Once over dinner

On a not so long ago December day, Dixie and I, with a few others were having dinner in a Seattle restaurant prior to attending a Christmas concert at Benaroya Hall. The conversation turned toward ‘church.’ All present, with a single exception, participated in the same church. All were active in roles of volunteerism and leadership. And all were expressing deep feelings of dissatisfaction. I listened. We paid our bill and went to the concert.

 

Is it my place?

For days after, I kept returning to that conversation. It felt unfinished. Yet I hesitated. Is it my place to be a self-appointed ‘spiritual patriarch’ and attempt to re-engage the issue? After praying, I send an email to each person, asking if they want to reopen the conversation and talk further about ‘church.’

The response is an immediate, “Yes.” So the date is set. Let’s meet at 10 o’clock on Sunday morning. If you’d like to attend the early service before, please do so. But we will expect you at 10. A menu is divided up for a brunch to follow.

O Lord, hear my voice

[1]

Our home is ideal for this sort of thing. Intimate. Personal. Perfect for small groups. By 10 o’clock, everyone is seated. We can see each other. We can talk. I read some Scripture and say a prayer.

I explain my concern over our earlier conversation, and encourage each person to express their angst and frustration, reminding them it is safe here to express feelings. Share your heart. Tell us whatever. Don’t hold back. Say what you want to say.

It doesn’t take long. There are tears. There is honesty. It is the beginning of a necessary healing, like an infected wound that needs purged and cleansed.

After awhile, we arrive at the bottom line question. The morning’s self-appointed patriarch asks, “Do you want to leave the church and find somewhere else to worship?” Now, I have to say there is enough ‘pastor’ in me wanting never to ask this question of anyone. Especially if you think those you are asking have the ability, and perhaps the willingness, to say, “Yes.”

The consensus however is, “No, we don’t want to leave our church. We just want things to be different.”

So what might ‘different’ look like? Conversation continues in vulnerable fashion. We’re volunteers, not staff. We try to help others feel appreciated, but we’re not “feeling the love” ourselves. It seems like no one cares, at least not in the way we need for them to care. My needs aren’t being met.

 

The Presence

The conversation goes on. This is what we see. What we think. How we feel. At last we pray. And then the Bread and the Cup. There is something about The Presence that trumps everything else.

We come to the table with Jesus. And we know. He sees us. He hears us. He feels with us. He cares. He’s been with us this whole time. We’ve been acting like children. His children! There is a sense of relief, of cleansing. Our mood becomes lighter. There is laughter. We enjoy eating together.

It is well into the afternoon when I am asked, “Can we do this again?”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Yes.”

“Why? To what purpose?”

“We need this level of security, of vulnerability, of sharing our lives with people who truly care about us. If we are missing being appreciated and cared for, we can begin by doing this with one another.”

And that’s how an ordinary moment turned into a holy adventure and changed our lives forever.

Three single women. Two married couples.

With concerns about aging parents and adult children. About work. Retirement. Grandchildren. No living parents. No family within hundreds of miles. No family at all. How then shall we live? How might we best give to our church? How do we share Christ with lost people?

A Christmas conversation.

The feeling of unfinished business.

And so we continue. We participate in the same church, except for two. “The Gathering,” as our coming together had been dubbed, is church for one of us who has been on a long spiritual journey. Once each month she is at the table. Adopted by our Lord. And by us.

All this leads to a much later question.

Are we finished now?

Has the need that brought us together been met? After three years, the consensus seems to be, “We’re not where we will be, but we are better now than we were before.”

As I listen to their comments, I can see something else has happened along the way. We have become family. Teaching. Praying. The Bread and the Cup together with Jesus. Eating the “family meal.” Laughing. Crying. Sharing life.

One of “The Gathering” moved to another city, now sharing home-life with her father, and working with a group of attorneys. One has left us to be with her forever Father. We all miss her.

“The Gathering” is no more, but we still share life. And those close by are celebrating Christmas together in my home.

Preach Jesus

Maybe it’s time for you to don the mantle of ‘spiritual patriarch’ and initiate a Christmas conversation with those you love. Is there unfinished business? Does someone need you to ask good questions and listen well?

As St. Francis reportedly said, “Preach Jesus, and if necessary use words.” You never know where taking the chance to be God’s ‘elder voice’ may lead.

Opening presents has been fun at your house this year, as always.

Opening to ‘The Presence’ can be transformational.

Merry Christmas to you and those you love.

 

 

[1] Psalm 130:1