Skip to main content

Free in All, Free for All

One thing I’m frequently asked is what I enjoy most about serving as a pastor. Frankly, it’s difficult to pick a “favorite” aspect of the role. There are certainly some things I look forward to more than others, but one truth I’ve discovered during my almost ten years in ministry thus far is that the blessings far outweigh the hardships—and that the miraculous tends to shine even in the mundane, if I keep my heart tuned to God’s.

An example of this took place not long ago as we gathered for our Singing & Communion at McKenzie Healthcare. Actually that ministry’s a high point of my month, and consistently speaks to me in some manner—often in one I wasn’t aware I needed. But that isn’t to say it’s easy. It’s quite challenging at times to be in environments where so many are struggling or hurting in some way—especially when you’ve had family members who have resided in similar facilities. It doesn’t take much for the floodgate of memories—many of which are less-than-pleasant—to be opened.

During our most recent outing, we assembled as usual. We prayed. We sang. And then we came to the Table. Recalling Christ’s words, the bread was broken and the cup was shared. Our lay leader, Jennifer, and I moved from person to person, offering the sacrament. It’s normative for some of the residents to need to be stirred from sleeping. It’s normative also for a couple to decline. But I couldn’t have imagined one particular response this day.

As we approached the woman, her expression seemed to question our intent. Jennifer spoke first, extending a wafer and asking whether she wanted to partake. Still a bit perplexed, we explained to her that this was Communion—and that we wanted to share. In that moment a despondent look crossed her face; quietly, she admitted, “I don’t have my purse.”

“You don’t need your purse,” Jennifer said; “It doesn’t cost anything,” I followed. And her eyes glimmered as she received the bread, then the juice—fed freely by grace.

Our response was immediate, but the weight of the woman’s remark rang in my ears for what felt like hours. How often do we miss God’s goodness or distance ourselves from it by thinking it necessary that we be somehow deserving? That we be “good” enough? That it isn’t for us because of where we’ve been, or due to some deficiency in us? Were this true, salvation would be out of bounds for everyone.

But the good news is that Jesus bids us to come as we are. And the only thing asked of us is that we love him in return. In this may our spirits rejoice. In this may our hearts find hope.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Resurrection? No, Thanks

Resurrection of the Lord (C) | 31-Mar-13 Acts 10.34-43 | 1 Corinthians 15.19-26 | Luke 24.1-12 It’d been three days.  But the terrifying images were still clear in their minds.  The horror of Friday was still all too near: the mocked, beaten, bloody, and nail-pierced horror of their beloved teacher and friend hanging—suffocating to death—on a rugged, wooden cross.  Emotionally spent and physically exhausted, it took all the strength they could muster just to rise that morning.  But they did.  At dawn, the women rose—among them Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Joanna—and made their way to the tomb, carrying “the spices that they had prepared” [1] to anoint his body: to give him a proper burial, to offer him one final honor. They froze in their tracks.  The Magdalene’s basket slipped from her hands and fell to the earth, saturating the dust with oil and perfume.  The women stood aghast at what they beheld: the stone had been m...

Got Figs?

Repentance.  It’s a central word in the Christian faith.   The idea’s present from the very first verses of the earliest-written gospel, with a camel hair-clad preacher “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” [1]   Especially during this present season of Lent, the call seems to pop up time and again: in our liturgies, in our prayers, and in our hymnody, we’re over and over beckoned to repent. And the scripture readings for the third Sunday in Lent are no exception.   A common thread of the human being’s need for repentance is clearly traceable throughout—from the prophet’s admonition to the wicked to “forsake their way” and “return to the Lord ,” [2] to St. Paul’s caution against desiring (craving, lusting after) evil. Yet the call to repent is possibly nowhere clearer than in the gospel lesson.  Jesus, speaking with some folks about persons who’d been tragically killed, puts the question to his listeners: Do you think their fate...