Come and Eat

Fifty gazillion thoughts.
About that many posts begun, or written, but only in my mind.

Thoughts on life, on death............. Christmas, family, domestic violence, generosity, consumerism, overeating, body image, perceptions, truth, religion, faith, God, Jesus, dogs, cats, health, intentional living, money, relationships, time management, significance, self concept..... And there's more.

Life is layered.

Some of the other layers involve... Taking note of relational growth thanks to past intentional choices...... While simultaneously being painfully aware of fractures in other relationships. And wanting more. Desiring authenticity. Truth. And that impossible dream of the 47 hour day. Time enough to write, to read, to bake pies, to visit people, to volunteer, to initiate support groups, to create, to learn, to change............

It was with these thoughts and more that I made my way across the cold and crunchy Mennonite church parking lot Sunday morning, anticipating the healing aura of my sanctuary- my church.

I felt painfully tired. HE and her had kept us up late the night before, laughing and eating some of the sweetest swedish nuts ever. By the time we left, it was already tomorrow and we still had the drive home to navigate. Couple that with the fact that it was raining in January, and the roads were incredibly hazardous. I was relieved to get home not dead. The sharp pains in my back and shoulder attested to the tension that went into keeping us on the road and out of the floodway, or belly upside down like a few cars we cautiously passed along the way.

So, with my eyes burning, my back hurting, my mind and body feeling full on empty calories; I found my way to my favorite spot near the front of church.

There in front of me lay the elements of communion.

All my age-old beliefs and feelings about the eucharist swelled over me and I questioned whether I was worthy to partake. What condemnation would I drink upon myself?

While I did a quick mental inventory, a churchguy began a pre-communion address. I was busy rubbing my eyes and sucking on my coffee mug, and wondering about taking the elements, when he said three words that caught my attention.

"Come and eat."

He was describing Jesus' invitation to eat at His table. To accept His approach to living. To believe that what he says about good, and God, and Jesus as God, and all my ugliness being covered by his sacrifice as true. Currently true. So true in fact, that my life would forever be shaped by the knowledge that this force of good is current and active and available.

Could have been the effexor, or the exhaustion, or the fifty gazillion things doing laps in my brain... but the relief and clarity flowed wet down my cheeks as I joined my church family in holy communion.

Life is confusing. There are many aspects of religion that I've grown weary of. But I never cease to be moved when I recognize the invitation to come and eat. That Jesus is current. That getting all the answers is not my salvation. That heaven is not some faraway hope to hold out for, but more than that, a reality to live out beginning right now.

So, once again, and likely another fifty gazillion times over again, this is my choice.
To come. To eat.