It seems that being in relationship with the Almighty should be different than being in relationship with a guy that spends 50 hours a week in shift work, runs out of time to cut his grass, and forgets to put the trash out on the right day about once a month.
It seems that if Jesus came to give His life for our relationship with Him, that relationship shouldn't be primarily dependant on my effort, and His response probably doesn't remain a crap shoot.
So this line of thinking has led to a week long journey through the liturgy. The idea of liturgy gets a bad rap as "dry" and "boring," and many are repulsed by the idea of it. However, upon closer investigation, I'm finding it to be a well-trodden pathway into regular connection with God. Ancient monks constructed prayer labyrinths that physically and graphically depicted a process by which we enter the presence of God, and then intentionally move back out of the presence of God into the world. The liturgy is just such a tool.
The last several blog entries describe the ancient path, but in summary:
The Invitation reminds us that we are invited by God, and that we're not alone in our journey. We recognize we are on this journey with those from every time and place, together being invited by God into relationship with Him.
The Proclamation declares the foundational beliefs that undergird our faith. We declare who God is, who we are, and like a rope that leads us back to our home, the creeds won't allow us to wander so far from home that we get lost in the storm.
The Invocation acknowledges the reality of grace given to us in Jesus. His face has already been turned toward us in Christ, and by inviting His gaze, we recognize that the eternal God is somehow interested in the mundane details of our lives.
The Confession is an agreement with God about who we are and who He is. We don't confess our sin in the hope that we might be forgiven. Rather, we declare our shortcomings with the joyful foundation of knowing that we are already forgiven in Christ.
Which leads to the centerpeice of Christian worship, the Eucharist. This ancient "feast" of bread and wine contains a depth that cannot be plummed, meanings that cannot be exhausted, and an intimacy that cannot by described in words. In the ancient labyrinth, it's the center. It's the place where we can sit in the presence of God Himself, through Jesus, and truly rest.
The bread is the body, broken for our sins. The cup is the blood, spilled over our lives to cover our sin and shame. The sacrifice is the reality that Jesus, being in very nature God, was separated from God. The Father turned His face; the relationship was broken. This unthinkable action means for all those who will follow, we will never be separated. The pain has been endured, the suffering absorbed, the penalty paid. In the Eucharist, Jesus has come toward us and established deep and abiding relationship. The work is finished. The Eucharist celebrates that finished work, beckoning us deeper into the story.
The love feast has always been the centerpeice of Christian worship. It's not dependent upon a gifted worship leader or talented preacher. It's not dependent upon proper contextualization. It's not dependent upon mood lighting, lasers, smoke, or soft music. It's simple and elemental: Jesus' body broken, Jesus' blood shed, His life sacrificed. Given for me. For us. For all who, throughout history in every time and place, have placed there hope in Christ. And for all who will.
It's here, at the Eucharist, we can rest.
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