Perceptions from a Pewboy

OK, just for giggles, here we go.

On this Halloween, I am inspired to ask the same question that I asked last year at this time:

What have been the films that have frightened you most over the years?

Here is my personal list, in no particular order. (It is essentially the same list that I provided last year, with one exception: I bumped “Poltergeist” from the list and replaced it with “The Orphanage.”)

“The Exorcist” (1973–This film is replete with some of the most horrifying cinematic moments that I have ever experienced. Though certainly a bona fide horror film, the film’s pacing, dialogue, and acting are far more reflective of a well-crafted drama. The coldly manipulative and dreadfully eloquent phrases offered by “the devil” create a sense of palpable spiritual tension, especially since they are starkly juxtaposed with the vulnerability and brokenness of the people to whom the phrases are offered. Lastly, Linda Blair’s treatment of a crucifix makes Ned Beatty’s famous scene in “Deliverance” look romantically tender!)

“The Changeling” (1980–A memorable haunted house film starring George C. Scott. If you’ve seen it, you’ll understand when I tell you that I haven’t felt the same about wheelchairs or rubber balls since I watched it the first time.)

“Halloween” (1978–A small but effective film that wisely resists the temptation to say too much about its villain or his motives. The film simply puts him in front of us, throws an old Captain Kirk mask on him, and forces us to be terrified.)

“Psycho” (1960–I still have to keep an eye on the door when I shower!)

“Seven” (1995–Although more of a frightening crime drama than a horror film, “Seven” nevertheless provides several occasions of true cinematic horror. Personally, I find it to be a better film than “Silence of the Lambs,” to which it is often compared.)

“Alien” and “Aliens” (1979 and 1986–I place these two films together because they work in much they same way. By creating a powerful sense of claustrophobia, a dreadful network of circumstances, a number of interesting characters, and a way cool monster, the films stand as a couple of the finest “monster movies” ever made. Along with…)

“Jaws” (1975–Years ago, when we first purchased a DVD player, my wife Tara asked me if I wanted her to buy our very first DVD on her way home from work. I said yes. She asked me which one to buy. I told her to buy a gripping classic that would be both fun and compelling to watch. She came home with “Jaws,” thereby proving once again that she’s the coolest woman on the planet. Put simply, “Jaws” rocks. Speaking of which, did you about the woman from “Jaws” who had a dandruff problem?…………. They found her head and shoulders on the beach!!!!)

“The Ring” (2002–I know, I know. “It’s not as good as the original Japanese film, ‘Ringu.’” But, having seen both, I just don’t buy that. I’ll take “The Ring” over “Ringu” any day. When Samara actually crawled out of the television set, I screamed like a wild man and whispered to Tara, “That’s one of the scariest things that I have ever seen!”)

“The Shining” (1980–This, by the way, is also one of my favorite Stephen King novels. As a film–and, more specifically, as a film brought to life by a visionary director like Stanley Kubrick–it grabbed my attention and never let it go. I find it to be a brilliant story about ghosts, family dynamics, and one man’s rapid descent into madness. Plus, it is some of Scatman Crothers’ best work since Hong Kong Phooey.)

“Rosemary’s Baby” (1968–Ostensibly a story about the spawn of Satan, this film also creates a portrait of social alienation among Manhattan’s elite. Quite frankly, I’m not sure which storyline is more terrifying!)

“Fright Night” and “The Lost Boys” (1985 and 1987–To be honest, these are not stellar films. But it didn’t feel right to create a list like this without putting a couple of vampire films on it. These two films contain a wonderful combination of campy fun and genuine jolts. That’s the tooth, and nothing but the tooth.)

“American Werewolf in London” (1981–Humor and horror, in my opinion, are never far away from one another. Do you need proof? Look no further than “American Werewolf in London.” Throughout the film, I found myself simultaneously giggling and covering my eyes. Plus, this film offers the best “transformation into a werewolf” scene that you will ever see.)

“Exorcist III” (1990–Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. This clever film is a well-crafted piece of work that captures some of the depth and dread of “The Exorcist” while at the same time exploring some new territory. At times, it is genuinely terrifying.)

“The Orphanage” (2007–I saw this film for the first time just one week ago, and I am not over it yet. It is a smart and cleverly written ghost story that brilliantly juxtaposes the security of a mother’s love and the spiritual unsettledness of a memory-laden home for children.)

“The Sixth Sense” (1999–Is this film really a frightening drama or a dramatic horror film? Who cares?! All I know is that, when I saw it a second time, the scary scenes still gave me goosebumps, even though I knew they were coming. That’s the mark of a truly haunting film.)

“When a Stranger Calls” (1979–When the babysitter hears that ominous question from the mysterious caller–”Have you checked the children?”–I am always pulled into the depths of her fear and helpless vulnerability. Later, when she discovers that the calls are coming from inside the house, I normally lose control of my bodily functions.)

Thanks for taking the time to read through my list. I hope that it was a fun trip for you.

Enjoy your Halloween–and have a couple of good scares while you’re at it.

I had a surprising Halloween treat the other night. I was pleasantly unnerved (oxymoronic as that may sound) by a relatively new ghost story. The story came in the form of a film entitled “The Orphanage.” Made in Spain in 2007 (”El Orfanato”) and subtitled in English, “The Orphanage” explores a family’s odyssey into surreality, set against the backdrop of a desperate mother’s indefatigable commitment to her young son who, quite cryptically, goes missing. The fact that the story unfolds in an atmospheric old house with a dark and dubious history only adds to the film’s eeriness. The house had once been an orphanage for children who, for reasons unknown at the beginning of the film, never made it to adulthood.

Suffice it to say that the children from the old orphanage are dead, but not gone. Not by a long shot.

Sergio G. Sánchez, who wrote the screenplay, has a gift for creating dialogue that is compelling enough in its content and rhythmic enough in its flow to withstand translation. Director Juan Antonio Bayona keeps the tone beautifully understated (much like M. Night Shyamalan in his best work), thereby heightening the sense of foreboding that permeates every portion of the story.

Award-winning actress Belén Rueda (who demonstrated her ability to hold her own opposite the great Javier Bardem in 2004’s “The Sea Inside”) gives a haunting (if you’ll permit the adjective) performance as a mother who stubbornly refuses to believe that her missing son is beyond saving. Her single-minded and pertinacious pursuit of her child made me think more than once about the relentlessness of God’s pursuit of the lost. Like a shepherd desperately searching for a lost sheep, or a woman overturning everything to find a lost coin, or a rejected father holding out hope for the return of a wayward son, the mother at the heart of “The Orphanage” brings to mind the unflagging efforts of the Divine Parent.

In terms of the effectiveness of the film, let’s put it this way. I watched “The Orphanage” at home by myself on Friday night. (Tara was in New Jersey for her sister’s bridal shower.) When the film was over, I had to make certain that all the upstairs lights were on before I could even think about turning off any of the downstairs lights. I had to watch a little bit of Letterman just to take my mind off of the creepiness of it all.

Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!!

Check out “The Orphanage” (on Blu-Ray, if possible). Of course, if you don’t like scary films, then put on your bonnet and go see “High School Musical 3.”

OK, so, in my last post, I addressed the issue of rushing to judgment—a pattern of behavior to which many of us, myself included, are pathologically prone.

With your kind indulgence, as I continue in my exploration of this issue, I will move from the realm of theological analysis to personal experience.

On my freshman floor in college, I had a floor-mate who inspired within me a rush to judgment nearly every time I encountered him. (Have you ever known people who seemed to be so happy in their iniquity that you practically couldn’t help but want to place yourself in the position of their final judge?) His name was Perry, although he went by PJ. PJ’s sexual promiscuity was common knowledge. His fondness for alcohol brought him into a frequent condition of embarrassing and debilitating drunkenness. His disdain for what he called the hypocrisy of organized religion frequently found expression in his anti-church soliloquies.

For a long time I didn’t like him. Truthfully, the dislike was more like disdain. I hated what he represented, and every time I encountered him my self-righteousness inspired me to celebrate my moral superiority over him. “Whatever hell is,” I remember thinking to myself during those days, “this guy has a reserved seat there.” The problem was that this thought—the thought of his separation from God—didn’t sadden me at all. In fact, a part of me found a perverse glee in playing the role of the eternal judge and consigning him to his eternal judgment.

But here’s the thing. When another floor mate suddenly lost his father to a heart attack, PJ was the one who went to all of his professors and sorted things out. PJ was the one who drove him to the airport. And PJ was the only one from our floor who flew to the funeral. Before he left for the funeral, PJ showed to me the card that he was going to send to the family. I’ll never forget the moment that I read it. On the front of the card was a verse of Scripture: “Jesus said, ‘Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid’” (John 14:27). Inside the card, PJ had written something like this: “I am praying for all of you in this time of pain and loss.”

“PJ,” I said, “I thought you didn’t believe in God.”

“I never said that I didn’t believe it God. And I never said that I didn’t believe in Jesus. All that I said was that I have some serious problems with the church. But don’t tell anybody, OK?”

“Don’t tell anybody what?”

“Don’t tell anybody,” he said, “that I’m a closet Jesus guy. Let’s keep that our little secret.”

I saw PJ differently after that. Don’t misunderstand, I still believed that many portions of his behavior dishonored who it was that God created him to be, and he knew of my viewpoints concerning those matters. But I stopped despising him at that point. I stopped playing the role of his eternal judge. And I stopped lording myself over him in my self-established spiritual hierarchy.

In my encounters with PJ during those days, it became abundantly clear to me that there were portions of PJ’s heart that I did not know. Furthermore, it became clear to me that God was not finished with PJ yet, just as God was not finished with me yet. In that regard, PJ and I stood together at the foot of the cross. And, have you noticed how difficult it is to play the role of someone’s eternal judge after realizing that the person you want so desperately to judge is standing right beside you in the shadow of the cross?

Two thousand years ago, the Apostle Paul offered this teaching to Christians who were prone to rushing to judgment: “Do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, because he is the one who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart” (1 Corinthians 4:5). Those, I think, are important words for us. They are words that bring to us the truth that a rush to judgment cannot be accommodated by a slow and steady walk with Jesus Christ.

When was the last time that you rushed to judgment concerning someone else’s behavior, or character, or value?

At the United Methodist General Conference that I attended last spring in Fort Worth, Texas, a woman delegate asked for permission to speak on a certain issue. As she made her way to the microphone, a man sitting behind me muttered to the man sitting beside him, “Uh oh,” he said, “here comes another speech from a militant feminist.” Before the woman had ever spoken a single word, before listening to any of her viewpoints and ideas, the man sitting behind me had made a rush to judgment, thereby categorizing and essentially dismissing the woman in such a way that she would probably never be granted access to any significant position in his view of the world.

At that same General Conference, there were many people present who very much want the church to change its stance on the issue of homosexuality. Some of those people would stand at the doors to the convention center and hand out literature supporting their cause. One day, I watched as a fifty something year old woman confronted one of those lobbyists. “I don’t want any of your literature,” she said to the person sternly, “because you people don’t believe in the Bible and you don’t even belong in the church.” Before the woman had even taken a look a single piece of literature, before allowing herself to acknowledge the personhood of the man standing in front of her, she had made a mad rush to judgment, thereby categorizing and essentially dismissing the man in such a way that he would probably never be granted access to any significant position in her view of the world.

At that same General Conference, a woman who was there, not as a delegate, but simply as a prayerful observer, was accosted by a self-described “progressive” man who told her that she was being divisive because she raised her hands during the music and knelt beside her chair during prayer. Before the man had invested a single minute in coming to know who this praying woman was or what her devotion to prayer might be like, he had made a mad rush to judgment, thereby categorizing and essentially dismissing the woman in such a way that she would probably never be granted access to any significant position in his view of the world.

The other day, I mentally checked out of a conversation that I was experiencing with a twenty-something year old man after he told me that, in this day and age, he would never get married to a woman without living with her first. The thoughts that were running through my mind in that moment were essentially these: “I’m dealing with someone whose ethics concerning sex and marriage are so thoroughly distorted, what’s the sense of prolonging this conversation?” In my conversation with that young man, I had jettisoned love in favor of a mad rush to judgment, thereby categorizing him and dismissing him in such a way that, in that conversation, he would not be granted access to any significant position in my view of the world.

Rushing to judgment comes fairly naturally to us. “Pious” United Methodist clergy rush to judgment concerning denominational events, processes, and motives. Superior-sounding political “pundits” rush to judgment concerning anything that the opposing party puts forth (especially in a presidential election season). Church people rush to judgment concerning the lives being lived just outside the walls of the church building. There is a rushing to judgment to which all of us are prone. My sense is that rushing to judgment is the unhealthy and often sinful way in which we endeavor to create the artificial boundaries by which we determine who is “in” and who is “out” in our categorization of the people we encounter. Rushing to judgment is also a cheap and fast way to bolster our sense of moral superiority.

Our penchant for rushing to judgment makes this teaching from the Apostle Paul all the more daunting in its implications: “Do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, because he is the one who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart” (1 Corinthians 4:5). Paul is not suggesting, of course, that we shouldn’t think critically or that we shouldn’t establish behavioral and theological boundaries within the church’s ministry and the life of discipleship. (The Corinthian correspondence makes abundantly clear that Paul is not at all reluctant to hold people accountable for their behavior!)

But Paul does seem to be making clear that, as followers of the Living Christ, we do not have the right to rush to the kind of judgment that would cause us to dismiss and mistreat people or to lord ourselves over them simply because they fall on the wrong side of our personally (or collectively) held convictions. If I understand this moment of Scripture rightly, such a dismissive and self-righteous rush to judgment is never an option for one who wishes to incarnate the Spirit of Christ. Because, as Paul writes, we cannot know what is “hidden” in people’s hearts. We do not have the wherewithal to discern the intricacies of their life journey, nor do we have the capacity to identify with certainty the “purposes of [their] heart” upon which the Holy Spirit may very well be hard at work.

In my next blog entry, I will share with you the way in which I learned this biblical lesson the hard way—by personal experience.

This weekend, October 18 and 19, is Consecration Weekend in the church that I serve. Here is the invitation to Consecration Weekend that I offered to the people of the church:

One of my favorite moments in Scripture is found in the 12th chapter of John’s Gospel. There, a woman by the name of Mary (sister to Martha and Lazarus) anoints Jesus’ feet with an expensive perfume. When Judas, one of Jesus’ disciples, sees the woman using the expensive perfume in this fashion, he becomes righteously angry. “Hold on,” Judas says. “What’s the meaning of this? We could have sold that perfume for a lot of money, all of which might have been used to minister to the poor.” Judas, you see, is eminently practical in his view of ministry. He sees Mary’s behavior as needlessly extreme and extravagant, especially given the practical needs of the poor.

Plan on being present for one or more of our weekend services on October 18th and 19th. I firmly believe that it will be one of the most blessed weekends of our church’s year.

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to spend some time with several colleagues in a retreat setting. The retreat was called “The Great Escape” (no doubt a reference to the process of “escaping,” spiritually speaking, into the depths of God’s transforming presence). Because of teaching responsibilities that I had on Wednesday evening, I had to leave the retreat earlier than I wanted to.

The primary facilitator of the retreat was Gil Rendle, an author and ecclesiastical consultant. I greatly appreciated Rendle’s presentation, especially his liberating acknowledgment of the fact that the decline in the American portion of United Methodism is not a problem to be solved but a condition for which to be trained. Although most clergy, myself included, have been reflecting on the issues of a changing culture for a number of years, Rendle’s presentation added substantive analysis to the shifting “tectonics” of American culture and the ecclesiastical implications of this shifting.

As is frequently the case following such a presentation, I find myself struggling with the question of how conversion, repentance, and transformation figure into the shifting culture that Rendle so thoroughly describes. For example, Rendle made frequent reference to the “narrow margins” of time in which people are currently living their lives (compared to the much wider margins that characterized the time management of previous generations). In a nutshell, the imagery of “narrow margins” is Rendle’s way of illuminating the ever-shrinking amount of unscheduled time that is likely to be found in the jam-packed lives of postmodern people.

According to Rendle, the church, if it wants to connect with such busy souls, has no option but to change both its expectations and its understanding of committed involvement. In a world of narrow margin living, says Rendle, infrequent participation in the church’s ministry is the new norm, while the covenant promises of membership are little more than an institutional relic of a bygone age.

But what about the Holy Spirit’s capacity to transform, not only our consciousness, but also our conceptualization of time? In other words, doesn’t the Holy Spirit have a way of converting people to a “wider margin” way of living? Isn’t it part of the Spirit’s work to sanctify a life to such an extent that people begin to change the way they prioritize their activities and spend their time? And, if this is indeed the case, isn’t it a dangerous thing to begin tampering with what the church has expected of people over the centuries?

A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with a man who recently entered into a much deeper place in his relationship with Jesus Christ. Since this experience of deepening, his life has undergone some significant changes, not the least of which has been a restructuring of his schedule. “I always used to say that I was way too busy for church stuff,” he said to me. “But these days, I would never miss the opportunity to worship with the congregation…Church used to be an optional hobby that I would feel free to jettison from my schedule when other things came up. But now, I build my whole schedule around the church. Worship on the weekend, Bible study in the middle of the week, small group on Thursday…These have become the pillars that hold up my week.”

When I reflect upon that conversation, I cannot help but think that the Holy Spirit has been about the business of widening the margins of that man’s life considerably, thereby creating the kind of redemptive space in which a newly-developed devotion to the church’s ministry might be nurtured.

Please don’t misunderstand the nature of this post. I am not setting myself against Rendle’s viewpoint. His analysis of the current cultural climate is right on target, as is his emphasis upon the urgency of adaptability in the church’s ministry. All that I am asking is this: Is it possible for us to become so eager to accommodate the culture’s proclivities that we truncate our theology of sanctification? To put it another way, is it possible to be so quick to lower the bar concerning what we expect from people that we lose sight of the Holy Spirit’s capacity to inspire within people a deeper devotion than we could ever envision?

At the small church that I once served in North Carolina, I collected the offering plates from the ushers during worship one Sunday morning, only to discover a set of car keys in one of the plates. Although greatly curious about the keys, I was unable to satisfy my curiosity since I was right smack dab in the middle of a worship service.

The first person to greet me following worship was Phillip. Phillip was one of those people in whom it was not always easy to see the face of Jesus. His life seemed to be an extended movement from one crisis to another. He regularly demanded more of my time than I was willing to give.

“Preacher,” Phillip said to me that day, “did you see my car keys in the offering plate?”

“Yes I did, Phillip. What’s that all about?”

“That’s my offering to God this week,” he answered. I must have looked perplexed at that point. “Don’t you get it,” he asked. “I’m giving my 1982 Honda Civic to the church. It has 119,000 miles on it, but it still runs. I got me another car a few days ago, so I thought I’d give the Honda to the church. I figured I’d help the church to sell it so that the church could use the money for something special.”

That, by the way is precisely what we did. Phillip sold the car for $1,100, then gave the money to the church. That money paid for the church’s Sunday School curriculum for the next two years.

“Phillip,” I said to him, “what made you want to give your car to the church instead of trading it in?” His response was significant. “Well,” he said, “five months ago, this church opened its doors and invited me to come inside. Four months ago, this church put water on my head, baptized me, and made me feel like I belonged. Two months ago, this church gave me a new Bible, so that I could learn more about God. And one month ago, this church gave my family groceries when I was between jobs.”

Tears began to form in his eyes. “This church has been giving me stuff for five months,” Phillip said. “But today, I wanted to be the giver for a change. When I prayed about it, the Lord helped me to see that my 1982 Honda Civic was the best gift that I could offer. So that’s what I’m giving.”

How eccentric and beautiful the Holy Spirit is! He is a Spirit who speaks, even through a disenfranchised soul like Phillip, thereby blindsiding an unsuspecting preacher, and thereby teaching a congregation something significant about what it means to honor God with our very best gifts.

Eager to be frightened and unsettled, Tara and I went to see the film “Quarantine” last night at the AMC Loews Theater at the Homestead Waterfront. An American remake of the 2007 Spanish film “REC,” “Quarantine” tells the story of diverse people unified by their exposure to a dreadful disease. The disease manifests itself as an advanced and particularly fierce form of rabies, passed through bodily fluids, the symptoms of which appear in hours—or even minutes—rather than weeks or months. Those who are infected become horrifically savage in their behavior, relentlessly violent in their impulses, and unnervingly passionate in their motiveless desire to attack.

Those infected, in other words, become zombie-like—dead, but not quite dead; mindless, but not without impulse; corporeal, but not at all human.

Here’s a humorous side note: On the way into the movie theater, Tara and I ran into two of our churchmembers and friends—a husband and wife—who were also going to see a movie last night. “What are you two going to see,” the husband asked. “Wait,” he said, “let me guess. You’re going to see ‘Fireprooof,’ right? That’s what we’re going to see too.” (’Fireproof’ is the new Christian film with Kirk Cameron. It’s the kind of film that clergy types like yours truly are expected to see!)

“Well,” I said to the man, “no, we’re not going to see ‘Fireproof’ tonight. We have tickets…uh…to see…er….uh…’Quarantine.’” The husband and wife smiled at us. “OK,” the husband said, “but you’d better review it on your blog. I can’t wait to hear about the spiritual revelation that you experienced in a movie about rabid zombies!”

True to my word, here I am!

One of the more interesting dimensions of “Quarantine” is the way in which it places the rabid ferocity of the zombies alongside the militaristic force utilized by the government to quarantine those who have been exposed to the disease. Inside the old apartment building in which they are forced to remain, the quarantined deal moment by moment with the terror of the zombie-making disease and its ramifications. However, if those not yet infected get too close to the windows, the soldiers surrounding the building will shoot them. The dynamics of this scenario serve to maintain a sense of both social paranoia and gut-wrenching inevitability. Throughout the film, the audience is forced to ask itself the question, “Which is to be preferred: death at the hands of zombies, or death at the hands of soldiers who are are acting like zombies?”

In either case, the uninfected people inside the apartment building become something less than human to those around them. To the zombies inside the building, they become food to be consumed. To the “zombies” outside the building, they become a faceless threat to be unceremoniously eliminated.

In the middle of the film, I found myself wondering who it is that I have dehumanized in my ministry and in my discipleship. Who is it that I would rather consume or eliminate, so that I might spare myself the inconvenience of dealing with them? Certain churchpeople, perhaps? Or certain pastors? Or certain personalities that I find offensive? Or certain opinion-holders who, in my estimation, are holding the wrong opinions? Who is it that I have made expendable in my personal reflection, even though I would never be honest enough to put it so starkly?

The fact that “Quarantine” inspired such questions is, I suppose, an indication that the film is a cut above a run-of-the-mill zombie flick.

Like last year’s “Cloverfield” and 1999’s “The Blair Witch Project,” “Quarantine” plays like a documentary, complete with the cinematic shakiness and vibration that result from filming with a hand-held (or shoulder-held) video camera. Many of those moviegoers sitting around us complained of headaches and nausea during the film. Some had to leave the theater. Personally, I am a bit weary of the “documentary” technique. I understand that such a technique can bring about an unparalleled sense of cinematic realism, and that the shaky camerawork can generate a palpable mood of frenetic disorder. Nevertheless, it feels a bit played. I couldn’t shake the feeling (no pun intended) that “Quarantine” was utilizing the technique as an artistic shortcut instead of relying on the creative use of music, lighting, camera angles, and, of course, the work of the actors.

That said, it was a fun night out. Some film critics, on principle, automatically dislike American remakes of foreign films. I am not one of them. “Quarantine” is effectively frightening, even terrifying, in its creation of an apocalyptic microcosm that might exist right down the block. Even more impressive to me is the way in which it accomplishes something that many so called horror films fail to achieve: It engages me to the point of caring about its characters and the implications of its story.

“Quarantine” is not for the faint of heart (or those prone to motion sickness!). But I am still thinking about the film on Saturday morning. That must be worth something.

The following words appear in the welcome literature of the congregation that I am privileged to serve. On this World Communion Sunday, I find myself reading through these words and meditating upon their meaning.

The United Methodist tradition maintains that the bread and cup of the Lord’s Supper are not merely symbols, but conduits for the real presence of the Living Christ. We believe, therefore, that Christ-followers are to partake of the Lord’s Supper often and with joyful reverence.

As United Methodist Christians, we believe all are welcome at the Communion table who repent of their sin and place their trust in Christ, regardless of their denominational affiliation or church membership status. One need not be a member of any particular congregation in order to commune at Central Highlands Church. All that is required is an availability to the grace of Jesus Christ and a willingness to acknowledge our need for him.

This day, I pray that many if not all of you are able to taste a portion of the goodness of God in the bread and cup of the Lord’s Supper.

I’ll be with you at the table.