A thought about what happened in the kitchen last night.
Each week I have the joy of gathering with friends to share communion. Communion is the culmination of our time together. It is not quiet or somber. It is noisy and talkative. It is beautiful and I love every minute of our inefficient celebration of the Lord's Supper.
Before that time we gather in together in a mob of humanity in my living room.
We open the ancient collection of texts known as the Bible.
We read and question and discuss.
We think and doubt and believe.
We do all these things together, kids and adults.
We learn and lead and press into life.
The we of the gathering for communion each week leaves me in awe. Some weeks the we includes more people than other weeks. Yet, it doesn't matter how many or how few.
What matters is the rhythm of the time and being present and alive with one another.
Some weeks there are tears. Every week there is laughter.
Some weeks there is dessert. Some weeks there is quinoa. Every week there is enough.
When my house empties I realize that there is one thing true: I am changed.
These amazing people change me. They leave me filled and overwhelmed with joy.
The bread and juice may be the “elements” of communion, but it is the people that make communion live and breathe.
The stories, the prayers, the laughter, the tears, the people.
These are communion.