How He feeds us

For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me."  For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.  (1 Corinthians 11:23-26)

I've spent many years in churches where the preferred description for the bread and wine is 'emblem'. A peculiar, rather timid word. Not likely to impart faith to us that anything is really happening spiritually when we eat and drink them.

Last night, amongst a small group of worshippers welcoming the Spirit among us, I read the passage above - which felt an odd thing to be moved to do, for we weren't going to take communion - and spoke out what God was showing me.

Each of us present had received the bread and wine many times; and every time, Jesus was infusing His body, His blood, His very life, into ours. If we forget all the theological and historical arguments, isn't this so obvious? How a child can see it? Believer, be of very good cheer: this has been done to you by God, Who is working the miracle through and through you, time and time again.

Then, see how the body He gives to us is broken, and the blood He shares is spilt out. Those are His terms for us to be able to receive Him: His death, His cross.

And there is more: this spiritual work done in me is a proclamation to others. Like every action Jesus took, it is a sign which proclaims that the Kingdom of God is here with power - not just a matter of words. Jesus said His disciples would live on the same terms as He did: by the cross.

So our own lives now make the same proclamation as His: they are given to others broken and spilt. We are little Christs now, becoming identical to Him, and ever more so each time He gives us His body and blood.

I'm an Archbishop too

It has been quite a tumultuous time for elections: Obama's epic struggle and perhaps against-the-odds victory; China's old-fashioned transfer of power, or at least of figurehead; and now the cumbersome, decent, ever-ridiculed Anglican Church has proved herself nimble on her feet and come up with a refreshing surprise: Justin Welby.

What sparks in me a hope and delight is Welby's own delight, humour and optimism in accepting the position. No hint of "poisoned chalice" talk here. And I personally identify with the way he demonstrates an authentic mix of views on different matters, defying our desires to categorise others.  I could trust a man who appreciates his Evangelical inheritance and has a Catholic spiritual director.

For that is what seems to happen as we mature: we become more our true selves, and find ourselves holding convictions in balance which place us outside any one human camp. And gradually, the Kingdom of God takes shape in us and shapes us.

And so to the capricious title of this post (I'm going to blog more light-heartedly in future): it struck me this morning that my role in my immediate family is beginning to resemble that of the A of C. 

Once upon a time we were a family of six and our children naturally fell in with what Mum and Dad believed and where they worshipped.  Simple days, so long ago ...  They grew up, left home, some of them got married and started their own families - and our little closely knit family has expanded to fifteen and has become very diverse.  By the grace of God, every one of us has found a place near God's throne and believes in our Saviour, Jesus the Christ: but He was absolutely right in telling us that there were many rooms in the Father's house!  One family is part of a Baptist fellowship on a deprived estate in Bradford; another is now Roman Catholic, drawn to the most traditional wing of that Church, and in a fellowship in Ipswich; another son is recently married and planting new Christian communities in Helsinki; and our daughter belongs to a large Anglican church in Oxford.  Mum and Dad are between fellowships right now, but looking for one with enough pentecostal freedom and passionate worship - that's where we thrive.

I absolutely love this diversity, and I let all our grown-up children and daughters-in-law enrich my devotion to God by sharing their lives in Him with us.  They will sometimes argue among themselves and reject things another holds dear, but I will not exclude anything or any of them.  Of course, it doesn't rationally add up.  We have become a microcosm of the Church Universal.  But I see the good fruit which validates all this diversity; I appreciate how different we are from each other, and therefore how different a journey God will have planned for each of us, until we all become like Christ.