Tag: communion

Posted in faith

A deeper trust in God

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Bobbi Wu on Unsplash

A few weeks ago at a men’s bible study, the guys around my table were sharing prayer requests. One of the guys at my table, I’ll call him Tom, said, “I just want to be in deeper communion with Christ.” He had been paying attention to Sunday morning preaching, in which the pastor had encouraged everyone, no matter where we were in our walk with Christ, to take a step deeper. Tom has been a believer for a long time, teaches our men’s group, and has a daily devotional discipline.

So I asked, “What do you mean by that?” (BTW, that’s always a good first response. Get them to tell more of the story.)

Tom replied, “I want a deeper connection. I want a conscious connection with the Lord all day long. I read and pray in the morning, and then I get to work, not really thinking much about him. I want to do better.”

That’s a noble goal. But is it possible? Is it possible to consciously have God on the front burner of your heart, mind and soul twenty-four seven? Isn’t what monks attempted to do? Didn’t they removed themselves from all worldly distractions so that they could pray throughout their waking hours?

Well, I’ll tell you right now, I can’t do it. And neither can you. And that’s okay. Really it is. Let me explain why.

Let’s use the model of sheep and a shepherd. The sheep know the voice of the shepherd and follow him. They follow him to pasture, to water, and back to the sheep pen before evening. In the meantime, they eat. They bleat. They wander around the pasture. They make lambs. And through it all, I’ll bet they don’t think much about the shepherd.

But the shepherd thinks about them. The shepherd leads them, watches them, and protects them. He’s the shepherd. That’s his job. And if he’s doing his job, then the sheep can be…sheep.

Get it? If God is on duty twenty-four seven, if God never slumbers nor sleeps, if the Lord is our shepherd, then we can be his sheep. We can trust him so deeply that we can eat, drink, and enjoy our work without a care in the world. (Ecclesiastes 5:18).

You know what? That’s deep.

Posted in death, Ministry, visiting

Another last visit

Posted on by William Douthwaite

justin-schuler-255981-unsplash
Photo by Justin Schüler on Unsplash

I got the phone call last Tuesday just before I headed out the door to visit some church members. But it wasn’t the person whose name showed up on the screen. It was her daughter. Mom wasn’t eating, couldn’t get out of bed, and was receiving twenty-four-hour hospice care. I knew I had to get out there later in the afternoon before they started a second form of medication to get ahead of the pain. It would probably be my last chance to talk with her.

When I arrived I thought, “This must be the place to be.” The driveway and cul-de-sac were full of cars. Inside, I was met by the hospice chaplain, the daughter, and two other hospice workers were in the kitchen. The only thing that surprised me was the quiet. The little Yorkie didn’t come barking to greet me at the door. Yes, this was a different visit.

Just six days before, I had been to this very same house. When I knocked and walked in, the dog came racing to find out who it was and got dibs for my attention. Inside, P. was sitting on the pale green living room sofa, waiting for my arrival. We talked and laughed and caught up on all that had happened since my last visit about a month ago. She was tired from a busy day before, but glad to have some company.

As the usual afternoon storms rolled in, the Yorkie found a secure spot on my lap, nervously shivering after each clap of thunder. She wasn’t going anywhere.

She wasn’t going anywhere during this latter visit, either. Lying quietly at P.’s feet, she was subdued though glad to see me. I can tell. And I know exactly where to scratch.

After a quick conversation with a daughter and the hospice chaplain, I went to the bedroom, where P. was now camped out, on oxygen, wondering when the pain medication would do more than make her feel sleepy. At the side of the bed was a picture of her late husband, whose hospice bed we had sat beside just eleven months ago. It was his retirement picture, signed by all of his colleagues. In a way it was his chance to repay the favor and sit by her bed.

P. had a smile for me and chuckled, “Well, here we go. Not a pretty picture, huh?”

“Looks like you had a rough weekend,” I said.

She said, “Yeah, but what are you going to do?”

We talked a little about how she felt, between sips of ginger ale. Since she was starting to doze off, I didn’t hesitate to ask, “Would you like communion?” As always, she said, “Yes.” As I got the bread and wine ready, I suspected it would be the last time I would bring the sacrament to her. As I spoke the words of our Lord, she closed her eyes to listen. I touched her hand, she opened her eyes, and ate and drank her Savior’s gift of grace and life. I assured her of God’s forgiveness and we prayed.

It is easy to pray in situations like that. We thank God for the care he provides, we commend ourselves into his hands, and speak the prayer our Lord taught us. A quick benediction, and I knew it was time to go.

I got the call Thursday night that she had died after a few days of being unresponsive. I was thankful for the opportunity to visit her that one last time.

Two years ago, I did a memorial service for P.’s mom. Last year for her husband. And now it will be her turn. I am impressed and moved by how she graciously handled both life and death, kind of like Paul describes in 2 Corinthians 4: “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Cor. 4:8-9). The worst this world dishes out is nothing compared to the grace God pours into our lives. I am thankful for people like P. who lived out this truth.

The only thing P. worried about was her two grandsons. How she loved them and how they loved her! I wonder what they’ll remember the most about their grandparents. Knowing them and the family, it will be something that brings joy not sadness, and that’s just the way it should be.

The Yorkie didn’t see me out as she usually did. She had work to do. And I understood,.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Grace, Ministry

An awkward interruption

Posted on by William Douthwaite

One of the great things about being a pastor is that you never lack for new experiences. I’ll close out the first month of January with one I had today that was partly humorous, partly embarrassing, and a little sad.

It began as a traditional visit to a member in a local nursing home who was recovering from some surgery and receiving an assortment of therapies. After some introductory conversation about this and that, it was time for the sacrament. Bread and wine were put in place, scripture read, and it was time for the words of institution.

As I am almost exactly halfway through the words, a medical assistant steps into the room and interrupts with a rather personal question for the patient. We didn’t quite hear it the first time, so she repeated it using very descriptive words, got her answer, and disappeared.

While all this is happening, I’m thinking, “Is this happening? Doesn’t she what we’re doing? Do I need start over? How embarrassing is this?” I simply picked up where I left off and Christ’s words transformed a not-so-holy situation into holy ground just like they always do. Afterwards I was reminded that Christ didn’t mind being in a world or among people who didn’t recognize him, respect him, or understand what he was all about. And he still doesn’t mind. His grace still works in humorous, embarrassing, sad, painful, and sinful situations. That’s probably why some call it “amazing.”