Monday, May 30, 2016

The Loft

Artwork via Graphicstock.com subscription

Luke 22 7-13 (ESV) 7Then came the day of Unleavened Bread, on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. 8So Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, “Go and prepare the Passover for us, that we may eat it.” 9They said to him, “Where will you have us prepare it?” 10He said to them, ‘Behold, when you have entered the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him into the house that he enters 11and tell the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says to you, Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ 12And he will show you a large upper room furnished; prepare it there.’ 13And they went and found it just as he had told them, and they prepared the Passover.

I confess that I’ve romanticized the ‘upper room’. It probably stems from my recreational reading, and that mostly from the Sci-fi and Fantasy genres. I’ve pictured the upper room as a banquet room above a tavern associated with an inn. Tolkien filled his with hobbits, dwarves, and wizards; Eddings filled his with a sorcerer and his cadre of adventurers.  I have pictured Jesus with his disciples tramping through the common room of an inn, a tavern, to the backstairs and up to a banquet hall there to celebrate the Passover meal, wash the disciples’ feet, and challenge Judas to do what he must.

Quiet upper rooms and the solitude they offer amidst the hubbub of life have always attracted me, it may have something to do with growing up in an upstairs bedroom where I could get away from things whenever I needed to. I am writing this in our office having closed the door and shut the blinds and I feel that I’ve separated myself from our three-dog pack and the awakening household. It feels right, as though I have been successful at making this a sanctuary for a brief time.

Though my analogy somewhat falls apart in the face of the scriptures and the commentary I read I still get the sense that Jesus and the disciples separated themselves from the city with all of its energy surrounding the Passover celebration as well as the Pharisee’s hunt for Jesus in their efforts to put an end to his revolution. Rather than pass through a raucous room full of weary travelers washing the dust of the road from their throats with tankards of ale, they walked through a man’s house to a room he kept to let out for such occasions as the Last Supper.

My interest in the upper room was piqued by taking the Lord’s Supper with a group called the Eucharist of the Beloved. I met 13 or 14 others in the loft at the Lucky Baldwins Pub in Pasadena. They were all strangers to me with the exception of Dave Cameron whom I’d met briefly and only once. The loft sits above the barroom with only a railing to separate us from the crowd, on this night some sports team celebrated the end of a season of competition. Flat screens adorn the walls of the pub and loft alike, thankfully the two in the loft were muted, a soccer game on one and a basketball game on the other, silent struggles for supremacy.

Dave and his wife Christy prepared a litany for the evening. As we ate a meal, just as I picture the disciples with Jesus for the Passover, we went through the litany filled with scripture and prayers given by various folks in the group that Dave called upon. The others of us gave corporate responses as directed.

As the decibel levels varied below us, Malia shared her story of stroke and miracle healing, of working through rehab some had told her was useless, and of the pastoral care she received from her husband, Dave and Christy, and others. She spoke of great strength that came to her through her weakness and a final victory over the cane with the prayers of Spirit-filled young men who prayed for her as she entered a venue for a revival.

I was uplifted by her story and the common bond we all felt as we continued through the Eucharist serving each other the cup and the bread of life. It was refreshing to be in a group from various church backgrounds, a sprinkling of Presbyterians, some from Christian Assembly, and others from places I didn’t have the opportunity to learn about – it mattered not, we were of one mind.

Dale Bruner spoke to us about the Beatitudes and I was struck by how some people can be speaker and scribe at one and the same time. As Dale spoke to us about God’s word and how it touches us he was also scribbling the Word on our hearts. God bless Dale as he retires from a teaching position at the First Presbyterian Church at Hollywood and continues on his walk with God in the writing of a commentary of the Gospel of John. I have a couple of nuggets from Dr. Dale’s talk and I hope to distill them to a meaningful post in the coming days.

We broke during our time together to go out into Old Town Pasadena in small groups to pray over the town and read from scripture with each other and to talk over our experience and what it meant to us to be in the world but not of it. The exercise stretched my comfort zone and I plan to do it again.

A couple of observations/recommendations based on my evening:

V  Find your upper room and visit it often, alone and with other believers
V  Seek out experiences apart from your home church, it freshens your outlook
V  Pray and recite scripture while you’re out and about, it keeps you connected to the Holy Spirit and salts the earth, even if you do it silently
V  Be poor in spirit, help others who are also poor find their inheritance

In His grip, jerry

Eucharist of the Beloved meets monthly. For more information on the group please follow this link:

http://bridgesus.org/bridge-leaders-form-communities-dave-camerons-eucharist-of-the-beloved-in-old-town-pasadena-part-3-of-4/

Monday, May 2, 2016

Blood On My Hands

/w permission from Graphicstock.com
Matthew 26:27 - 29 27Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you.28This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. 29I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”

I had finished my part in the service of Communion having carried the bread to believers who could not walk to the front for one reason or another, they were; infirm, working the sound board, in the Bawl Room with little ones, or playing their instruments as background while the ambulatory amongst the congregation came forward to be served. Andy offered me the bread and I broke a piece off hearing his words, “the body of Christ, broken for you.” Greg followed up with the cup and the words, “the blood of Christ, shed for you.”

When I took the bread and dipped it in the cup to complete the intinction some dripped on my hand. I nearly froze as the analogy washed over me like the waterfall of a high mountain stream. I was shocked and saddened and incredibly thankful. I had blood on my hands, the blood of Christ.

I am the reason he went to the cross. It’s my fault that the King of Kings stood before a corrupt court and suffered indignation, insults, and false accusations. He was beaten for me, stood in my place and took the whip. He trudged up the hill dragging the cross while his people rejected him, reviled him, and turned their backs on him. He did all of this on account of me, so that I could draw near to the Father without being destroyed, so that I might be able to be in communion with the great Jehovah. So that I might serve the King of Kings as He is meant to be served.

I didn’t dip the bread and take the communion to myself alone. The cup is filled by the pouring out “for many for the forgiveness of sins”. All who dipped that day with me and repented were forgiven, washed clean and were made able to stand in His presence. We all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23) and, thank God, we have the sacrifice made available to us always.

So come to the table to eat and drink. Busy? Infirm? Beckon the servers to bring the communion to you and partake because, 26For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (I Corinthians 11: 26).


In His grip, jerry