Stop and Think

Crying Babies, Awkward Interactions, and Corporate Prayer

nick@thezerwas.com — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 16:30:00 GMT

Here are some things I noticed yesterday at Emmaus that make me love the local church:

Crying Babies - there are often a few babies making noise during the service. I love this. The sounds of a crying or cooing baby makes it feel more like a family gathering than a performance. It reminds me that this experience is not merely academic. I'm not sitting in a classroom taking notes on some esoteric theory that nobody will ever care about. There are babies in our midst that will be looking to us to teach them about the love of Christ.
Brief Connections - Right before the service began, a gentleman that I don't know very well came up behind me, gave a gentle squeeze to my shoulder, smiled, and said good morning. He went out of his way to sincerely (there was not doubt in my mind that it was sincere) wish a good morning to someone he hardly knows. I felt the love and nearness of God in that brief interaction.
Awkward Interactions - You know this one. Maybe it's in the parking lot or at the welcome table. Maybe you've forgotten a name that you should know. Maybe a conversation has gone on longer than is comfortable and you can't get out. Maybe there are long, odd silences as you strike up a conversation with someone new. As weird as these times are, I think there's something beautiful about them. It's as if the church can be this messy place and yet there's still a sense of safety.
Corporate Prayer - There are times in the worship service when we offer corporate prayer. Yesterday these times felt more real, more powerful, more visceral, than they have in a long time. Listening to the silence in the room (except for the cooing baby) seeing some heads bowed, some hands raised, some eyes closed... I knew that even if I couldn't find the words to pray that my church family was crying out for me somehow. I felt strong and loved.
Creative Experiences - I know that I can have some creative worship experiences on my own or with my immediate family. However, when a diverse body of people gather, each bringing unique gifts and perspectives, the creative experience of worship is powerful and beautiful. The voices and instruments that I wouldn't otherwise hear… the images (yesterday it was an image of the face of Jesus that was made up of thousands of smaller images of other faces) that I wouldn't otherwise see… the stories interwoven into the teaching that I wouldn't otherwise experience. My faith is more full and rich because of these experiences.
Basketball Hoops - We're in this space that really does feel sacred. There are candles and crosses and the elements of communion. And yet, there are also basketball hoops and folding chairs and cartoon animals on the walls. This elementary school gymnasium that becomes Emmaus' worship space for 2 hours on Sunday morning has something powerful to teach me about the interaction of the worship of Christ and the world in which I live.

My Mandarin. Broken For You.

nick@thezerwas.com — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 21:56:00 GMT

We had breakfast at Emmaus today. The room was filled with tables and the tables were stacked high with food. Eggs, bread, french toast, fruit, pastries, juice and coffee. It was beautiful. It was set up as a communion "love feast."

My family showed up a bit early to help set up. After everything was set up we all sat at a table and listened to the band practice. Morgan was talking with a friend. While she talked she peeled a mandarin and handed it to Bracken, who was sitting between us. He had been asking for mandarins all morning. Bracken took the mandarin excitedly from Morgan, then carefully broke off a few slices and handed them to me. "For you, Daddy," he said.

If we weren't getting ready for a communion service I may not have noticed these actions and words as something very familiar. But today, they stuck out. Broken. For you.

Stinky Clothes in Gilroy

nick@thezerwas.com — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 19:35:00 GMT

Here are some images that Nate used this week to describe the megas charis (or much grace) that marked the early Jesus movement:

I have no silver or gold...

nick@thezerwas.com — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 17:07:39 GMT

"One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon. And a man lame from birth was being carried in. People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, ‘Look at us.’ And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, ‘I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.’"

Acts 3:1-6

Did Peter and John really not have money to give? They were the leaders of a 3000+ member movement - a movement whose members had the regular habit of selling their possessions and giving the money to the community. I wonder if Peter and John actually had quite a bit of money. I wonder if their initial response was the same as mine when a beggar asks for spare change: "Sorry man, I don't have any."

Do I have money to give? Yes. Is there something more important than money? In the case of this lame man in Acts 3, Yes. Peter and John give something much more important. Whether or not they lied about having money doesn't seem to matter. They offer restoration into the community.

The easiest answer is "Sorry, I don't have any." The next easiest is to simply give a few dollars. The hardest would be to offer restoration. I don't even know how.

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The Resurrection doesn't make a whole lot of difference...

nick@thezerwas.com — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 18:37:34 GMT

Nate asked this powerful question several times on Sunday: What difference does the resurrection make? His answer, both profound and true, was that it doesn't make much of a difference at all... unless it "comes home."

If the resurrection is merely something that happened a few thousand years ago, if it lives only in the realm of history, if it's something that we think about and read about but nothing more, then the reality is that it doesn't make much difference.

We looked at Acts 2 to see what the resurrection meant for the early Church. For the disciples and the growing community of Christians in the 1st Century, the resurrection was the "defining reality of their life." Resurrection affected them on every level. There was no escaping it, no forgetting it, no confining it to one day a year or one day a week. It was the very definition of who they were; it was their life.

The question then becomes, "What about us?" What if we were defined by the new life of Christ's resurrection? What if resurrection was the rule in our homes and families and workplaces? What if our decisions and actions and thoughts and emotions were birthed out of the new life that resurrection brings?

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Black Paper

nick@thezerwas.com — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 17:42:05 GMT

On Palm Sunday Nate encouraged us to spend some extra time this week focusing on the events that marked the last week of Jesus' life.

Morgan and I tried to do this with our kids. Each day we read a few pages from Carson's Children's Bible about the last week of Jesus' life. On Sunday, we read about Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey, about the palm branches and shouts of "Hosanna!" On Thursday we read about the last supper and the foot washing. While we read we drank some grape juice and ate some unleavened bread. On Friday, we read about Jesus' trial, his crucifixion and his burial. After reading on Friday we covered the windows in our living room and kitchen with black paper. It was only 5pm but the room was dark... dismal. All day Saturday, even with some lights on in the house, it was depressing to be in the living room. It felt heavy and dreary.

On Sunday we woke up early and tore the paper down. We read the Easter story. This was the second year of the "Black Paper Tradition." To me, the image was beautiful. Light penetrating darkness. New Life. Someday I think our kids will see the beauty and power of the symbol too. For now, it may be lost on them.

How do I know this? After reading the story of the resurrection, Carson flips back a few pages and says, "Daddy, read about Jesus dying... I like that part."

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Easter is sneaking up on me

nick@thezerwas.com — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 23:00:45 GMT

Last year at Emmaus the season of lent coincided with a series on lament. This series had the effect (intended, I'm sure) of drawing my attention to the sacrifice and suffering that in some ways serve as a great preparation for Easter. This year it's different. Easter is kind of sneaking up on me this year.

On Fat Tuesday, a friend of mine recommended giving something away every day during lent. I loved the idea and I've latched onto it as a lenten practice this year. Now that I'm 30 days into it though, it seems like less of a sacrifice than I assumed it would be. That is to say I have easily 40 things that I'm not all that attached to (this is moderately embarrassing). Maybe this is why it feels like I haven't been paying attention to lent. Maybe I should have taken on something a bit more difficult - maybe I should just give away things that are a bit more difficult (rather than the shirts that I haven't worn in years and the books that have never been opened.) Another friend recently told me that he had given up raisins for lent - not because they were a vice for him but because not having them on his cereal in the morning would serve as a daily reminder of sacrifice and having them again on Easter, would be celebration. I like this.

It's my prayer that I would be able to pay attention to God over the next several days of lent, that I would notice God's Spirit, that I would be aware of the vast story that I get to be part of, that I would ask the question Nate asked so beautifully on Sunday, "Where is God in all of this?"

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Awkward and kind of Beautiful

nick@thezerwas.com — Sat, 21 Mar 2009 22:44:10 GMT

I'm now on the prayer team at Emmaus. I'm not exactly sure if that is what it's called but the concept goes like this: each Sunday during communion and the last few songs of the service, there are a few people available to pray with others in the congregation. An announcement is made before communion - "If you want prayer, there will be a few people available under the popup tent in the back."

This week was only my second week under the popup tent. It's just a regular square popup tent. If it were outside you might think that the people standing under it were grilling some burgers or selling things at a farmers market, or watching their kids play soccer. But for about 20 minutes every Sunday it becomes this 9ft. by 9ft. sanctuary - a sacred space where we experience God through prayer.

Most of my 20 minutes under the tent this week was spent simply watching people walk by, receive communion, and walk by again. I didn't know much about the stories of most of the people I watched walk by. Still, I tried to imagine what they might be thinking and feeling. I asked God to fill them up. Only one couple stopped for prayer. They were both very calm as they explained how she had just been laid off and they were unsure of what was next for them. I listened. I tried to ask a few empathetic questions. Then I put one hand on each of their shoulders and I prayed.

I felt some tears welling up in me as I prayed. This is not all that uncommon; I consider myself a crier. I didn't reveal this to the person who first asked me to be on the prayer team, although I think I maybe should have. Maybe I should have to wear a name tag to let people know. Maybe it should be part of the announcement, "If you want prayer, there will be a few people available under the popup tent in the back. If you want prayer without tears, avoid the guy with the name tag that says, 'hello, I'm a crier'".

I felt like I was asking God to help this couple, and at the same time, desperately trying to hold myself together. Praying out-loud is awkward already. Praying out-loud with people that you don't know very well - people that have just shared an incredible hardship with you - is especially awkward. Now add to that the moment that we say amen and open our eyes and I'm the one with tears while they still have this unbelievable sense of calm sense of calm.

Awkward and kind of beautiful.

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A Family Meal or a Worship Service?

nick@thezerwas.com — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 20:24:37 GMT

We did something pretty cool at Emmaus this week. It may rank up there with the most amazing worship experiences of my life. Every week we celebrate communion together as part of the service. For the last 7 weeks the sermons have focused on helping us wrap ourselves around this communion experience - particularly focusing on 7 different parts of a prayer for communion that we pray together each week.

This week was the final week of the communion series - week 8 - and here's what went down:

The Set-Up
When people showed up, they they were surprised to find that the room full of tables instead of the traditional rows of chairs that they are used to. Each table had 8 table settings, some kind of hot egg casserole, a plate of bread, a bowl of fruit, some salt and pepper, some crayons for the little ones, and a table tent (is that what they're called) with a few questions to get people thinking about family meals.

There was sunday school for kids under 3 but as families showed they were encouraged to bring their kids into the meal if they felt up to it. Kathryn had made these sweet coloring page place-mats with a "Last Supper" scene for the kids who did come into the meal.

The stage, instead of having the typical communion table that is more reminiscent of an altar than a table, had a dining room table set with a full meal on it and a few chairs around it.

The Service
People seemed surprised but still comfortable as they made their way into the room and found a spot at a table. The service began with a quick welcome from the pastor and a mellow song that served as a prayer for the meal.

Then we ate. It was loud and chaotic and beautiful. It felt like a party - maybe a wedding reception.

After about 15 or 20 minutes, I shared a few thoughts that I intended to be helpful in interpreting this meal experience as a window into communion.

Then we celebrated communion in a more traditional sense, sang a few more songs, received a benediction, and cleaned up.

Was it a family meal or a worship service?

Yes.

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It all comes down to this

nick@thezerwas.com — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 23:30:01 GMT

It was one of the best sermons that I've ever heard. We've been exploring the communion liturgy and this Sunday we got to the words of Christ. I think that I've focused in the past on "This is my Body, broken for you... and this is my blood, poured out for the forgiveness of sins." I have thought that the experience of communion rest squarely on these words - it has been about suffering, sacrifice, forgiveness, and the physical elements of bread and wine. But now...

Nate explained the nuances of the word that is used for "in memory of." Apparently the greek word is "anamnesis" and instead of the mostly passive mental experience that might come to mind when we hear the word remember, anamnesis an affectionate and active recollection. I thought the most helpful picture of this that Nate painted was the difference between remembering your mother who has passed away by putting a plaque on a park bench and practicing anamnesis by going to where she grew up, visiting her school, walking the streets that she walked when she was a little kid, reading her journals, getting to know what was important to her, volunteering at the library where she used to volunteer. It's as if you would step into her life. You would become part of her story. This hit me somewhere deep. To see communion not as a mental exercise of remembering Christ's sacrifice and trying our darnedest to have that impact us but instead as a step into Christ's story - a step towards a life that is no longer our own.

Another powerful image was that of three simple words that I have glossed over every week - "Take and eat." These words would have once signified death as Eve and Adam "took and ate" the forbidden fruit and were thus sentenced to death. Of course, this was an integral art of Israel's story. But what Christ does in this meal is he takes what once was a sign of darkness and he redeems it. He breaks bread, hands it to his friends and he says, "Take and Eat." I love this. The story that we are stepping into as we take and eat is a story that bring life where there was once only death. God help us.

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