last week karl facilitated a conversation around the upper room table at our weekend gathering about bread. Jesus said ‘i am the bread of life. whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” john 6:51. i missed part of the conversation, but got to catch up a bit on this thought when i finished reading “take this bread” by sara miles this past weekend (one advantage of being layed up with extreme back pain: lots of time to read!) what a great story about what can happen when an atheist walks into a church, takes communion, and enters into the wild and crazy journey of following Christ. an open table. food for the hungry. tasting and seeing God in unexplainable ways. creating a food pantry where hundreds come every week to get food, break bread together, and practice what radically inclusive community can look like. there were so many powerful images in the book that resonated with me related to community, “church”, and what it means to be the body of Christ here on earth corporately, individually.
with easter week upon us it was exactly the reminder i needed of the power of Jesus’ body & blood to transform. and for us, the “church”–his body here on earth–to touch and heal, too. there were so many great lines in the book, too many to mention, but here are a few highlights:
“what i heard, and continue to hear, is a voice that can crack religious and political convictions open, that advocates for the least qualified, least official, least likely; that upsets the established order and makes a joke of certainty. it proclaims against reason that the hungry will be fed, that those cast down will be raised up, and that all things, including my own failures, are being made new.” (prologue, xv)
“all of it pointed to a force stronger than the anxious formulas of religion: a radically inclusive love that accompanied people in the most ordinary of actions–eating, drinking, walking–and stayed with them, through fear, even past death. that love meant giving yourself away, embracing outsiders as family, emptying yourself to feed and live for others.” (p. 93)
“you can’t be a Christian by yourself” (p. 119)
“but faith working through love: that could mean plugging away with other people, acting in small ways without the comfort of a big vision or even a lot of realistic hope. it could look more like prayer: opening yourself to uncertainty, accepting your lack of control. it meant taking on concrete tasks in the middle of confusion, without stopping to argue who was the truest believer.” (p. 162)
“i remember what a sad, drunken visitor to the pantry had told me once. ‘thank God,’ he said earnestly, ‘thank God for Jesus. because, you know, he was here like us, so he knows how hard it is to be a person. he must have a sense of humor about us.” (p. 172)
“this is where i found my faith: a faith expressed in a wild conceit that a helpless, low-caste baby could be God. that ugly, contaminated and unimportant people embody holiness. that my own neediness and misfitting, not my goodness or piety, were what God intended to use.” (p. 222)
“they wanted, in fact, church: not the kind where you sit obediently and listen to someone tell you how to behave, but the kind where you discovery responsibility, purpose, meaning. they wanted a church where they could bring their sorrows, their gifts, their entire messy lives: where they could find community.” (p. 214)
which ones resonate with you?
i’ll end with this, a prayer sara miles wrote for her community that is the desire of my heart for our little refuge community, that we’d be bread….
“O God of abundance, you feed us every day.
rise in us now, make us into your bread.
that we may share your gifts with a hungry world,
and join in love with all people, through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (p. 163)
I recently started a new job in downtown Denver. A friend suggested I take the bus. I have been spoiled by my warm cozy music filled drive to and fro so it never occurred to me to take ‘the bus.’ Somehow I felt that taking the bus was a measure of my success…if I had to take the bus I wasn’t doing too well. However after receiving my first paycheck, I realized it was time to give up my pride and start looking at life in reality versus the illusion I had created that I was better somehow. I started to take the bus and it has been a blessing. I’ve met the nicest people, I don’t have to drive on 36 and I-25, I save money on gas and parking, I watch the sunrises and sunsets, I read, listen to music…I gave up my pride and received an amazing blessing!
last sunday, february 8th, we had an evening of reflective stations to wrap up our series on hope. it was a beautiful evening of hope & connecting with God in all kinds of ways. several of the stations had questions about hope. here are some of the collective responses:




I have had the pleasure of sharing my life over the last 2 years with some very special people who have touched my heart and my life in so many ways. As I begin to write I write with them in mind and the tremendous amount of hope that they have given me over these last two years and the courage to finish a race that at times simply seems to daunting and confusing to continue to run. It’s their own stories of hope and love that spurs me on. If you are reading this blog you are most likely one of those people or connected to us in some manner as the Body of Christ, thank you.
this past saturday night at our weekend place of refuge gathering at the grange we facilitated a creative experience to help reflect and dream about this upcoming year. it was a beautiful evening, so many different expressions of hope for the journey. here are some of the questions we used to guide the exercise:








Some time, more than ten years ago I was on a men’s retreat in the Rocky Mountains. This retreat was centered on Holy Communion. About one day into this retreat, I had a very special moment; “… he took the bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him…” During communion I experienced a moment, a moment like a friend called eternity within the flick of a camera’s shutter. I experienced the living Jesus.
but i want to remind everyone, remind myself, that the refuge would have been perfectly fine without this space. you see, the church is always the people, not a building. and people committed to God & each other, no matter where they gather—houses, coffee shops, golf courses, apartment buildings, weird rented spaces—are what create the church, the beautiful, diverse, wild and wonderful body of Christ. the conversations that happen during the week, the phone calls, the emails, the prayers, the tangible help & hope that gets passed on in big & small ways, the neighbors that are loved, the scriptures that are shared, the words of encouragement, the serving, the giving, the learning, the growing, the falling down & getting back up, the grace, the truth, Christ’s love made real—that’s the church.
this is the liturgy we wrote & have been using each week at our sunday gatherings focusing in on the beatitudes & the sermon the mount. as the final line says, may these words sink deeply into our hearts, our lives in ways we never dreamed:
