by James Webb
I’m sitting in someone’s living room, with a small group of people. We’re in silence, though it’s not an awkward silence. We’re waiting and thinking and praying. We’re about to take communion together. Read more
(A serious thought became this not-so-serious poem. I’m not sure that the ten-syllables per line experiment really works, nor am I totally thrilled with the rhyme in the last verse, but it’ll do.)
Have you ever discovered something big
hidden away in a minuscule place?
Maybe something obvious, but more like
a raindrop that’s reflecting a child’s face.
We’re used to seeing small things in the big,
like grains of sand hidden amongst a beach,
or the grains of truth buried deep, hidden
within a major politician’s speech.
What’s the biggest thing you’ve ever noticed
hidden away inside something that’s small?
An elephant in a matchbox, perhaps,
or maybe nothing that silly at all?
As for me, I bet I’ve got you all beat,
for I had the most magnificent find.
You see, today I found the universe
in a scrap of bread and a sip of wine.
Today we remember the Passover that Jesus shared with his friends before his death; that moment when Jesus took physical, created things and imbued them with a clearly defined spiritual significance. Whatever you call it, Communion, the Eucharist, the Lord’s Supper, it has its roots in the bread and wine of this final meal.
Across the world and across history, the Church has regularly remembered this moment, born in the anguish of the Last Supper. It’s ironic that while we devote so much of our efforts to fleeing from suffering, we repeatedly return to this bittersweet moment because we know that it is here that God places something special into His creation.
When I did my Master’s degree, I wrote my dissertation on suffering, because I thought that if I was going to have to write a dissertation, it should be on a topic that was going to be useful for pastoral ministry. Suffering seemed like a pretty obvious subject to look at. One of the things that I’ve learnt is that, like Communion, suffering only makes sense through the eyes of faith. Without faith, the bread and wine is just food and drink. Without faith, the cross is just a scene of injustice. Without faith, suffering is pointless. With faith, however, the bread and wine become heralds of a perfect future. With faith, the cross becomes the ultimate victory. With faith, suffering becomes a place where God meets us and does His work.
This is Easter! It’s the moment when God took the worst that the Enemy could throw at Him and turned it on its head. It’s the moment when suffering becomes the vehicle of salvation. And Easter is every moment in your life when you look at suffering through the eyes of faith.
Speaking of boats (well, I was last week), I’ve been reading a book – Ben Wilson’s Empire of the Deep: The Rise and Fall of the British Navy. It’s a cracking read, for the three of us who are interested in British naval history. It’s been interesting to read about Admiral Nelson, whose superlative performance in battle seemed to come down to the level of trust he’d built up with his officers, and that he’d earned the respect and love of his superbly disciplined sailors. Read more
