My family and I picked them up. They walked down their front steps and I thought, "They are too dressed up." I mean, I'm all about Sunday best, I guess, but I was only in fifth or sixth grade--I knew nothing about women's suits for preteens and that's what my friend wore. Her brother wore something similar. They were matching. They're not twins, but for a second I thought they were.
Church was church. I barely remember what went on. I remember I decided to sit in the third row, and I remember my best friend's brother kept asking when we were going to eat because he's hungry. I shrugged.
Then we had communion. And my best friend's brother was like, "YES! FOOD!"
But it was only one small cup of grape juice, and one teeny tiny piece of matza bread. He downed both as though he'd never eaten and asked me, "Can I have more?"
I did my best not to laugh.
Then one of them dropped a book.
I don't remember being embarrassed, but my parents were. My parents, before church began, asked, "Are you sure you want to sit in the third row? So close to the front?"
"Duh, we always sit there."
I think about the way people act in church. Then about the way people act outside of church.
Sometimes in public places children will throw embarrassing fits- well, the children are fine, it's the parents who are embarrassed (well done, kid). And most onlookers will mumble, "Get your kid under control." or "What bad parents." or "That kid needs to be spanked." or "That kid is spoiled."
Such unnecessary commentary.
Sometimes in public places people trip over nothing. Onlookers will laugh and/or tease. Perhaps trip over nothing, too, cheeks burning red, eyes looking everywhere but passersby.
Then behavior in church...
I am church kid, but I'm not a church kid. Let me put it this way: I did not grow up knowing 'Jesus' as the right answer to everything. I was unfamiliar with how to act in public situations, and though adults perceived me to be a quiet kid my parents knew otherwise.
I laughed very loudly.
I spoke loudly.
I made faces loudly.
I was just loud.
I inspired many passersby and onlookers to comment on or about me. I inspire commentary. Some might say I deserve commentary. I mean, somebody's got'a tell me I'm doing something wrong. Yeah. Right.
Today is the first Sunday of the month- most churches have communion on the first Sunday of the month.
Another fun fact, I've been attending this church consistently for a couple months now--super new for me. (Note: this church is different from the one I mentioned above.) When I visit a new church I tend to be very skeptical. Not like, "Oh, is this church going to convince me to believe in God. Again?!" I am just skeptical by nature; analytical and jaded. I am really jaded. I am amazed at how jaded I am.
Today I partook of communion and reflected on the past communions in which I did not partake. I wondered why I didn't partake.
In one church I visited several times over an extended period, the church had its congregation come up to one of two tables where rested the cups of juice and plates of bread. I did not partake because I was a visitor, and didn't want to stand in line with people I assumed would look at me funny.
Augh.
Some communions in which I did not partake I hadn't spent enough time reflecting on my sins. Even though I was told ahead of time we'd have communion the following week, I didn't spend the following week reflecting on my sins. And I knew that to partake of communion with an impure heart would doubly damn me.
Right?
Well, however I thought way back when, I missed the point of communion.
Whatever communion means to you, it doesn't just mean the elements of the Last Supper. It's not just the bread and the wine. Nope. Now, I'm no linguist, but I don't think it's a coincidence that word 'communion' and 'community' have the same beginning 'com'- with; a sharing (dictionary.com).
Whatever communion is to you, it is not taken in solitude. It is taken with others. And as much as any community relies on individuals, individuals too preoccupied with their role in the community are likely to overlook actually acting out that role.
I am not saying that my not partaking in communion disrupted others, but I did prevent myself from, you know, communing.
I was so worried with what an onlooker or passerby would think instead of reflecting upon what the elements of bread and wine represent. Worried I didn't spend enough time in self-loathing...I mean reflection.
I partook communion today more thankful for Christ's death and resurrection than I was worried about people's perception of me even if I tripped over myself, don't appear to be able to raise kids, dropped a book on the floor of a silent auditorium full of people, or asked if more juice and crackers were coming round.
If a stranger's commentary shouldn't matter that much to me, how much less should the lies I tell myself matter? (So much less.)
Trust me, I am all about growth and criticism, but seriously, neither of those should ever encompass the God who made commentary and tripping over nothing possible. That's probably why I've never thought 'Jesus' was the right answer. It felt too broad, and no one ever cared to explain the details of that breadth. 'Jesus' is not the equivalent of 'abracadabra'.
