“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.” —I Corinthians 15:10 (NRSV)
You won’t meet anyone more sensitive than I am to the idea that the celebration of the Lord’s Supper is a vitally important part of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. I was blessed to be a friend of the late Myron J. Taylor, who convinced me that sacrament was a better word than ordinance when describing what happens around this sacred table. He often said something like, “Sacrament is when God invades a very natural space in a very unnatural way.” In that context, the bread and wine are more than symbols, but not literally the body and blood of Jesus. That small piece of bread and a sip of the fruit of the vine, in faith, take on a significance they could not have otherwise.
In speaking of both baptism and the Lord’s Supper, Taylor says, “No longer are these mere ritual acts — which can be dispensed with at will. God has chosen the material media of water, bread and wine to represent (present again) the Gospel of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ.” (Where God Meets Us, page 112) This is not some sort of “magic” that happens at baptism or the Lord’s Supper, certainly not “water regenerationist theology,” but simply a recognition that as He did in the Incarnation of His Son — “the Word be came flesh” — God continues to invade our presence in remarkable ways.
So I wonder, how we might best — as followers of Jesus — respond to what many have decried as “the outrage of blasphemy” at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Paris on Friday?
As I begin my 49th year of serving at Point University, I think I am the only person who took on the role of leading student life on two separate occasions. (That may speak to the issue of mental stability!) The first was in the late ’70s/early ’80s, before I became the preacher at First Christian Church. The second time was from 2006 until 2012, when we moved to West Point. I still serve as chair of the faculty judiciary committee, which sometimes can be challenging. But one of the things I learned — the grace of God is all I can credit it to — very early in my first stint in student life was that the “backstory” is important. My goal, both then and now, is to ask, “Can we deal with this redemptively rather than punitively?” That’s why, in my second go-round, we had A Covenant for a Christian Community, not a rule book called The Student Handbook. When we learn the “backstory” of an issue, it is much more likely we will be redemptive than punitive.
Here’s my backstory when it comes to faith. I grew up in a family with two parents who were both deeply committed followers of Jesus. I don’t think I’ve ever known a person more committed to Bible reading and study and application to life than my dad. My mother, an equally avid reader of Scripture, may be the most inquisitive person I’ve ever known when it comes asking, “I wonder what God meant when He said that?” Or perhaps, “I wonder why God said that?” My grandparents on both sides of the family were also deeply committed followers of Jesus. Two of my dad’s brothers, Campbell and Billy, along with my dad, were selected to be elders in their churches at very young ages.
So the most natural thing in the world for me to do was to grow up as a follower of Jesus. It would have been odd for anything else to have happened.
Borrowing from Paul’s language quoted above: “But by the grace of God I am what I am.”
Let’s change the context for a moment. What if my family was from a place like Iraq or Iran, or Indonesia, or some other predominantly Muslim country? While we only see the radical expression of Islam on the evening news, the truth of the matter is that there are thousands upon thousands of Muslims who likely live out the best of their faith in Allah, as my parents did in their faith in the God of Scripture and His Son Jesus.
I’m not remotely suggesting that the Muslim faith is equivalent to faith in Christ. I am simply suggesting that for me to become a faithful follower of Jesus was much easier because of where and in what circumstances I grew up than it would be for me had I been born in a Muslim culture. The more I think about this sort of reality, the more I think there simply is no room in my life for any hint of arrogance about the fact that I am a Christian. I hope my own two children think that their parents — and extended family — provided for them a natural path to faith in Jesus.
Paul again gets right to the point: “But by the grace of God I am what I am.”
The outrage about the portrayal of DaVinci’s Last Supper during the opening ceremonies on Friday has me thinking about this more than I normally do. (I realize that there is a dispute as to whether or not this was actually the Lord’s Supper; organizers insist it was a reference to Dutch artist Jan Harmensz van Biljert’s The Feast of the Gods. However, that the organizing committee has apologized for offending Christians may suggest otherwise.)
I don’t even like it when people casually put a bottle of water on the communion table while getting ready for Sunday morning worship. So I can guarantee you that nothing I would ever be involved in would do any sort of parody of the Lord’s Supper. In my head, that is simply inviting the proverbial bolt of lightning to strike! But that is due, to a great extent, on the Christ-like culture in which I was raised, along with 50 years or so of studying Scripture on this topic and thinking about it.
But remember, the backstory is important. I don’t know a single person on the organizing committee for the Paris opening ceremonies, nor any of the people who were a part of the grotesque parody. That doesn’t make it somehow acceptable to me; it just means before I go into apoplexy about it, maybe I should think about the fact that their backstory as compared to my backstory is a bit like comparing apples to oranges.
I think I’ve been asked a thousand times about what God will do to those people who have never heard about Jesus. My answer to that question has always been, “I don’t know; He hasn’t sought my advice. But I’m more worried about what He thinks of me because those people have never heard about Jesus!” I have some sense that idea should frame my approach to this moment, as well.
I’m not reluctant at all to say, “That offends me.” Not just about the Paris deal, but all sorts of things that happen in our culture — both locally and globally — that seem at best disrespectful and at worst blasphemous. But a better option for us may be to work more diligently — “excel still more,” to use Paul’s I Thessalonians 4 language — to make sure fewer and fewer people have a backstory that would make them think such behavior is a good thing.
By the way, if we are going to get really offended and boycott watching the Olympics, shouldn’t we have avoided them altogether? Because if my research is correct, the ancient Olympic Games were primarily part of a religious festival in honor of Zeus, the father of the Greek gods and goddesses. That’s especially worth thinking about if you plan to criticize churches and Christians who dare celebrate things like Halloween, Christmas, and Easter because of their possible connection to ancient pagan festivals. You could apply that principle to the celebration of your own birthday, if you followed the logic of this approach.
I’m not suggesting that’s a good option. I’m not suggesting that being offended by the opening ceremonies is somehow inappropriate. Just wondering if there isn’t a better approach than self-righteous protest!
For a number of years, I taught a course at ACC/Point titled “The Life and Literature of Paul.” I decided the first year I taught that class was going to figure out “what made Paul Paul.” I don’t know that I succeeded in that, but I did arrive at this conclusion as perhaps a part of the answer. Every morning, if Paul looked in a mirror, he saw a guy he believed deserved to go straight to hell. But, “by the grace of God,” he had been rescued from the darkness and transferred in to the kingdom of God’s beloved son. (Col. 1:13)
I try to think that about myself every morning when I drag my sleepy body into the bathroom to brush my teeth, look in the mirror, and get my day started. What a blessing that I have been a recipient of that grace! How tragic that so many in the world haven’t.
Would you join me in praying that the convicting work of the Holy Spirit (John 16:8-10) would help make those who haven’t heard people who will one day say, “But by the grace of God I am what I am”?
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
Wye Huxford 