I've always loved communion at church. It became one of my requirements when I started looking into a new church home. Growing up in the First Christian, Disciples of Christ, church, we took youth group classes before we participated in weekly communion. I looked forward to the music and prayers, that went with the explanations of the cup and the bread. When I moved to Rosarito, we picked up and took the communion elements back to our seats and shared with our families before the service started. It gave me more time for personal reflection.
Back in Nebraska, I was having a hard time deciding whether to go to the church that held weekly communion as opposed to attending church that celebrated communion once a month. One particular Sunday, I decided to go to First Christian serving weekly communion. That decision led me to a communion I’ll never forget.
I stole this from my journal entry of June 25, 2018, but it was as fresh today as it was two years ago; you'll also find the entry in Nehemiah & Me, Chapter 8. The night before June 25, I had been totally undisciplined, filling up on garbage and watching TV, so I really felt blah. That Sunday morning I wrote in my journal, “TODAY . . . Please, if I hear Your voice, let me not turn my back, let me not run like Jonah, but instead let me listen like Abraham and run to You like Samuel the boy You called to become a prophet. TODAY, let me seek Your face in all I see, for You, Lord, are holy; help me to be holy, “because it is written, ‘Be holy, for I am holy. (I Pet. 1:16).”
My plan was to let Ziggy the dog out first, then walk over to First Christian. Outside, I saw a young man sitting in the grass; his back pack beside him. He also held a clear plastic kitchen-sized garbage sack containing pieces of cardboard. I ignored my first reaction to ignore him. Instead I walked over and asked how he was doing. He looked familiar. Immediately, another young man came to mind. On Oct. 22, 2017, I wrote an entry about the young “homeless” man sitting on the concrete parking divider in the dark with his dog.
Today, this young man, handsome, maybe in his 20s’, blue eyes, reminded me of my son, Cam, 10 years ago. I asked his name and he said, “Bane (?)” and that he was just taking a break. My heart melted and wanted to keep talking, but my mind was telling me I’d be late for church if I didn’t leave. Still, I talked with him. He was excited to have found a turquoise-colored cell phone that worked. I asked him if he believed that God provided for him. His eyes brightened and he said, “Yes.”
I took Zig across the street to do his duty, but kept feeling that pull to talk to the young man some more. Not really knowing what to say, I told him that if anyone gave him a hard time for sitting out on the lawn, he should tell them that Jill said it was okay. (Duh). Ziggy, by now, was in his lap, face-to-face with him, giving little, not sloppy, kisses. Thinking back, Ziggy was taken with the young man, too. Zig was very calm and content as if he knew this man and wanted to stay with him. I apologized for my dog as I pulled on Zig’s leash to leave. The young man said he loved dogs.
Before saying goodbye, I offered to bring him some food when I came back from upstairs. He said, “That’d be good.” He was a little hungry.
“I’ll be right back,” I promised, then rushed to my apartment, quickly pulled out peanut butter, crackers… had to have a plastic spoon or something to spread the PB, and a bag of chips, water, and then wrote my name and number and the verse from Nehemiah 4:19-20 on a card. I hurried outside, fearing I’d taken too long.
He was gone. My heart sank. I drove around for several minutes searching for him downtown. The longer I drove the worse I felt. I kept thinking of a Calvary Church sermon recently about Jacob’s story in Genesis. He wrestled with God, and would not let go until God had blessed him. Jacob was then renamed “Israel,” by God. So it occurred to me that I should not have let go of the young man. I couldn’t explain the overwhelming love and longing I felt toward him. I shouldn’t have let him go, I shouldn’t have been so concerned about communion, I should’ve done more to tend his needs and spent more time talking to him. His presence grabbed me so emotionally. I sensed You, Lord. I really sensed You in his face. But again, like the boy in October, You disappeared on me.
Finally, after praying while driving around downtown in search of you, I was heart-broken, but I parked and went in to First Christian, 25-30 minutes late. I felt as if I'd chosen communion over spending more time with You. But there’s the irony. I did have communion with You. I was blessed by You, and Ziggy was blessed too. I learned some important lessons that morning.
I also learned it doesn't matter if I'm with a gathering of people or alone; and now since the Quarantine, churches conduct a communion service on-line, so when I take communion in my living room, it doesn't matter whether the church service was taped last week or premiering "live." What matters is I'm remembering Christ's selfless death and resurrection, and the fact that He instigated the act of communion with only one stipulation: When believers are gathered, remember Him through this act of communion.
Don't be fooled if you tell yourself that since you're not actually in church participating in corporate communion, that it doesn't count. It's not real. Wrong! The Holy Spirit moves our heart and soul, and we can feel Him if we sit still long enough. He makes our heart yearn and burn with a desire to serve God. Unfortunately, we don't always pay attention or we doubt His presence because distractions distance us from the truth. Although we might not be able to take communion the way we're used to or attend a large assembly of believers, but what counts is realizing God is with us.
and we should keep our attention on Him. .. Chapter 10
LORD of Heaven, Creator of Earth, You are our Father. We set our faith on You. We praise You, LORD.
