the communion table. The deacons had served the people the bread and the cup. I read a portion of the story of the Last Supper, and then I picked up a rather large, uneven piece of bread from the silver tray on which it lay and snapped it in two. In the holy hush that had settled over us, that breaking of the bread could be heard all over the sanctuary.

I remember the way this one kid sitting near the front winced when the bread snapped in my hands. I remember hoping that holy moment would stay with him the way those moments from so many years before had stuck with me.

And when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me. ~1 Corinthians 11:23-25

Broken. His body. Broken. For me. For you.

Tags: Communion, Easter, Family, Jesus Christ, Lord's Supper, tradition

Merle Haggard, Barack Obama, Rainbow Stew, Utopia, and Easter

March 29, 2010 · Posted in America, Blog, Faith, Jesus Christ · 2 Comments

Eatin’ rainbow stew in a silver spoon,
Underneath that sky of blue.
We’ll all be drinkin’ free bubble-ubb,
An’ eatin’ that rainbow stew.

Not quite, Merle

Reading the news —and the divergent opinions— regarding health care reform and the general direction of the country, that old Merle Haggard tune came to mind. It reminded me to beware the governmental promise of Utopia.

For millennia, across oceans, on every continent, mankind has sought the best way to build a peaceful and prosperous life for himself. Every form of government imaginable has been tried, from despotism to theocratic monarchies to communism to democracy. Some have gone better than others; but none has been perfect. Each has been marred by failure. Most have trudged down a rough road to ultimate collapse and oblivion— a road paved with good intentions, high hopes, and empty promises.

America now stands at a crossroads. Two very different groups— each pointing in the opposite direction— say they know the way. If we will just believe, behave, and follow, we will find joy, peace, and prosperity. While I decidedly favor one group’s ideals over the other, I do not believe that either will lead us to a place free of conflict and crisis.

As much as I revere the men who founded and shaped America— men of vision, insight, and utter greatness; men with names like Jefferson, Franklin, Adams, and Washington— I do not place my ultimate hope for peace and meaning to my life even in the document they forged or the legacy they left.

As great as I believe the United States Constitution to be, there is a collection of writings as superior to it as the heavens are high above the earth. It is the Book that influenced the lives of most of those men so profoundly as to impact the kind of nation they envisioned, the kind of government they desired, the kind of freedom for which they yearned.

As we approach the event that separates the Founder of Christianity from every other religious leader the world has known, I am reminded that real peace only comes through and from the Prince of peace and true prosperity is measured by eternal measures and not temporal.

Nations rise and crumble. Governments come and go. Mouths that declare their own wisdom today are silenced tomorrow.

But Jesus lives…and because He does, hope and love will never die. And that reminds me of another tune…

Happy Easter.

Tags: America, American politics, Barrack Obama, Easter, Government, Jesus Christ

But I am Poor and Needy

November 15, 2009 · Posted in Blog, Devotional, Faith, Gospel, Jesus Christ · Comment

But I am poor and needy; Make haste to me, O God! You are my help and my deliverer; O LORD, do not delay. Psa. 70:5 (NKJV)

I saw him again today, this frail old man, dirty, heavily bearded, hollow-eyed and gaunt. He sits on the median of a busy intersection near my home, holding a cardboard sign that declares his destitute state and begs for help from passersby.

I had seen him before, but only as I hurried past him, on my way to whatever was next in my busy life. But today our eyes met. I looked into his and he into mine and I wondered what his story might be. How had he come to this place? What misfortunes, poor decisions, or cruel twists of “fate” had conspired to reduce this man to the place of an undignified beggar?

I looked and I saw myself. Crudely clad in the rags of unrighteousness. Hopeless to change my circumstance. Unable to rid myself of the stench and stain of sin.

Pass Me Not...

When I got home, I quickly turned to the seventieth chapter of the Psalms. I read the startling, sobering words of a king in distress. I listened as David, a rich and powerful king, declared himself “poor and needy.”

And my heart cried out, “So am I!”

I am poor and needy. I have so many needs that I will never be able to meet myself. I was glad that I could say with the Psalmist, “O God, YOU are my help and my deliverer. O LORD, do not delay.” Then, I choked out the words of the old hymn: “Pass me not, O gentle Savior; hear my humble cry. While on others Thou art calling, do not pass me by.”

And I heard Him whisper, “I am here.”

A Prayer For Today: “Father, I am as poor and needy as any person who has ever lived. I cannot save myself. I cannot clean myself up and present myself holy and undefiled to You. I need Your salvation. I need Your cleansing blood. Thank You for meeting my needs. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

Tags: Devotional, Faith, grace, hope, salvation