Play Like a Girl

That phrase doesn't mean what it used to. In fact, I've never ever said that in my life (I know better). I grew up in Martin, Tennessee, and playing like a girl meant that you were pretty good.

I was at a doctor's office early this morning in Paducah, and heard on local television that Nadine Gearin died - and I am in mourning.

Nadine was (I think) the first women's basketball coach at UT Martin, coaching from 1969-74. In 1971, her team went to the first national basketball tournament (at that time, it was called the Division of Girls and Women's Sports). On that team was a young woman and basketball standout from Cheatham County High School, Trish Head. You might know her now as Pat (Head) Summitt.

I don't know how widespread Nadine's death will be in the sports world; if it is not, it will be a crime against women's athletics. Nadine and Bettye Giles (who was the athletic director at UT Martin for many years) are the ones who helped Pat get her first - and only - coaching job at the University of Tennessee. Nadine was once quoted to say that she coached basically so that the women at the school would have an opportunity to play basketball. But I know better than that. (the above picture, from left to right: Bettye Giles, Pat Summitt, Nadine Gearin, as pictured in UT Martin's Campus Scene, Summer/Fall 2003 - an article well worth reading.)

I was a little kid when our women at UT Martin went to the national tournament. But I remember the hoopla, and I remember when Pat was selected to be on the USA Olympic team. All of that rubbed off on a lot of us. My high school girls' team always did well in post-season play, and Martin Westview has won several state tournaments. I once made the mistake of playing in a choose-up basketball game at the end of a girls basketball practice (I have the worst shot in the history of humankind). I was guarding Lyn Franklin, and she was posted up on the low post. I was determined that if she got the ball I was going to block her shot. She got the ball, and the next thing I knew I was sweeping dust across the lane. She threw a hip on me that sent me scattering. She learned that, I am sure, from Julia (White) Brundige, who was Lyn's middle school coach... who played basketball with Pat and squad at UT Martin. Coached by Nadine Gearin. Coincidence? I think not.

I really didn't know Nadine until I was an adult. When I was about to graduate from college, the records office called me and told me I was short 3 hours of physical education. So I signed up for a basketball class - and the professor's name next to the class schedule was "N. Gearin." I was going to get to have the coach for class.

She agreed that I had the worst basketball shot she'd ever seen. And she just didn't throw out basketballs and send us playing. We had written tests. We set up offenses and defenses. Went over the basics of screening, posting, running and breaking the press - all the fundamentals. Nadine knew I had started officiating basketball and she gave me some great advice: "McCracken, learn and study what the coaches are learning in coaching clinics. Know how the offenses are executed. You should know that coaches are always looking for a leg-up when it comes to the officials - don't get suckered by their charm." That's advice that has served me well.

I later got to know her when I moved back to Martin after seminary. I think the second time I saw her at a restaurant or at Walmart and called her "coach," she told me, "Sky, call me Nadine."

I am thinking about how much Coach Summitt has done for women's athletics in the United States. Girls/women's softball is big, big, big. Volleyball is slowly gaining respect as a high school and intercollegiate sport. And of course, women's college basketball is now televised regularly. Nadine Gearin, Bettye Giles, and UT Martin were a foundational and pivotal part of that.

I hope and pray that sports historians will take note of the passing of Coach Nadine Gearin. "Playing like a girl" has become a compliment because of her legacy.

Pax,

Sky+

[From Today's Church Newsletter]

A few days ago, the oldest surviving manuscript of the Bible, the Codex Sinaiticus, was fully digitized and put up on the Web (you can view it here). I must say that it was just about as exciting to me to view as I was excited when I went to the Holy Land in 1996. From its website:

The Codex Sinaiticus, a manuscript of the Christian Bible written in the middle of the fourth century, contains the earliest complete copy of the Christian New Testament. The hand-written text is in Greek. The New Testament appears in the original vernacular language (koine) and the Old Testament in the version, known as the Septuagint, that was adopted by early Greek-speaking Christians. In the Codex, the text of both the Septuagint and the New Testament has been heavily annotated by a series of early correctors.

The significance of Codex Sinaiticus for the reconstruction of the Christian Bible's original text, the history of the Bible and the history of Western bookmaking is immense.

The fragment to the right shows an erasure (from Quire 40, folio 2 recto).

You are probably like me, in that I so much take the Bible for granted that I often forget how old it is, and how many times it was translated, studied, and prayed over so that we might have it in its present form today.

Of course, the Bible’s greatest gift to us is that it is a living book, not just a historical book of antiquity. And in perhaps the greatest play on words of all time, we read in John’s Gospel that Jesus is the logos – that is, The Word. So within the written word, we have The Word – Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ.

So the next time you pick up your Bible, be careful. It’s alive, you know!

Pax,
Sky+

What If This Isn't Real? Or What If It Is?

I rarely watch television or go to movies (which is funny, because I have a really nice HD television and my daughter works for Cinemark Theatres). But today I watched the last hour or so of "The Truman Show" on TBS. The movie bothers me more than I can say. If you haven't seen the movie, the basic plot summary is this:

In this movie, Truman is a man whose life is a fake one... The place he lives is in fact a big studio with hidden cameras everywhere, and all his friends and people around him, are actors who play their roles in the most popular TV-series in the world: The Truman Show. Truman thinks that he is an ordinary man with an ordinary life and has no idea about how he is exploited. Until one day... he finds out everything. Will he react? Written by Chris Makrozahopoulos {makzax@hotmail.com}

At the end of the movie, Truman is in a boat and hits the "end" of the world. The producer of the show talks to him out of desperation to keep him from leaving, and Truman asks, "Was anything real?" After being begged/guilted by the producer to stay, Truman utters his famous words he says nearly every day, "Good morning. And in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, and good night." And he takes a grand bow, and walks through the exit door. And the world cheered as they watched on television.

There is no mistaking two things: one is that Psalm 139 figures prominently in the movie (the sailboat at the end of the movie has "139" on the sail). The other is that the ending of "The Truman Show" is eerily similar to the ending of the C.S. Lewis Narnia book Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

From Eugene Peterson's The Message:

^1-6 God, investigate my life; get all the facts firsthand.
I'm an open book to you;
even from a distance, you know what I'm thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back;
I'm never out of your sight.
You know everything I'm going to say
before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and you're there,
then up ahead and you're there, too—
your reassuring presence, coming and going.
This is too much, too wonderful—
I can't take it all in!

^7-12 Is there anyplace I can go to avoid your Spirit?
to be out of your sight?
If I climb to the sky, you're there!
If I go underground, you're there!
If I flew on morning's wings
to the far western horizon,
You'd find me in a minute—
you're already there waiting!
Then I said to myself, "Oh, he even sees me in the dark!
At night I'm immersed in the light!"
It's a fact: darkness isn't dark to you;
night and day, darkness and light, they're all the same to you.

^13-16 Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;
you formed me in my mother's womb.
I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
you know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I'd even lived one day.

^17-22 Your thoughts—how rare, how beautiful!
God, I'll never comprehend them!
I couldn't even begin to count them—
any more than I could count the sand of the sea.
Oh, let me rise in the morning and live always with you!
And please, God, do away with wickedness for good!
And you murderers—out of here!—
all the men and women who belittle you, God,
infatuated with cheap god-imitations.
See how I hate those who hate you, God,
see how I loathe all this godless arrogance;
I hate it with pure, unadulterated hatred.
Your enemies are my enemies!

^23-24 Investigate my life, O God,
find out everything about me;
Cross-examine and test me,
get a clear picture of what I'm about;
See for yourself whether I've done anything wrong—
then guide me on the road to eternal life.

- Psalm 139, The Message

Do I really want God to know me that well? The fact that He does used to disturb me to no end. I now realize how freeing that is.

Is anything real? Is it all just a dream? Are we just actors - marionettes in a controlled environment manipulated as God wills? I pondered this question for a very large part of my life. Finally, I realized that I was using the word actor wrongly all along; God is the actor in our lives and in creation. We're not puppets or actors - we are children of the Father, fearfully and wonderfully made.

When Truman walked through the exit, he finally knew who he was - not an actor to perform for the world, but a child created to live according to his dreams and gifts. Those come from God - not a script. When we move from seeing ourselves as actors towards being prophets created to dream and vision, we are on our way to being disciples, and disciple-makers.

May we be strong enough to walk out the exit of this world into the Kingdom of God.

Pax,

Sky+

More Roots

On Sunday, I decided to go to church at Pittsburg (KS) FUMC. Pittsburg is where both my mom and dad went to college (Pittsburg State... the only school I've ever heard of with a gorilla as their mascot!). I went to the 9 AM service, and as I pulled into the parking lot a van pulled next to my car... and my cousins John and Carol Schifferdecker walked out. So I had familiar faces to sit with at church.

The summer sermons at Pittsburg FUMC are dealing with their history - where they came from and where they are going. As the pastor talked about the origins of their church, I learned that they were originally an extension of the Mulberry parish 100 years ago. Now Mulberry doesn't show up on many maps, but my mother's side of the family came from Mulberry - many of them still living there. My ears pricked up because Mulberry UMC is where my parents got married on Christmas Eve in the very early 1960's. The picture shows the happy couple (Midwesterners don't smile in pictures, I have found), along with my Aunt Bev and Uncle Ed, who served as maid of honor and best man. I think my cousins Maricia (Houghton) Stafford and Mark Lehman are ring bearers (I thought wrong - that's KIM Houghton in the picture, NOT Maricia! Good catch, Maricia!! Maricia was the flower girl at John and Carol Schifferdecker's wedding though.). Not pictured in this photo but at the wedding was Carol Schifferdecker (mentioned above), my mom's cousin and good friend who played the organ at the wedding. John and Carol came all the way down to Tennessee nine years ago when my mother died. I am blessed with wonderful family and roots.

It gets better - a mission team from Pittsburg FUMC went to Appalachian Service Project a few weeks ago... and lodged here in Paducah at Trinity UMC on their way to East Tennessee. You just can't make this stuff up! How cool is that?

This is a picture of my father next to a communication tent while serving in the Army during the Korean War. Dad came back safe and sound. My Uncle Dewey served as a stateside mechanic during World War II, and also came home. However, my Uncle Howard, whom I never met, never came back from World War II, M.I.A. to this day and a horrible mystery to my family, worse than an itch that cannot be scratched. Uncle Ed was the last to see him alive, and I am sure that memory haunts him to this day. McCrackens were no stranger to death and could accept death; a baby daughter of my grandparents, Beth, lived only a few days. As my Dad once said, having a funeral and a casket or urn gives us closure; an M.I.A. loved one, though, remains an unfinished chapter at best.

Here are pictures of a very young Sky McCracken sitting at an organ in our house, and a picture of my father as a baby being held by my grandmother. Both remind me of beginnings and where I have come from - and how important legacy is.

Pax,
Sky+

Note: Any of the pics can be enlarged by clicking on them.

Roots

I don't get away very often to the area where my parents grew up - and I am not proud of that. While my mother has been dead for nearly nine years, her family is still very prominent in Southeastern Kansas, as is my father's. So I was finally able to get away for a few days and take my dad here to visit with his remaining brother and sister. Once, he had nine siblings. Time is taking its toll.

My dad is staying with his brother this evening, so I headed back to the hotel about 25 miles away to read and write a little. On the way back I stopped at the cemetery where several family are buried - I probably haven't been back there since I was a teenager. I took pictures of several gravestones, including my great-grandfather's, Andrew Johnson McCracken.

I don't get maudlin about such things, and I'm certainly not sentimental when it comes to burial sites (when my time comes, I'd rather they just cremate me and let the wind carry me where ever it will), but there is something wonderful about walking on the land where your relatives once walked. I always take time to walk around the farms where my uncles lived (and live), knowing that my grandparents once lived there and raised my father there.

As I say every Sunday to my congregation: life is short. Don't have regrets. Visit your relatives when you can. Be swift to love, and make haste to be kind.

Pax,

Sky+

Late For Your Own Funeral?

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
² a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³ a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
⁶ a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸ a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

It actually happened - a funeral that started about 1 1/2 hours late because the deceased was late. There was a good reason: the motorcycle escort - all 18-some motorcycles - bringing Robbie Sturma's ashes got delayed.

When I heard that a biker group called "The Regulators" was bringing Robbie's urn to the church via motorcycle, I had a moment of fear: being a Stephen King fan, the word "regulator" brings to mind a very fearful image. However, these bikers were Regulators all right:

• Recovery
• Experiencing
• Gratitude
• Understanding
• Loyalty
• Accepting
• Tolerance and
• Obtaining
• Rewards
• Spiritually

Many of these folks were Narcotics Anonymous members, as Robbie was. The testimonies from friends and families were short but powerful. The "captain" of the group, a tattooed man in leather who walked with an obvious limp, spoke eloquently and passionately about the man whom he had sponsored in N.A. so many years ago, and how many people Robbie had befriended and helped along the way. Robbie was a BIG man - but it seems his heart was even bigger. His story was a story of redemption - and what a powerful story.

Many of these folks were REAL bikers - not just people like me who happen to ride a motorcycle. They looked and dressed the part. But as I have learned over the years, never

judge a book by its cover. Large imposing people often have hearts that match their size. "Rough looking" folks have often been weathered by life and have mastered disciplines and faithful lifestyles than many of us can only pray for. Both times that I have had motorcycle breakdowns, it was bikers that stopped both times to brings some tools or simple companionship to get me back on the road.

Some context: I have done more funerals this year that I care to count. Last week it was a couple that died in their sleep and a man who died from Parkinson's disease. I was getting depressed and fighting despair. Some preachers have been accused of being a "Marrying Sam", but I feared being called "Rev. Kevorkian." While the prospect of a biker funeral didn't really worry me, I worried about how church folks would handle men in leather vests and women in leather halters.

How did my church embrace these folks? With open arms. The funeral got started late - but folks waited patiently. And as is the tradition here at Reidland, a grief meal followed the funeral - and this time with food enough not only for the immediate family, but for EVERYONE gathered.

I cannot count the number of folks who came up to me and said how welcome they felt and how gracious my church was to them.

The Kingdom of God is like a lot of things. Sunday, it was like a biker funeral. I needed Sunday. It was a reminder to me of redemption and resurrection. God can do anything, if sometimes we will get out of the way.

Pax,

Sky+

A Culture of Distrust – Emulating Principalities and Powers

I have been attending Annual Conferences since 1986. I took a pastoral appointment in 1987. I even came to conference while away in Atlanta in seminary. I sat at the secretary’s table for several annual conferences. I now chair a conference commission. I represent the Order of St. Luke at the General Board of Discipleship. All to say that I think I am qualified to share some observations after attending twenty-three (23) sessions of the Memphis Annual Conference, as well as four General Conferences and three Jurisdictional Conferences, serving once as a delegate.

For several years, I thought we were unique among annual conferences – we are small, we all know each other fairly well, and we are very good about caring for and being involved in the lives of others. I think we are very good at nurture, especially when tragedy strikes.

But I fear that we have a very bad side – we are extremely ingrown, and annual conference sessions can become a time of jockeying, horse trading, oneupmanship, and manipulation. These are things that should not happen in a covenant community, but they do happen in a culture of distrust. If the divisions were as simple as conservative/liberal or orthodox/progressive, it might be a little more tolerable. But as one “outsider” remarked to me, it’s more like “20% vs 20% vs 20% vs 20% vs 20%.” We have factions. We have meetings after the meetings. And then sub-meetings after that meeting. I suspect there are text messages going on during THAT meeting.

It showed on the conference floor again this year. One person was able to “guilt” the conference into budgeting additional funding for a new conference position AND for our conference camp and retreat center. Both are certainly worthy causes; in fact, I don’t know any conference agency or outside agency that we help fund that isn’t a worthy cause. However, we only had enough income to fund 79% of our budget last year. Our conference finance folks held hearings to give folks the opportunity to make their case and allow them to prayerfully consider our conference budget – and presented their best work. We also managed to insult the Director of Program Ministries in the process – without a word or reprimand from anyone else. So not only did we guilt the conference into passing a higher budget that we are probably unable to fund, we did so AND shot down both a conference committee and a brother in Christ at the same time.

I got to thinking; heck, I could make an emotional case for the commission I chair (Equitable Compensation). I could say – and support – that we need more money to help supplement the pay of ethnic minority pastors and women in ministry. I could make an emotional plea on the basis of equality. I could say that we need to level the playing field for pastoral remuneration and that this is a justice issue. I could say that we are a commission bound by church law with fiduciary responsibilities to prior claim items. And I am willing to bet that I could have been persuasive and eloquent enough to have gotten it passed.

That doesn’t mean it would have been right. More to the point, it is not the way a covenant community should function. Do we want to model this kind of behavior for our children and those new to the faith? That might makes right, or manipulation makes success? If we don’t, we had better change – because that is exactly what we are modeling for them and preparing them to inherit. That is assuming as a conference we survive financially and in number.

No one seems to want to say it: we are dying.

An Annual Conference should not just be about business – it should be the public model for how Methodists are faithful to the Body of Christ. As Methodists, conferencing has the status of being a communal practice that is a means of grace – something that helps us become sanctified as we move on toward Christian perfection. My concern is that our annual conference’s way of “doing” annual conference doesn’t even come close to doing that – and people leave feeling numb, cynical, and often defeated.

Is it possible that instead of being counter-cultural and leading people to the Kingdom, we have simply given in to the culture around us, modeling the principalities and powers of the world instead of wrestling against them?

Instead of doing a 180°, we Methodists may have done a 360°, and ended up right where the Wesley’s started the Methodist movement.

Can we do conference better? I think we can. Can we clergy reacquaint ourselves with the spirit of Christ, and the spirit of the Wesleys to make Methodism vibrant, instead of a lifeless, dead sect? I certainly pray so. Otherwise, the great Methodist experiment is going to fail.

No condemnation now I dread;

Jesus, and all in Him, is mine;

Alive in Him, my living Head,

And clothed in righteousness divine,

Bold I approach th’eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

Bold I approach th’eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

- “And Can It Be, That I Should Gain?”
Charles Wesley, 1738

Pax,
Sky+

Going to Conference - Constitutional Amendments

I have no idea if these amendments will provoke debate or boredom. My hunch is most folks won't read them in detail, people will read what has been written in the Reporter, Laity and Clergy Sessions will have some lobbying for and against them, and a few folks will watch the various videos (pro and con) that people have uploaded on You Tube. Fellow blogger Mark Covington has even compiled a host of these writings and videos here. 

It is no secret that I am not in favor of the amendments, but it is less about being against "inclusivity" and more about honesty and practicality. If the proponents were honest and would say that this is a referendum about homosexuality and a backlash about one isolated incident in Virginia, it would perhaps institute an honest debate. As it stands, it seeks to institute change through a trap door. Some will say, "Whatever it takes." I don't think the Church can ever begin to be faithful by being dishonest. As the saying goes, "The ends do not justify the means."

Another aspect of all this that disturbs me are the words of a district superintendent in Liberia. While a big selling point to the amendments regarding the restructuring the General Church has been to empower our churches in Africa, Asia, and Europe, the Rev. Jerry Kulah of the Monrovia District says that no African leaders (or for that matter, no grassroots UM's in Africa) were even consulted about the matter. "Most United Methodists in Africa are not [even] aware” of the proposed amendments, much less have an understanding of the changes that could result if the amendments are passed. For that matter, he is “not sure that [most] United Methodists in America are [aware] either.” He concludes his video by saying, "Many of us who are leaders of the church in Africa do not favor passing these amendments right now."

The cynical side of me asks this: Have we become so agenda-laden as a denomination that we would use political correctness to dictate the canon law and doctrine of our church? If that's true, it is possible that we have created a real "P.C." problem: as a denomination, are we going to decide to be pro-homosexual at the cost of being anti-African? I shudder to think what would mean historically, theologically, and practically. Sounds like we are trading off "-isms."

The practical side of me wonders how many unintended consequences will result just by changing Article IV with the addition of "no conference or other organizational unit of the Church shall be structured so as to exclude any member or any constituent body." Does that mean that the UMW, UMM, UMYF, and other bodies and units would be unconstitutional? Does that mean that boards of ordained ministry can no longer examine candidates for ministry? And when it comes to church membership, do people have a "right" to claim membership - and implied discipleship - in the Kingdom of God? The Great Commission says we are to go make disciples. Discipleship requires cost and sacrifice. The amendment could be legally construed to render any questions regarding sacrifice, doctrine, and morality moot, since such things would run tangent to the proposed language, "all persons shall be eligible." Confirmation classes, new membership classes - all unnecessary, and perhaps even unconstitutional.

Practically, as far as the restructuring of the General Church is concerned - no one knows how the amended regional structures will be implemented - or how much it will cost. Given that we cannot afford our present structure, how can we budget and afford another level of bureaucracy?

I don't think that's what we intend, or even what we want. But I don't see how we'll avoid it - and instead of our decisions about church doctrine and practice being decided by the Holy Spirit, they will be decided by the Judicial Council, who will go by the law - which we're about to change. 

We have amended the U.S. Constitution twenty-seven (27) times since 1787. We are proposing thirty-two (32) amendments to the UMC's Constitution all at once. My colleague Randy Cooper asks us to ask ourselves two questions of each amendment before we vote: 

1. Will this amendment strengthen the mission and ministry of the church? 
2. Will this amendment make clearer the church’s witness as the “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic” community called into being by Christ for the sake of the world?
   

I can't find many of the amendments to answer either of those questions in the affirmative. I fear that all this will do is further polarize people and issues in a denomination that is losing membership and becoming financially insolvent.

Lord, have mercy.

Christ, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.

Pax,

Sky+

The Cloud of Witnesses

[From Newsletter, 5/20/09]

I got more than I bargained for in teaching Christianity 101 on Sunday nights. While the crowd that has come so far was not my target crowd of younger folks who wanted to know more about the faith, I have found myself challenged by seasoned Christians who want to know even more about their faith. So after dissecting the creeds and examining essential Christian doctrines – and thinking we were done - we are now delving into how God worked through people and history to illuminate His will and wishes for us. As a result, I have had to go back and “restudy” early Christian history and the Early Church Fathers. It is serendipitous that my studies have coincided with the celebration of Older Adult Sunday and our OWLS (Older, Wiser, Laughing Souls) Banquet today – I am so reminded of how grateful we should be for those saints who have gone before us and on whose shoulders we stand upon.

I am reminded of this quote from one of my mentors, Prof. Justo Gonzáles (who always said when getting one of our names wrong that we gringos looked all alike) from his book The Story of Christianity:

Like it or not, we are heirs of… diverse and even contradictory witnesses. Some of their actions we may find revolting, and others inspiring. But all of them form part of our journey. All of them, those whom we admire and well as those whom we despise, brought us to where we are now.

Without understanding that past, we are unable to understand ourselves, for in a sense the past still lives in us and influences who we are and how we understand the Christian message… When we stand, sit, or kneel in church, when we sing a hymn, recite a creed, or refuse to cite one, when we build a church or preach a sermon, a past of which we may not be aware is one of the factors involved in our actions.

Cindy Hubble painted this mural/banner for our use last Sunday morning. It is a reminder to us how important our past is to our future in the faith (click on it to enlarge it).

God’s wisdom is ageless. Let us be open to it – and pass it on.

Pax,
Sky+

What We Take For Granted – What Is Granted Without Merit

Three things happened to me within 15 minutes that are still affecting me today. Those of you that know me know how deeply I feel about getting back to our Methodist roots where grace and the sacraments are concerned. After Sunday, I feel even more strongly about it.

Two men and I took communion to the unwillingly absent last Sunday. One of them was a man who was near death, another a man recovering from heart surgery, and the third was a couple where the husband has Alzheimer’s. The gentleman who was near death needed our assistance to partake – we were humbled beyond measure. We joked with the man that was recovering from surgery that we were there for “Last Rites,” and he laughed harder than we did. And the couple we served were grateful as well, the wife with words and the man with a peaceful expression after drinking from the cup.

When I take communion to older members who remember the older communion liturgy, I usually serve them with these words: “Take and eat this in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith with thanksgiving.” We were met with tears each time, which brought us close to tears as well.

I pray that we need not wait until death or our last years to finally figure out that God grants us as much grace as we need – if we’ll only open our arms to receive it. I know that I serve as a minister to all of these folks we took communion to on Sunday. But truth be told, on this particular Sunday I was as much ministered to as I was a minister. These people have a faith far beyond my own – and I pray that mine might increase each day.

Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom,

Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.

- Jacques Berthier, Taize Community, 1981

Pax,
Sky+