community

Breaking Bread: The Power of Conversation and Community

/ Sharon / Leave a comment

Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them;but they were kept from recognizing him. He asked them, “What are you discussing together as you walk along?”  They stood still, their faces downcast.
Luke 24:13-17 (NIV)

It has been months since Easter Sunday, but I still find myself captivated by the disciples’ trip to Emmaus. I can imagine their state of mind. Perplexed. Expectations dashed. “We had hoped that [Jesus] was the one to redeem Israel,” said the disciples to the Stranger who had joined them on the journey.

Last weekend, I attended a women’s conference that revived me in a way that I had not experienced in a while.  It was as if the wind of the Spirit blew into my soul afresh, and I rejoice in a renewed sense of purpose and potential.  Yet a week later, I find myself overwhelmed as I discern what my next steps should be. After these mountaintop experiences, my challenge is always to maintain momentum when I get back to sea level. In the meantime, I grieve recent tragedies such as the shooting in Aurora, CO. I recognize that in the shadow of the resurrection, death remains. The death of loved ones. The death of dreams. The death of relationships.

“We had hoped that…”

I can relate.  Don’t we all have those thoughts, those if-onlys, haunting us from time to time? I had hoped that my father would live to see certain milestones in my life.  Parents of the victims in Aurora had hoped to see their children thrive.

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”   Luke 24:28-32 (NIV)

There was something about this Stranger who entered into conversation and community with the disciples.  He inquired. He listened. He brought clarity. He challenged. He blessed. He broke bread.  And all of a sudden, the disciples knew that the “rumor” was true.  Jesus was alive and sitting right there in front of them!

Lately, I’ve asked myself, “when was the last time my heart burned within me, in a good way, based on a conversation?”  By conversation, I do not mean hearing from the Lord through sermons or personal prayer times, though these are vital practices for me.  What I mean is talking with others. I realize that conversations can get a bit messy. After all, Jesus broke the bread; he didn’t slice it.  The good news is that the Presence of Christ can show up in the midst, messiness and all.  Plus, there’s a heartiness and substance to bread that is broken compared to the neatly sliced bread that I often buy at the supermarket.

I’m starting to ask myself a lot more questions to help me envision what “breaking bread” really means.  Please join me.

What if we were more intentional about reminding each other that Jesus is alive and that we can live out that truth between Sundays, conferences, retreats and revivals?

What if we spoke life into desolate places in each other and in the world around us? 

What if we agreed with God that death, while present, does not have the final say? 

What if we not only grieved for families of victims in Aurora, but also confronted the culture of violence in the United States?  

What if we invited the “voiceless” into the conversation? 

How is God calling us to represent the resurrection of Christ in the world?

Your Call:  Read Luke 24:1-35; what stands out to you about the journey to Emmaus?  What is the role of conversation and community in your life? 

The Gifts, The Gifted, and The Giver

/ Sharon / 4 Comments

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So Jacob’s gifts went on ahead of him, but he himself spent the night in the camp.
Genesis 32:21 (NIV)

When I was studying and teaching on the life of Jacob and his family last fall, I looked forward to the discussion around Jacob’s wrestling match (Genesis 32:24-32), one of my favorite narratives in the Old Testament.  The intensity, vulnerability and mystery of that encounter have always intrigued me, especially since Jacob emerged from it with a greater sense of identity.   Of course, broken relationships make up the context of this scene. Jacob must eventually face his brother Esau, who he had betrayed years earlier.  In response, Jacob decides to send his possessions in an attempt to appease him.  I’ve looked at this text on a number of occasions, but this time, I was particularly struck by the notion that “Jacob’s gifts went on ahead on him, but he himself spent the night in the camp”  It’s as if the gifts served as some kind of shield for Jacob, a means of protection from the wrath to come.  But God then turns Jacob’s scheme on its head. As a result of sending his gifts, servants and family members ahead, Jacob is left alone to face not his brother, but himself.  And so, the wrestler appears and the wrestling begins.  The next day, Esau greets Jacob not with a chokehold, but a hug.  Perhaps he’s had his own wrestling match. In the end, grace prevails.

As fascinated as I was with this study when I shared it with my class, I had this sinking feeling that I would have to enter into this text like I never had before.  As much I appreciate Jacob’s journey, I wasn’t trying to hang out with him like that.  It’s one thing to be a spectator in a wrestling match, it’s quite another to find yourself thrust into the ring.  But in an age where celebrity status, constant busyness, and social isolation are such temptations for ministry leaders, I have to yield to the necessary wrestling if I am to live and serve with integrity and wholeness.  So in this phase of my life, I’m confronting my tendency to define my value by what I do, what people think of what I do, and how “productive” I am.   This is not to say that I don’t value good stewardship of my gifts, but my identity needs to be rooted in the Giver so that my “gifts” are actually gifts, God-breathed and grace-filled.   What’s more, I don’t want my gifts to be a shield that blocks me from experiencing life-giving community.  In her book Stories from Inner Space: Confessions of a Preacher Woman and Other Tales, Rev. Dr. Claudette Copeland wisely observes that we are often “more comfortable with our assignments than our relationships.”

So what does this mean for me going forward?  Both of the hats I wear (minister and career advisor) involve speaking and “wordsmithing.”  So quite often, I’m thinking and praying about what to say and how to say it.  But what would it look like to have Sabbath spaces, in the presence of God and community, where I can just be?   With nothing particularly profound, clever, or witty to say.  Wrestling and resting. Giving and receiving.  Letting grace prevail.

Your Call: Is there a situation in your life that has resembled Jacob’s wrestling match?  As you make the most of your God-given gifts, how do you maintain a commitment to integrity and character?  Do you have a community in which you are embraced for who you are and not merely defined by your giftedness?