The Symposium concluded today, leaving me with a 2 1/2-hour drive home and much to ponder on it, and for time to come (and no doubt a lot to comment on as well). As always, it concluded with a communion service. For some reason, as we celebrated the sacrament, I found myself feeling somewhat detached and disconnected. This was strange—as a pastor, I’m usually the celebrant, and I relish opportunities just to receive—and it concerned me. Was something wrong with me? Was I failing to do my part?
And then, though I wouldn’t say my mind cleared (or my heart, for that matter), I did remember something important: this isn’t my work. The sacrament isn’t something I do, and it isn’t about anything I do; I wouldn’t say that just showing up is enough, or that it doesn’t matter at all how I receive it, but fundamentally, like all of worship, it’s not about me. It’s not about anything I do, and it’s not my own effort or my own piety or my own anything that makes it meaningful, or makes it work. It’s all about God, and what he did in Christ—it’s his table, not mine—and what he did is valid regardless of how I happen to be feeling about it at any given point; however focused or not I might be, however pious or not I might be feeling, what matters is simply that I receive it, and that I do so with gratitude whether I feel that gratitude or not. Repentance is accepting being found.