The Rob BlogIt's Better Over Here.

I just got off an airplane, and I’m sitting in the Charlotte North Carolina Airport thinking about something I just saw.

It was a woman crying.

It’s hard to explain what it was like, but I feel like I need to try. She was leaning against the wall inside the terminal, all by herself, crying. She wasn’t trying to hide it exactly, but she wasn’t broadcasting it either. All around her, people walked by, not noticing because she was crying so quietly. She was older and gracefull looking, the way I picture my grandmother when she was in her 40’s. Her hair was blonde with just a touch of gray, and the bluest eyes, which I could see even though her eyes were full of tears. In one hand, she held a tissue. In the other, she clutched a cell phone.

I stood for a moment, watching her.

Just to her right, was an airline pilot, who was qiuetly watching her also. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

I wonder what happened to make such a beautiful creature so sad. What tragedy? What sorrow?

But for the grace of God, that could be me, or anyone of the beautiful creatures I hold dear. After all, sorrow plays no favorites.

I hope she’s ok. I hope it works out. I hope things become right soon, but for now, she can only cry.

All American Boy - Pictures of Rusty at twilight with the Hipstamatic.

There’s this vision I have.

I’ve had it for several years now.

It’s me, crawling across a rocky, barren desert. The horizon is expansive and there are dark, angry clouds hanging low in the sky. Before me is a line on the ground that stretches as far as the eye can see…

I’m tired. I can’t breathe and my throat is so dry I can’t swallow. My tongue is swollen and my eyes sting from the sweat that keeps streaming down my head. My clothes are torn, and my body is covered in bruises, scrapes and cuts that are bleeding. Every muscle aches, but I continue to crawl…

It seems like I’ll never get to that line, though I know I have to. Something tells me that I’ve lost a lot along the way…my dignity, my pride and a slew of other humanity soaked conventions. So I crawl and crawl…slowly.

Finally, I put my hand on that line.

I don’t really know at first what I’m supposed to do next, and then I feel something. A pair of hands, gently but surely reaching under my chin. Slowly, the hands lift my sweat-soaked head and I find myself staring into the eyes of my savior, Christ Jesus. He is kneeling in front of me. He’s smiling kindly, without a hint of the mischief that I know he’s capable of.

“Look at you,” he says softly.

I began to whimper first. My tongue is so swollen I can barely speak.

“Look at me what?”

“You made it.”

“I made it? I made it where,” I ask.

“To the end.”

He slowly stands me up and I look out across the barren wasteland. Far down the line, I see a few more weary souls crossing the line. There are much fewer people here than I expected. Somehow, I thought Heaven would be full.

Then I realize this isn’t about Heaven.

“Rob. I’m so very proud of you,” He whispers.

It’s about life.

And I begin to sob.

Earlier this week, a friend of mine posted his thoughts on the Evangelical Church and Communion. I found his post thought-provoking, noble and well spoken, though it apparently caused such a fervent response that he was urged by the leadership of his church to take it down. (It’s a shame when the church cannot partake of healthy dialogue regarding the elements of the faith. I happen to believe that even flat-out emotional debate is good from time to time, but maybe that’s just me.)

At some point, an argument was made for using pre-packaged communion elements based on saving the Church money that could be used for other ministries.

Was someone really suggesting that pre-packaged elements are cheaper? Surely not. More convenient, perhaps. Cheaper than bread, juice and reusable cups, (be that glass or metal, chalice or cup) no. That argument is just plain silly.

But, before this conversation goes any further, I think it is worth noting that my friend was commenting on the Evangelical Church as a whole, and the shift he has seen away from the sacrificial elements being taken in a reverent way. This wasn’t an indictment on any one local church, but rather a question of how we, as The Church (I know, there goes Rob on an ecumenical kick again) reverence our most sacred of rituals.

That brings me, of course, to the sacred ritual itself. There is nothing in our Church history that is more sacred and intimate than the taking of communion. Keep in mind that many of your brothers and sisters throughout history gave their lives rather than give up this very thing.

When I think about communion, I tend to try and find something that resonates with me in the same way…. In this case, I liken it to making love. That’s right. Giggle and blush if you must, but that’s the truth.

In a marriage, there is no greater intimate moment than making love to your spouse. It is the pinnacle of togetherness. It is the very physical act of saying, “I love you and I want to be as close to you as I can possibly be.” For the Christian, no ritual comes closer to that kind of commitment than taking the elements.

So, think about your wife for a moment. Do you prefer to make love to her in a cozy bed and breakfast, where the candles are lit and the rose petals have been set up across the room, or do you prefer a rent-by-the-hour motel? I think your wife could answer easily, which matters more to her. Now, you COULD make the argument that the act is the same in both places, right? I mean, either way you are getting it on…

But, one just feels a little more loving than the other, yes? One environment says, “I love you and I want you and you matter to me.” And the other says, “My own physical gratification is most important, and let’s get this over with.”

So, why would we look at communion any differently? Why would we say, “The way we do this doesn’t matter as long as our hearts are right?” It doesn’t make any sense. Of course it matters how and when we take communion!

Would you say, “Making love to my wife is so awesome. I’m only going to make love to her quarterly because otherwise it would lose its specialness.” No way! Because it is special, you want to join with her in it as often as you can, right? Right.

Look, I’m not attacking the local church I attend on Sunday mornings. I love it there, and I believe in the Church and her leadership. I’m amazed by the compassion and heart of the pastor and the people. What I am saying is that like anything else, it is healthy to reexamine what we do and why we do it from time to time and make changes that are in line with what we believe. In this case, we have a very excellent record in scripture as to how communion was received. There is no need to stray in the name of convenience.

What my friend wrote resonated deep within me, and it made me joyful, not angry or bitter to know that people still care about our sacred rituals.

Communion is special in my opinion, and I love it enough to do it often and right.

Time Machine

Well the other day, The Slinky and I ended up in a Pizza hut. The experience was absolutley horrible for several reasons, but it did spawn an interesting conversation about going out to eat when we were kids.

Now, I don’t know if this is the case with other places across the country, but in the Midwest (or with us, specifically Northwest Indiana) it used to be downright swanky to go out with yoru family to eat at Pizza Hut. Somewhere along the line, we became a deidedly more delivery society, and the days of dining in for pizza ended.

Many of you are aware that I set an annual budget this year. One of the things we are trying to do is not to eat out as much. As a family, we are eating out once a week, which actually makes it a little more fun. This past Friday, we chose Pizza Hut, and here’s the deal…

IT

WAS

AWESOME

That’s right. It was EXACTLY like I remember it. Eating in the joint while other families sat around. A group of grade school girls crowded around the jukebox, playing Madonna tunes and dancing. (we even had the pleasure of meeting, in person, the esteemable Mike McMullin)

Our pizza was hot and excellent. You can’t even compare delivery pizza to eating in.

In short, it was as if I had taken a time machine back to the year 1990.