articulates our United Methodist theology of grace in beautiful and challenging ways. It is easy for me to explain to a congregation that all are invited to partake in Holy Communion. It is different for the gathered body of Christ to all pro- claim in song “For just and unjust, a place at the table, abuser, abused, with need to forgive ...” To sing this when I have been


working with local law enforce- ment to be gracefully and safely in ministry with both the abuser and abused teaches me more about the depth and breadth of the grace we are all – as in all – invited to receive at the table. To remember that the just and the abused have need to forgive keeps me mind- ful of the reality that we are truly equal at the communion table. It is not a matter of even the abus- ers and undesirables being invited to join the worthy, respectable folks who have earned a place at the table. No one is more deserv- ing than anyone else. The idea of earning one’s way to the commu- nion table is irrelevant. None of us deserves it, yet every single child of God is welcome by virtue of be- ing born. (In fact, being born once is sufficient.)


A source of hope Another reason I cling to this


__________________________________________________________________________________________________ January-February 2018 • WorshipArts • www.UMFellowship.org


song is because of the hope that it gives me. For several years I have spent some time every week of the legislative session standing on the steps of the capitol. There with a group of other clergy and laity, I pray in silence for equal rights for LGBTQ+ persons. In that silence, sometimes my toes are tapping the meter of “For Everyone Born” as I sing it over and over again in my mind. Other days I belt it out in the car as I drive to and from legis- lative hearings. My limited experi- ence in seeking to change systems says that things move excruciat-


create justice, but I seek to create


space for God’s justice to flourish within human structures. Seeking that justice sometimes has a high price. I cannot relate to the saints and martyrs who die for the causes to which they are called. The sac- rifices that I make for justice seem miniscule in the grand scheme of


15


5


ways to challenge others to justice and joy in worship:


1. Invite an articulate local law enforcement officer to dialog with the pastor in a sermon on the challenges of gracefully and safely ministering to both abuser and abused.


2. Remind all that open communion means every single child of God is welcome by virtue of being born.


3. Using a dining room table with china, silver, and crystal as a place setting with candelabra as a central visual, challenge worshipers to create their own open table at home, welcoming those outside of their comfort zone.


4. Ask the congregation to give of themselves for justice, and provide a list of ways to put it into action in the coming week.


5. Include testimonials, spoken or written, in subsequent worship services, of action taken.


ingly slow, and the work is terribly frustrating. (This experience, by the way, comes from my position of considerable privilege. I cannot imagine how painful it is to those who are subjected to injustices.) I keep doing it because I believe it is the right thing to do. I find the energy to keep doing this work, in part, from this hymn.


Bringing God delight Lyrics that make the grace of


Holy Communion more real and down to earth for me also provide excellent theology beyond the sacrament: We need to seek justice because God delights in this work. I don’t recall consider-


ing “God’s delight” prior to this song. Delight brings to my mind the sound of an infant’s giggle, a toddler’s bouncing joy, the kind of happiness that cannot be described in words alone. To think that my efforts to answer God’s call to do justice might bring God some sim- ilar delight overwhelms me with joy. It encourages me like nothing else – even more than believing I am doing the right thing or seek- ing to speak up for those who are being silenced. I don’t know that I ever


What if every table where bread (or


tortillas or injera or ...) is broken was to be an open table?


Serving communion at Kuna United Methodist Church, Kuna, ID.


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