The supper of our Lord

The supper of our Lord

On his last earthly night as a free man Jesus did a gospel-shaped makeover of the Jewish Passover (Matt 26:26-29; Mrk 14:22-25; Lke 22:14-20). The meal that once looked back to the first exodus and forward to the kingdom (Exod 12:1-13) now looks back to the greater and second exodus and forward to its fulfillment in the new creation (eg Matt 26:28-29).

As we eat and drink, we remember Jesus, look forward to the future in him and bind ourselves closer to he who is our host and to our fellow guests. Participation in the Lord’s supper is a spiritual high for those who are in the Lord and who have prepared themselves through word and Spirit. It is a Christ-given provision that holds the gospel out as a visible word. A faint parallel is found in the cutting of the cake and raising of a toast at a wedding or birthday dinner. Our eating and drinking bind us to the host and to one another as fellow honoured guests.

By the time that Paul wrote to the Corinthian church, celebration of the supper of the Lord was marred by sinfulness. For some it was an occasion of factionalism and selfish individualism that left some hungry and humiliated, all such that it was scarcely recognizable as the Lord’s supper (1 Cor 11:19-22). In fact, some seemed to eat and drink without recognising the body of the Lord such that their actions were deemed an “unworthy” act that drew judgment on themselves (1 Cor 11:27-30). There is a debate whether the “body of the Lord” mentioned in the text is the crucified body of Lord or his living churchy body. There may be an intentional ambiguity – we are to see both the crucified Jesus and to see his church in him.

So much for abuse of the supper of the Lord in first century Corinth.

How fares the Lord’s supper today?

In some circles, formal ritualism prevails. The supper may be elevated to a high importance in itself. Christ may be hidden behind ritual. The danger is that faith and focus rests not on the Lord of the supper but on the supper itself. Grace is in the supper, not in its Lord. This is one modern version of participating without discerning the body – here, we miss the body of the crucified Christ.

Another modern danger is of heightened individualism. Participation is an individual act of devotion in which the worshipper seeks communion with Lord in the Spirit and is oblivious to those around them. This is another, and opposite, version of not discerning the body – here, we miss the body of the church of Christ

Sometimes today the Lord’s supper is celebrated in such a low-key casual manner that it’s more like a birthday toast than an act of remembering and binding ourselves to Jesus and his church. Indeed, in some places, it seems to be celebrated as infrequently as a birthday. The remembering of Jesus may happen, but hardly in a way that promotes a solemn recommitment and binding ourselves to him and one another.

At other times the supper is conducted in a largely defensive way. The service leader is careful to guard against ritualistic words and explains how the bread and juice came from the supermarket and remain nothing but daily foodstuffs. Further explanations remind participants that grace does not come through participation but through faith in Christ. These points are true enough, but the message can be so exclusively defensive that we are left wondering why we bother participating and what we are doing in a positive sense.

The Lord’s supper seems always subject to distortion one way or another. This is not a reason to abandon it. Rather is time to return to Scripture and think theologically and liturgically. How we can celebrate the supper in a way that keeps it a gospel ordinance that recognises the body of the Lord and binds us to it?

A good churchman?

A good churchman

Twice recently I have heard someone described as a good churchman.

What does that mean?

One meaning of the phrase is that a good churchman is devoted to the institution of the church. This is the person whose bumper sticker reads: My church right or wrong. They are attentive to the ordinances of the church. They know its rules, keep them themselves and do their best to ensure that others do the same. They are measured and avoid extremes. They don’t rock the boat. They are loyal to the institutions and its leaders. They can be relied on. They know and treasure the traditions of the church. They want the church to survive and work hard to that end.

Some of those descriptors are real positives. What church doesn’t want someone who is loyal, works hard, works within boundaries and who is measured in their passion and views?

Others of the descriptors have problems. At its worst, this kind of churchman wants to cling to the past, opposes all change and is essentially the curator of a museum.

However, there is something missing, that reveals a deeper problem.

Read the description again. Christ is the great omission in the above definition of a churchman. The danger is that this churchman puts the church in the place that belongs to Christ and so makes an idol from a good gift of God.

So, let’s redraw the definition of a good churchman and put Christ at the centre.

A good churchman is someone who actively recognises that:

• Christ is the foundational capstone and cornerstone of the church from whom it derives and on whom it rests (Eph 2:20-22; 1 Pet 2:5-8).
• The church is the body and bride of Christ (2 Cor 11:2; Eph 4:11-16; 5:32; Rev 19:7).
• Christ is the head of the church (Col 1:18)
• Christ sets the mission of the church (Matt 28:19-20; Acts 1:8)

The texts can be multiplied but their cumulative force is clear.

A good churchman is someone who sees and relates to the church in Christ. He is committed to the church through, in and for Christ. He values the church not in itself but as the body and bride of Christ. His loyalty to the church is conditional on and conditioned by his loyalty to Christ.

To adapt a John Piper poem, a good churchman is someone who says of the church: Let me love you more by loving you less. This means that he stands slightly to one side of the church. He will critique it in the light of and for the sake of Christ. He is jealous for the rule of Christ over the church, for the mission of Christ through the church and for the glory of Christ over that of the church. He will advocate for change that makes the church more the body of Christ and more effective in his mission for the church. His greatest love is for the Lord of the church and not for the church in itself.

Now that’s the kind of churchman to pray for and desire to be – a churchman in and for Christ.

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Lessons from illness

Lessons from illness

Many of us experience life with a high capacity for doing things for ourselves. We delight in helping others and not being a burden on them and protecting our self-esteem. We are largely autonomous and independent.

Me too!

A recent injury and the following surgery saw a swift transition in which all of the above were upended.

                   

The surgery was unexpected and swift. I went for an MRI expecting advice to continue with the physio on which I had embarked. I left with instructions to go straight to an ED. That itself was a reminder of the frailty of life and the contingency of any plans that we make.

Even before surgery the loss of self-directedness and independence was visible as the hospital constrained my movements. I who walked into hospital was not allowed out of bed without a wheelchair and companion.

Post-surgery my dependence was immediate and total. I needed others to shower and toilet me and could not arise from my bed, sit or walk without help. My vulnerability was there for all to see. Strangers came, looked, listened, probed and poked and took decisions for me. I was dependent and directed by others. Even toilet movements became a public topic.

Physical pain aside, psychological pain kicked in. I resented and fought against the descent to dependence. I fought to re-establish some degree of control wherever possible. I sought to contribute to others instead of being only and always served.

And then it struck me. My experience was an enacted parable of modern humanity and the gospel. I kick against losing independence and serving others in the spirit of autonomous humanity – people without God and who are the centre of their own world. Even as a Christian, the spirit of the age demonises me. The gospel is offensive because it starts with my incapacity for any self-help or self-direction. It humiliates my ego.

The old hymn tells where the gospel starts

Nothing in my hands I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to Thee for grace:
Foul, I to the fountain fly,
Wash me, Saviour, or I die.

I am naked, helpless and empty handed. That does not sit well with C21 humanity.

But then look where the gospel goes:

Let the water and the blood,
From Thy riven side which flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Save me from its guilt and power

Autonomous humanity has an inbuilt barrier to accepting help from others. That’s sad for we humans who seem more made for interdependence than dependence. It’s tragic when it keeps us from accepting the help that brings eternal life.

Sometimes our ego needs to take a big hit to crack that autonomy. It might be illness or some other life event that reminds us of creaturely limitations and frailty. Whatever it takes, it is to be welcomed as being for our highest good.

Only then will we sing this prayer:

Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.