When Communion Is No Longer An Option

Traditions are important to the Dean and Johnson family. We are known to celebrate for any reason we can create! But Christmas is always a special celebration. On Christmas Eve, you will always find my family with Mom and Dad at the First Baptist Church Christmas Eve Service. It is a special time when I get to go to my home church, reunite with special friends, and most importantly, celebrate the birth of Jesus through a spiritual service and communion.

It is common knowledge that Dad is now on a feeding tube. He considered staying at home, but we encouraged him to attend with us. We entered the church and took our position on the back row of the bottom level. The service began, as did the struggles.

We stood for the singing of the hymn. The Baptist Rabbi did not have the energy to stand, so Mallory sat with him and held the bulletin. After the Christmas message, it is tradition for all participants to light a candle and sing a hymn by candlelight. Once again, Dad was was unable to hold the candle due to the un-welcomed shaking of Parkinson's. Mallory held the candle for him so that he could participate. My sweet Mom had her fair share of issues too as she attempted to maneuver the portions of the service. Drew took his job seriously to ensure that she did not fall and could get up and down successfully.

The service always ends with communion. The congregation silently walked to the front of the sanctuary to receive the elements of bread and juice - signifying the flesh and blood of Christ. Communion is one of the most spiritual acts of worship. As always, I pushed Dad to join us as we made our way to the front of the sanctuary. He shook his head no. I encouraged him again - followed by a second no. As I demand the third time, reality slapped me in the face. It was not that he didn't want to go....he couldn't go. Doctors orders - no food or liquid by mouth. He was what they call NPO. Parkinson's had stripped him of his ability to participate in the act of communion.

He motioned for us to continue our way toward the deacons holding the elements. As we stood in line, I looked back at the strongest man I know. This man of steel had led this same church for almost a quarter of a century. He had blessed the elements and served communion for almost half a century in a variety of places. He had served the Lord faithfully for almost seventy-five years! And now a neurological disorder had robbed him of his ability to take communion. The Baptist Rabbi sat alone, on the back pew, with tears streaming down his face.

Fighting back my own tears of sadness, anger, hurt, and fear, I witnessed a remarkable thing happen. As individuals finished communion, they made their way to Dad. Blessings, hope, and love overflowed on the back row. As we left, several special friends specifically made their way to Mom and Dad to offer them a Christmas blessing. Dad and Mom left the service with their hearts filled.

As Christmas Eve turned to Christmas Day, I was still reflecting on the events of the night. It is true that the Baptist Rabbi was unable to partake in the official elements of communion. However, communion found its way to the back pew of the church and even followed us outside the church walls. The people showed the flesh and blood of Christ through their hugs, words of encouragement, and prayers. Dad could not go to communion, so God brought communion to my Dad through some amazing people. And it was a beautiful thing.

We don't have to go to God. God comes to us.....in all situations and places. Our personal circumstances change, but God does not. He is constant and faithful to those who believe. He meets us in our personal reality or condition and shows us His flesh and blood in a variety of ways - oftentimes through the acts of people. I learned an important lesson on that Christmas Eve. In taking communion and remembering the flesh and blood of Christ, we are called to turn those elements into acts of love, compassion, and hope to others. I am thankful that God can be found everywhere, even on the back pew. I am thankful that when life robs us of our joy, God is there. I am thankful that when communion is not physically possible, God still finds a way to let us know that he is there, fighting for us and with us. Communion may not be an option for some, but God's flesh and blood will never leave our side. Thanks be to God.

Update of Baptist Rabbi: Dad went back for his follow-up swallow test. It did not go as well as we had hoped. The swallow therapy has not shown improvement with his swallowing. It appears as if the feeding tube is a permanent reality, at least for now. He is going to continue with 2 additional types of therapy to see if progress can be made. With this bad news, he has been unusually optimistic. He has put on some weight, he feels strong, and he is ready to begin socializing with his friends. He is still as sharp as ever! I am confident that his attitude has a great deal to do with the community of support that continue to show the flesh and blood of Christ through their acts of kindness and love. From a daughter who loves her Mom and Dad very much, I thank each of you for loving them with me.

Letting Go

There is no better place to grow up than in Clinton, TN. We lived in a fabulous neighborhood on the corner of Redbud and Riverbend. We lived at the bottom of a hill, had a wide driveway, and a large, flat, front yard. This made for a perfect training ground for learning to ride a bike.

Dad decided it was time for me to learn how to ride my bike without training wheels. He patiently took me to the training ground, which began in the middle of Redbud hill, continued through a diagonal portion of the driveway,  and ended on soft grass in the front yard for a smooth stop. For those of you who know me well, I am NOT an adrenaline junky! I am a fairly "safe" person who likes to stay within my bounds. Dad gave me a few attempts with his support, and then he dropped the ball. He said, "This time I am letting go." I responded with statements of begging, lots of tears, and even dropped the, "If you loved me, you wouldn't let go...." statement. However, before I had time to finish my temper tantrum, Dad had taken me to the beginning of the training course, pushed me, and let go. He sat back to see the effects of his decision. He watched the screams of terror and the tears of frustration continue.......as my legs peddled hard and I rode my bike successfully for the first time! A temporary moment of me feeling my Dad had let me go too early resulted in a monumental accomplishment in my childhood. He knew when to let go.

Letting go is an important concept that my Dad taught me. Dad and Mom taught me the difference between assisting and enabling.

• You meet a variety of people throughout life. Some will enhance and others will distract, disappoint, and destroy. Just because we are Christians, God does not call us to stay in relationships that are damaging. We have the free will to shape how we allow people to treat us. We must forgive, but we don't have to enter back into the same type of relationship that we had previously. We can let go.
• We make decisions in life according to the best information we are given. Sometimes, we make the right choices, and sometimes we don't. However, when the decision is made, make the best of it. Keep moving forward. Don't focus on the past. Let it go.
• As Christians, we are called to help those who are in need (family, friends, neighbors, strangers, etc.). We are called to assist finding long lasting resources that will sustain. However, don't get sucked in to the point that your efforts to assist have only enabled. When your efforts have moved to the enabling realm, let go. 
• Raise your children to be independent and strong. Teach them to think for themselves and to seek their own personal dreams. Raise them to be in control of their actions and relationships. Continue to assist and advise, however, there is a time to let them go.

Dad will admit that letting go of the bike that day was not easy. It was not easy for him to hear my screams of terror and questioning of his love for me. Tough love is not easy. But that one moment of pain and uncomfortableness allowed me to learn a new life skill and increased my self confidence. His willingness to "let go" gave me a new sense of freedom and independence. He could have continued to enable me by holding on to the handle bars. While that would have given me a temporary sense of satisfaction, it would not have pushed me to the place I needed to be.

As we enter this new year, may God give us the wisdom to know the things that we need to cling to and the things that we need to let go of in order to continue on a healthy journey of life. May we all learn to discern the difference between assisting, forgiving, and letting go, and may we adhere to the appropriate time for each. Let us be willing to go through scary periods of letting go so we can fully experience God's freedom. God Bless us all in 2016.

Update of Baptist Rabbi and Wife: This blog entry finds my sweet Daddy getting stronger each day at home, learning to adjust to his feeding tube, and continuing to share his fabulous wisdom with those around him. He goes for a follow up swallow test in the next few weeks, and we hope to see some improvement. Mom has tackled her new role as caregiver with courage, strength, and determination. I am so proud of both of them!