Finish Never

I have recently been missing a lot of things that will probably never come back to me. Missing sights and smells and sounds that fade insistently as new ones cloud my mind. Beautiful clouds; but clouds nonetheless. Attempting to describe a welcoming loaf of banana bread made fresh from the excess bunches in the backyard becomes more difficult when you’ve been eating cafeteria food for three years. Recalling how a passion fruit vine smells when the indigo flowers are just about to give way to their new sleepy fruit is a challenge when genetically engineered apples and oranges are the only fruits you see on a regular basis. I was recently overcome by a desire to lay flat as a skipping stone on a tile floor in the heat of a summer afternoon; to be immune to the world in sweet stillness while thinking of nothing at all.

I guess it all breaks my heart just a little. Which sounds cheesy. But I enjoy cheese, as do church mice.

The church is an interesting phenomenon. I am becoming a firm believer in Christians, on a regular basis, experiencing how Christians of other denominations worship, though also maintaining community within their own congregation. As I visit more churches, though, it truly allows me to step back and notice the binding agents in the family of Christ. In going to a Uniting Church here in Sydney, I have been transported back to my days in Yellowstone as the people pray prayers of Confession, or stand for a Call to Worship; acts of faith from people serving a God Who is far greater than even our words, but Who is alive and present in our words. Last night I went to Hillsong Church. You may have heard of it. : ) In being in the middle of hands raised high as they go, and lights scattering color across faces concentrated on adoration, I was transported back to a similar church visited on the East Coast of the U.S., where I stood beside my dad as I saw him raise his hands for the first time in a service, unguarded, since the last time we were in Rio together; a church where the technical perfection of a service is just as much praise to our God as humble half-tuned pianos and fading microphones might be. Uninhibited worship. Worship standing in the presence of a Saviour who swallows our stupidity and allows us to just …. Be.  

How I have missed being.

Because of many excursions and observations, the significance of the Eucharist has also grown in my life, based on simple experiences of it being practiced in different manners at different places. This last Sunday morning I went to a church that is very, very small and close-knit. Communion was one of the most beautiful things I have seen in a long time, and the sheer simplicity of it nearly made me cry. Because of the small amount of people, a few at a time came up and sat in the front pew. The pastor, along with two others, proceeded to hand each person an element, along with saying a few words to each. There was no hurry. There was no production or sense of accomplishment. Just … communion. The bread was a huge loaf with the toughest of exteriors and the softest of interiors, broken in half as the pastor initially read the NT passage on the Last Supper. As it was handed out to each person, the woman giving it tore thick, unrestricted segments from the soft inside; a very powerful visual for the Body broken and given.

This contrasts with a Catholic church attended several weeks back, where the Eucharist is obviously taken only by those who are members. Some friends of mine, in their experience at it, accidentally found themselves in the line to go up and take the elements, having not been aware of the restrictions. When arriving in the front of the line, and being recognized by the priest as not belonging, they were escorted back to their seats and asked to sit down.

There was certainly a level of magnificence, though, in observing characteristics of the belief in transubstantiation at that Catholic service. The priest solemnly consumed all that was left after the congregation had partaken, being diligent in leaving no trace. As the music drew to a close, he silently began  mixing pure water into the chalice and drinking the wash, then gathering crumbs from the plate and ingesting those, as well. Then, in a long-practiced manner of ceremony and service, wiped everything clean with a persistent white cloth.

Chambers once said, “Many of us are loyal to our notions of Jesus Christ, but how many of us are loyal to Him?”

Later he said, “Begin to know Him now, and finish never.”