Certain memories set like concrete in our minds.
Learning to ride a bike on a bike that had no brakes. Dabbing my fingers in red paint being used to paint playground equipment and chasing girls around during second grade recess while screaming “Bloody Fingers! Bloody Fingers!” Prying off the air return vent in order to crawl under the choir loft floor to play war on Wednesday nights after church. Those events set up memories early in my life, and I suspect I’ll never forget them.
A few weeks ago while taking the Lord’s Supper, I noticed again how early spiritual patterns are often the ones that sustain us later in life. Our church practice is to take the Supper by asking heads of households to come forward and take enough wafers and cups back to their seat for their family. Then as a church, we take the bread and cup together. It’s a simple, beautiful thing, really.
But as men and women, married and single, and young and old moved to the aisles and came to the table, I looked down and saw a man named Roger collecting all the cups and pieces of bread he needed for his family. Roger had three other people with him that Sunday: his wife, his mother-in-law, and a granddaughter from out of town. Do the math and you will figure that Roger had a little puzzle to solve. Should he gather the little plastic cups first and then the bread, or vice versa? With only a slightly clumsy moment, he figured it out and returned to his seat.
That was not an uncommon puzzle for anyone that day, but what captured my attention was that Roger now lives with the early onset of dementia. He is a faithful husband, father, and grandfather, but he is now in a season where his loving wife picks him up from a residential care facility every Sunday and brings him to church. He provided well for his family over the years and he saved enough money, little by little, to make his care possible. But he’s no longer the breadwinner that he used to be.
Roger’s capacity is limited, his memory is short, and his usefulness is waning. Yet every Sunday, he shows up to worship King Jesus with a smile on his face. Suited in slacks, a dress shirt, and a perfectly tied necktie that lands just above his belt buckle, Roger stands with a medium build hands clasped in front of him moving them up and down to the sound of the music as he sings every word of every song with his every breath.
After attending the first service, you will always find Roger standing in the back of the sanctuary during the music of the second service as well. His participation is never distracting, but never passive. He may have forgotten some things, lost a few skills and a few steps along the way, but he has not forgotten how to worship his great God.
As he served the bread and the cup to his family on this particular Sunday, he was again reminded, if even for just a moment, that God loves him so much that He sent His one and only Son to bear his sin and give him new life. Roger can’t volunteer in the preschool ministry and he won’t serve popcorn at this year’s fall festival, but every time he gathers up the bread and the cup, distributes them to his family, and sits down to take the Supper with the rest of us, he clearly, boldly, and victoriously proclaims the Lord’s death until he comes.
The apostle Paul wrote to his son in the faith, Timothy,
“Hold on to the pattern of sound teaching that you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.” – 2 Timothy 1:13
When Jesus shared the Supper and created a memory with his disciples, he wasn’t looking for likes on his Instagram feed. Like a metal beam set in concrete, he was giving them a handle to hold onto. Jesus would soon be betrayed and crucified in their place, and he not only wanted them to remember the sacrifice, but to grasp its significance. Jesus was leaving. Other people, priorities, and persecutions would soon threaten the devotion of their hearts. But the Lord’s Supper was a handle that would sustain them through it all.
Doubts would come, but they would remember. Dangers would come, but they would remember. Dissenters would abandon them, but they would still remember that indelible moment when Jesus broke the bread and served the cup. It was a simple act, a common meal, but it would soon become their sustaining grace.
Roger’s memory is fading, but he is still able to return to the old ways that shaped his heart when times were better than they are now. As we took the Lord’s Supper that day, Roger taught me that learning to worship Jesus early in life allows the Holy Spirit to wash over me, as predictably as the ocean tide washes against the shoreline, to slowly but surely form my heart and prepare me for harsher days.
[ctt template=”3″ link=”dGhfD” via=”yes” ]Learning to worship Jesus early in life allows the Holy Spirit to wash over us, as predictably as the ocean tide washes against the shoreline, to slowly but surely form our hearts and prepare us for harsher days.[/ctt]
Religious routines absent intimacy with God rot our souls, but the faithful practice of corporate worship fueled by the Spirit of God produces enduring joy. So even on the days we do not feel like it, we show up for worship. Even when we’ve lost our song, we sing through the tears. Even when our kids would rather do something else, we lead the way back into the community of faith. Even when the devil accuses us, we reject isolation and unite with other believers to declare with our voices what we doubt with our heart. Even when our minds wander, we open our Bible, listen to another sermon, and take note of God’s Word to us.
These corporate disciplines of grace are beams set in concrete. Singing, praying, standing to read Scripture, observing the Lord’s Supper, listening to sermons, giving tithes and offerings are all just ordinary acts of worship. It is these acts, however, that not only train our hearts to hold on when difficulties move in, but they actually hold us when our grip begins to fail. These mundane patterns of worship that we practice when life is good, when we feel strong and full of vigor actually shape our hearts to keep worshipping when we realize we aren’t as strong as we thought, when we discover we’re at the end of our rope, when our potential gives way to our reality, and when our best days on earth make room for better days in heaven.
So as long as God allows me to shepherd a local congregation, I’ll keep inviting people to gather each Sunday to practice ordinary corporate disciplines of worship. I’ll watch them with a thankful heart knowing that this labor is not in vain. Then I’ll pray for them knowing they will soon be asked to trust God in private like they worship him in public.
When Roger gathered up bread and cups for his family, he not only proclaimed the Good News of Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection, but he reminded all of us that God’s grace sustains us even when all we have is an old, familiar song to sing from the back of the room.