'GO -- YOU ARE SENT OUT" John 20:21

On the first day of the week, after the resurrection, Jesus met with his disciples, very likely in the upper room where the Last Supper took place, and reminded them of their commission: "As the Father has sent me, I also send you."

That commission was uppermost in my mind last week because I attended the Week of Missions at Winema, a beach-front conference center on the central coast of Oregon. Among the missionaries were Bernie and Kelly Bledsoe from Kansas who serve with the Christian Missionary Fellowship in the Ivory Coast, West Africa. He is a Doctor and she assists in the clinic they operate. He moved us deeply with his passion for working with those infected with HIV and Aids. Mike and Lida Sweeney, with Pioneer Bible Translators in Papua New Guenea, are truly pioneers in a sometimes hostile environment. He is now the professor of missions at Emmanuel School of Religion in Tennessee. We also heard reports of work among Russians and Mongols in Irkutsk, Russia, among Chinese in Hong Kong, and new church planting in New England.

As I thought about the missionary messages at the conference it occurred to me that the Lord's Supper is missionary in nature. Not that everyone who partakes is meant to go off to Kenya or some other place. Rather, in the generic sense, as we partake we receive the benefits of God's missionary action in Sending Christ, and we are reminded once again that we are God's "sent out" people.

One of the names that came to be used for the Lord's Supper when Greek replaced Latin reflects the missionary significance of the supper. Sometime late in the second or early in the third century Latin replaced Greek as the language use in the church. Tom Wright explains, "...the end of the meal would be signaled by the person presiding saying, 'Go -- you are sent out.' This ... is a powerful part of the whole event, as those who have fed upon the death and risen life of King Jesus are equipped to serve him in the world. The Latin for this phrase is, 'ite -- missa est.' From this there developed the word 'Mass', the meal that ends with this sending-out, this commissioning" (Tom Wright, The Meal Jesus Gave Us, 36).

While we do not call this event by a Latin name, we recognize its connection to the great commission of Jesus to "go into all the world and preach the gospel." Each time we partake we are involved in and commit ourselves once more to God's mission in some way.

However, I fear that we have lost this sense of being sent out -- commissioned -- perhaps by moving the Lord's Supper away from the end of the service and highlighting the sermon. It might be well for us at times to have the Lord's Supper last and recapture the sense of mission it contains.

On this first day of the week as we meet with him at his table, may we also hear him saying to us, "Go -- you are sent out" -- to be my people in this world.

(Used at Twin Oaks Christian Church, August 12, 2007).

CUP OF SORROW -- CUP OF BLESSING

Charles Rennie Mackintosh table, Holy Trinity Church, Bridge of Allan, Scotland.


The cup in scripture often symbolizes judgment, wrath, and suffering. When Jesus prayed in Gethsemane, "If it be possible, let this cup pass from me," he was visualizing the suffering and death that would come as he took upon himself the guilt and consequences of our sin. He knew Isaiah's prophecy that spoke of the suffering servant as "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Isa 53:3). For him at this moment, the cup was a cup of sorrow.



On the other hand, the cup Jesus drank from is spoken of by Paul in different terms as he wrote in 1 Corinthians 10:16, "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a sharing of the blood of Christ?" The cup of sorrow has become the cup of blessing.



Henri J. Nouwen, a Catholic Priest assigned to a community home for mentally and physically handicapped people in Canada, spoke of what he called a lively memory connected with the cup of sorrow becoming the cup of blessing. One of the handicapped members, Trevor, had to spend a few months in a mental hospital near Toronto for psychological evaluation. Nouwen decided to go see Trevor and called the chaplain to ask if he could visit his friend. The chaplain welcomed him and asked if he would mind meeting with some ministers and priests in the area and some members of the hospital staff for lunch. Nouwen agreed without thinking much about the implications of the request.



When he arrived for the luncheon a large group was waiting for him -- but no Trevor. "I came here to visit Trevor," he said. "Can you tell me where I can find him?" The chaplain explained that he could see him after lunch. Nouwen was stunned and asked, "But didn't you invite him for lunch?" "No," the chaplain explained, "staff and patients cannot have lunch together. Moreover, we have reserved the Golden Room for this occasion, and no patient has ever been allowed in that room. It is for staff only." "Well," said Nouwen, "I will only have lunch with you all when Trevor can be there too. We are very close and I came here to see him, and I am sure he would love to join us for lunch."



They found Trevor and brought him in, but the atmosphere was quite subdued and solemn. Before the meal Nouwen helped Trevor get a coke from the drinks table where others were also helping themselves. As the meal was about to begin, Trevor suddenly stood up and with a loud voice and a big smile, lifted his glass of Coke and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, a toast!" Everyone dropped their conversation and turned to Trevor with puzzled and anxious faces, wondering, 'what is this patient going to do? Better be careful.'



But Trevor knew what he was doing. He looked at everyone and said, "Lift your glasses." Everyone obeyed. And then, as if it were the most obvious thing to do, he started to sing: "When you're happy and you know it, lift your glass. When you're happy and you know it, lift your glass ... " As he sang, people's faces relaxed and started to smile. Soon a few joined Trevor in his song, and not long after everyone was standing, singing loudly under Trevor's direction.


Trevor's toast, Nouwen said, radically changed the mood in the Golden Room. He had brought these strangers together and made them feel at home. With his unique blessing, Trevor had set the tone for a joyful and fruitful meeting. The cup of sorrow had become the cup of blessing. (Henri J.M. Nouwen, Can You Drink The Cup?, 63f).

The communion cup represents both the sorrow and suffering that Jesus experienced and the blessing that we experience through his sacrifice. As we take it maybe we should take a page from Trevor's example and say, "When you're blessed and you know it, lift your cup." "This cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ?"

The Pursuit of Happiness Hebrews 12:2

Thinking about the Lord's Supper and the Fourth of July brings to my mind two puzzling statements, one in the Declaration of Independence and one in Hebrews 12:2. The puzzling phrase in the Declaration of Independence is found in the philosophical heart of that document: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

The phrase that puzzled me is: "the pursuit of happiness." It could easily be understood as self-centered, focused on personal pleasure, even hedonistic. Surely that isn't what Jefferson meant. I came to understand it when I learned the educational and philosophical context in which it was written.

The Declaration of Independence was written and signed by men who had been highly influenced by the Scottish enlightenment. In fact, fully 1/3 of the signers were of Scottish or Ulster Scott extraction. They were familiar with and had been influenced by the teachings of Francis Hutcheson of Glasgow who was known as the founding father of the Scottish enlightenment.

He believed that every one's ultimate goal in life is happiness, but for him this meant not the gratification of physical desires but making others happy. "That action is best," he said, "which procures the greatest happiness," and the highest form of happiness is making others happy.

A recent scientific experiment at the University of Oregon, reported in Eugene's Register Guard newspaper, supports this idea. A number of people were given money and the opportunity to give it away or to keep it. Their brains were monitored and it was discovered that voluntarily giving to help others produced a response in the part of the brain that registers pleasure.

Haven't you found it to be true that when you do something that makes someone else happy it produces happiness in you also? Like seeing your child open a gift, or seeing a young person blossom as a result of your teaching. Doesn't it make you happy to see slides by a missionary of someone being baptized in Kenya, or children singing enthusiastically in a Ukrainian church camp, knowing that your gifts help make this possible? On the other hand, the more self centered, the more we try to make ourselves happy by hoarding or spending on ourselves, the more miserable we are.

Jimmy Durante's gravelly voice in Sleepless in Seattle said it in song: "Make someone happy, make just one someone happy, and you will be happy too."

This helps us understand the puzzling statement about Jesus in Hebrews 12:2 which says, "... for the joy set before him he endured the cross ..." It seems strange to put joy and enduring the cross together in the same sentence, but its true that when Jesus went to the cross he was in "the pursuit of happiness" -- yours and mine! The happiness of forgiven sin, of cleansing and renewal. The happiness of reconciliation and hope. All of this he secured for us on the cross. Thus, it was "for the joy set before him that he endured the cross." We experience again that joy every time we join him at the communion table.

Getting Rid of the Bad Stuff -- 1 John 1:9

Occasionally, I like to read Shell Silverstein's, A Light in the Attic. I enjoy his wit and wisdom, and his amusing rhymes often express important thoughts. For instance, this one that could illustrate on of Jesus' teachings: "Fancy Dive."

The fanciest dive that ever was dove

was done by Melissa of Coconut Grove.

She bounced on the board and flew into the air.

With a twist of her head and a twirl of her hair.

She did thirty-four jackknives, backflipped and spun,

quadruple gainered, and reach for the sun,

and then somersaulted nine times and a quarter --

and looked down and saw that the pool had no water.

Apparently, she had not learned that it is best to look before you leap. Jesus, in effect, was saying to those who would be his disciples to look before they leap when he said in Luke 14:28, "For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has enough to finish it." Jesus had counted the cost of what he was doing and knew that it would lead to the cross. He wanted disciples who also understood this.

Silverstein also deals with the question of how to get rid of sin in our lives in this short poem called "Hinges."

If we had hinges on our heads

there wouldn't be no sin,

'cause we could take the bad stuff out

and leave the good stuff in.

We all need to take the bad stuff out and leave the good stuff in. since we don't have hinges, how can we do this? John's words in 1 John 1:9 can help: "If we confess our sins he is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." He goes on to say, in chapter 2, "If anyone sins, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. He Himself is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the whole world."

In these verses, forgiveness and cleansing from sin is promised through the combined action of our confession and the atoning sacrifice of Christ. These come together at the communion table. What better place is there than this for us to confess our sins to Him and to receive the promised forgiveness through his shed blood? As he said in the upper room, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood which is poured out for the forgiveness of sins." Therefore, in the words of Hebrews 4:16, Let us come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

"COMMUNION" AND "COMMUNITY" John 15:13

For ten years straight I helped lead High School age trail camps in the Eagle Cap Wilderness area of the Wallowa Mountains in Northeastern Oregon for the Christian Churches. After several years, during an evaluation session with other leaders, we came to the conclusion that our most successful camps were those that were held when the weather was the poorest. The difficulties that snow and rain presented (even in late August) led the campers to depend on each other more and work together better, resulting in a stronger sense of community.

In a much greater way, the challenges, danger and difficulties that soldiers face in military conflicts have led them to develop a closeness they would not have known otherwise. Tomorrow we remember one of those occasions. Sixty three years ago, on June 6, 1944, a mighty armada crossed a narrow strip of sea from England to Normandy and cracked the Nazi grip on Western Europe. The men who landed at Normandy and survived developed a remarkable bond.

One of the most haunting stories to come out of the 2nd World War of how community was brought about through sacrifice was told by Ernest Gordon, a British army officer who was captured by the Japanese and assigned to building the Burma-Siam railway. He tells in his book, To End All Wars, of joining a detail of prisoners to build a track bed through low-lying swamp land. If a prisoner appeared to lag, a guard would beat him to death or decapitate him. For most of the war, the prison camp had served as a laboratory of survival of the fittest, with every man for himself. Men lived like animals, and for a long time hate was the main motivation to stay alive.

But something happened to bring about a change. A guard discovered that a shovel was missing. When no one confessed to the theft, he screamed, "All die! All die!" and raised his rifle to fire at the first man in line. At that instant an enlisted man stepped forward and said, "I did it!" Enraged, the guard raised his rifle high in the air and brought the butt down upon his head in a crushing blow, killing him.

That evening when tools were inventoried again, the work crew discovered a mistake had been made: no shovel was missing. One of the prisoners remembered the verse, "Greater love has no man than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends." Attitudes in the camp began to shift. With no prompting, prisoners began looking out for each other rather than themselves. It was the beginning of community, a band of brothers (Philip Yancey, Christianity Today, September 2003).

"Communion" and "community" have the same root meaning. They mean fellowship, oneness and imply a group of people who work, laugh and cry together -- and sometimes, it is crying together that creates the strongest bonds. People who look out for each other, people who, as Paul says, "bear one another's burdens" become a band of brothers and sisters in Christ. Of course, it was the sacrifice of Christ on our behalf that brought our community of faith into being. Sin said, like that guard, "ALL DIE!" but Jesus said, "NO, I WILL DIE FOR ALL."

His sacrifice has brought us together, at this table, into this fellowship we call church, and we stay together as we take up our cross and follow him.

Remembering Fallen Heroes

A Memorial meditation, used at Winema Christian Camp Heritage Conference, May 27, 2007.

On this memorial weekend we remember fallen heroes. The news keeps us painfully aware that war always produces fallen heroes, and we all agree that fallen heroes deserve to be remembered. If I were to ask you to name some fallen heroes you especially remember today your answers would probably range from friends or loved ones in the Second World War to the current conflict in Iraq or Afghanistan.

Our formal remembering began when General Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the republic, officially proclaimed May 30, 1868 to be a day of Memorial for soldiers who had fallen in the Civil War. Flowers were placed on the graves of both Union and confederate soldiers in Arlington Cemetery. However, the Southern States did not recognize this day and observed other days for honoring their dead until after WW I when Memorial Day became the day to honor those who died fighting in any way, not just the Civil War.

In 1915 Moina Michael, inspired by the poem, "In Flanders Fields," contributed her own short poem that led to wearing poppies in honor of those who died:

We cherish too the Poppy red

That grows on fields where valor led.

It seems to signal to the skies

that blood of heroes never dies.

At this particular moment, at this table, we focus on a fallen hero whose life was given in the greatest battle ever fought, and who's blood, as the poem says, "never dies." Every human war ever fought is simply a microcosm of the deeper, greater spiritual war that goes on behind the scenes. As Paul says in Ephesians 6:12, "Our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the ... spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places." We are still engaged in this struggle and we come today to remember and to celebrate the fallen hero who won the decisive battle.

Its been said that every war has a decisive battle. In the Second World War the decisive battle came with D Day and the successful invasion of France. While many battles were yet to be fought, the war was essentially won at that time. There were many fallen heroes on the beach whose sacrifice ultimately led to victory.

Today we remember another fallen hero -- but with a difference. He fell, but rose again, enabling Paul to say in Romans 5:10, "If while we were enemies we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, much more, having been reconciled, we shall be saved by his life." Reconciled by his death ... saved by his life. Death and all of this world's sin and evil met its match on Calvary when Jesus Christ became our fallen and risen hero. We celebrate victory, won for us by our fallen and risen hero.

Therefore, on the first day of the week, on each resurrection Sunday, when we break the bread and drink the cup, I like to think it is accompanied by those described in Revelation 5, "... myriads of myriads, and thousands of thousands, saying with a loud voice: 'Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.'" As you take the Lord's Supper this morning, listen for the Hallelujah chorus!

Telling The Truth Matthew 15:21-28; Mark 7:24-30

As we approach Mother's Day lets consider a bright and brave woman whose concern for her daughter led to a memorable verbal joust with Jesus. When scholars of the law crossed words with Jesus they went away confounded but when this woman challenged him she went away victorious.

Prior to this event Jesus had been engaged in a strenuous and demanding ministry. Also, Jesus must have known that King Herod, who had beheaded John the Baptist, was disturbed at his popularity. Kings like Herod were notoriously paranoid about large crowds following popular leaders and had ways of controlling such situations. Perhaps for a little R&R, and also to escape Herod's spies for a time, Jesus took his band of followers out of Herod's territory into Gentile country to the region of Tyre. There, Mark says, he entered a house and wanted no one to know of it, but he could not escape notice.

Soon, a woman, a Gentile of the Syrophoenecian race, came to see him and dared to tell him the truth.* Jesus focused his ministry on the House of Israel and it appeared to her that he had overlooked an important truth. First, she made her need known to his group by crying out: "Have mercy upon me, Lord, son of David; my daughter is cruelly demon possessed." Jesus refused to answer her. She continued to pester his disciples who went to Jesus and urged him to send her away. It seemed that he would do so because he commented that he had been sent only to the lost sheep of Israel. Just then she managed to get close to him, knelt before him, and pleaded, "Lord, help me." He replied with what was probably a well known proverb. Focusing on the Jews, he seems to reject her request by saying, "Bread is for the children, not the dogs." She didn't hesitate but came right back with a truth that his proverb overlooked; "Even the dogs under the table get some crumbs."

Martin Luther marveled at her reply and said, "He is silent as a stick. Look, this is really a hard thump. Her reply was a masterpiece." It was indeed a masterpiece. It made Jesus stop and think. When he replied it was probably after a pause and with a smile as he said, "For saying that you may go -- the demon has left your daughter."

For a truthful, penetrating response, he granted her wish and healed her daughter. This unnamed Syrophoenecian mother tells the truth and her daughter is healed. Someone has said, "when we lie we die." But when we tell the truth life has a chance.

We come to the table to tell the truth. Like this woman, we come to ask for what only Jesus can give, secure in the truth that his power is for us as well as for others. He does not put a fence around the table and say that only certain privileged people may receive his blessing. But we come also to admit that sometimes we lie, or cheat, or sin in some other way. We admit that we do what we ought not to do and that we fail to do what we ought to do. And Jesus honors our truth telling. He heals, forgives, and renews our life and our hopes. So let us come confessing our sins, but also confessing our faith in the one who loves us and gave himself for us.

*The ideal of telling the truth based on this story is from Joseph R. Jeter, Jr. Re/Membering, p 123)