Every day, they met together in the temple and ate in their homes. They shared food with gladness and simplicity. They praised God and demonstrated God’s goodness to everyone. The Lord added daily to the community those who were being saved. — Acts 2:46-47
Usually, two occasions cause me to cry. The first is when I look at old clips of my kids growing up and how adorable they were (are). The second is when Kevin Costner, at the end of Field of Dreams, asked his dad if he’d like to play a game of catch. (Even when I type that my eyes get watery.)
But my watery eyes surprised me a few weeks ago in church. Lead Pastor Ron Beaton had invited retired clergy connected to Manchester UMC to serve communion on Worldwide Communion Sunday. My friend and fellow old pastor, Dave Bennett, and I shared bread and cup with the folks in the balcony. Afterward, while going down the stairs, tears welled up in my eyes.
Well, that was surprising, catching me totally off guard. I couldn’t put a finger on where they came from. Later, it dawned on me. They were tears of gratitude for the beauty I just saw. People young and old, strong and feeble, smiling and solemn, all joined together in the simple act of dipping a piece of bread in a common cup. There are some works of art that move you to tears of appreciation. I think the work of art I just saw was the beauty when this diverse group of folks joined together as a unique family, bound together in the name of the One “whose nature and whose name is love.”
This is simply a reminder that we should never take church for granted. There’s a reason we call each other brother and sister, a privilege of all who call Jesus friend and Lord.
I’ll try not to cry the next time I go to church. But there are no guarantees.