Sunday John and I preached together. And then I served communion. We were supposed to serve it together, but he was sick, and in addition to squirting Purell on his (and my) hands every other minute, I told him it would not be an example of God’s grace for him to infect a thousand people by doling out germy communion bread.
We love serving communion. And communion is only possible because we have Christmas and the cross first.
Serving communion is a remarkable, visual experience, made more powerful because we know the stories of so many of the people in our faith community who approach us, starving for grace, thirsty for assurance of forgiveness.
Sunday was no different. All generations, every manner of humanity, walked forward to the front of the sanctuary to take bread and dip it in the cup.
I looked deep into the eyes of husbands and wives we know are struggling to love each other, Continue reading
