A Gift Received

“So… you’re taking off now?” I heard her voice from the kitchen just as I grasped the doorknob.

            There it was. That was my cue.  Initially, this had looked like it might be an in-and-out troubleshooting job. Exchanging a faulty power cord is about as quick and easy as these calls get. But this visit held the promise of something more personal.

            In the years that I have been putting help button units in client’s homes, I’ve become aware that there is very often much more going on than what appears on the surface to be simply an installation of equipment. This has happened to such an extent that it is now my practice to precede each of these opportunities with prayer and the expectation to encounter the Holy in some way.

            Over the next 20 minutes or so, I learned quite a bit about this lady; her community involvements, favorite restaurant, favorite food, where she grew up, how long she’d lived in her home, her maiden name, her deceased husband’s name, and how many children they had together. Lastly, she shared with me her disappointment in no longer being able to enjoy her favorite hobby because of arthritis.

            “What was it you liked to crochet?” I asked. “Open that drawer,” she pointed, “the top one next to the stove.” I nearly couldn’t; it was stuffed so full of potholders, all crafted from a bright palette of yarn. Admiring aloud her work, I lifted up one after another from the drawer.  “This one reminds me of the fields before harvest. This one has the colors of the beach.”

            “You like that red one? Take you a couple more. I have plenty.” I chose two and thanked her for them.

            “The best way to understand sacraments is to think of them as visible words. They are the way that God says, “I love you.” God says this to us in bread, wine, and water – the simplest things of everyday life.”[i]

            Do you see the connection that I do? Since I’m not being graded here, perhaps I can risk creeping a little further out on this limb.  With no one to receive them, my client’s handmade potholders held no value to her. The packed kitchen drawer held hours upon hours of time that had gone unfulfilled. But in having her gift received, a kind of consummation took place.

            “This is my body, given FOR YOU,” “This is my blood, shed FOR YOU for the forgiveness of sins.” “Here you have both – that is Christ’s body and blood and that they are yours as a treasure and gift. Christ’s body cannot be an unfruitful, useless thing that does nothing and helps no one.”[ii]

            Those of us who communicate via text messaging certainly shouldn’t miss Luther’s strong emphasis; the use of all caps is the equivalent of shouting. The whole point of the sacrament is FOR YOU to receive it.  It is through this means that Christ is present with us today, fulfilling God’s purpose of communion with God’s people.

            Listen for it this week. “In the night in which he was betrayed, our Lord Jesus took bread…” That’s your cue that a promise is about to be fulfilled, but it can’t happen without you.

---

[i] Crazy Talk: A Not-So-Stuffy Dictionary of Theological Terms, edited by Rolf A. Jacobson, published by Augsburg Books, 2008, p. 151.

[ii] Martin Luther, The Large Catechism, “The Sacrament of the Altar,” 64-65, 29-30.

Passing Through Class V Waters

There's a very good reason I am not in this photo. 

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
   I have called you by name, you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
   and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; (Isaiah 43:1-2 NRSV)

It is no accident, I’m sure, that our professor chose this text for us to practice one of the ways to pray with scripture. As new seminary students, we shared varying degrees of uncertainty and anxiety. And there would be more opportunities for fear and doubt to gain hold this past year as we struggled to articulate our faith, first thrust out into the wide-open spaces of pluralism and finishing within the strict confines of systematic theology. It has been quite a ride.

Yet, these verses were virtually forgotten until after this summer’s youth mission trip. The guided whitewater rafting excursion we took on West Virginia’s New River bore little resemblance to Garrison Keillor’s leisurely pontoon boat ride on Lake Wobegon. That is, until the familiar story’s 24 Lutheran ministers aboard “gave their lives to Christ” and found themselves standing helplessly in water up to their chins while pondering the meaning of it all. Keillor’s clever phrase is a little misleading, though. You see, neither the pastors in that story nor I decided we would rather be in the water than on the boat. Maybe Peter wanted to get out and try to walk on the water like Jesus, but that was not my plan. In a similar way, 3 years ago I had no intention whatsoever of being in ministry.

So, how in the world did I end up in seminary? In the course of the candidacy process, we are asked to share that story multiple times. For myself, the image of a river has emerged as a metaphor. Its beckoning was unremitting. Worn down by something not unlike the sound of a dripping faucet, I sought relief, but not by diving in head first or taking a running leap. No, I behaved like anyone else afraid of the water. First dipping in a toe, then a foot, then wading in slowly up to my knees. I took one trial class, then one more, before eventually applying for full admission.

The girls who watched from the raft thought I appeared remarkably calm. But honestly, even while wearing a life vest, it was all I could do to keep my face above the surface of the churning bath. Just catching my breath after being tossed from my seat took priority over trying to swim to the shore. All I could do was float along until our rafting guide reached down and hauled me back in.

What kinds of waters threaten you? Isaiah does not offer advice on how to avoid getting caught in their flow. In fact, it would appear not only that they are inevitable but that God knows we will be tempted by fear. We can take comfort, though, in the promise of God’s presence, which is no small thing. Notice, too, that neither God’s claim of us nor God’s presence is dependent on our asking. They are stated as an absolute given. No room is given for us to screw that up. Therefore, we can trust in God’s promise that we “shall not” be overwhelmed by these things.

Gracious God, whether your children splash happily in the shallow eddies or find themselves immersed in a powerful and frightening current, may we find peace in trusting that you are with us always, regardless of how well we think we can (or can’t) swim. Amen.