As I’ve told you before, when I was a little boy our annual family vacations always took the same basic form. We’d pile in the family station wagon, drive from our home in Dover, Delaware about 900 miles south to Florence, Alabama where we’d spend ten days with my mom’s family—and then we drive three hours west to Tomnolen, Mississippi where we’d spend the same amount of time with my dad’s family and then we’d drive all the way back to Dover. In short, our annual family vacations were mostly huge road trips!
One of the best parts of those annual vacations was time with cousins. There were twenty-six on my mom’s side—and I was the oldest. This picture is of 19 of the cousins. Seven more were to be born. In any case, on my mom’s side I felt special. After all, I was the first grandchild! But—on my dad’s side, things were different. The cousin crop was smaller. There were only ten of us and I wasn’t the oldest. In fact, my siblings and I were some of the youngest.
Well, as a young boy, I remember admiring two of older my cousins on Dad’s side, Derwood Thompson (Yes his name was Derwood) and Ricky Wood. They were about four or five years older than me and I would follow them everywhere. I just loved hanging with them—when they would let me. I mean, I wanted to be a part of their “big boy” adventures. I wanted to belong in their group—but that almost never happened because they thought of me as a pesky little kid.
I remember one night before we headed for our pallets on the floor—that’s where we grankids slept—on pallets. How many of you have done that? Before we turned in I heard Ricky and Derwood making plans to go fishing in grandad’s pond the next morning. So, I asked if I could go with them. They looked at each other and then Ricky said, “Sure, Mark, you can go with us. But you’ll need to sleep as late as you can because the fish don’t get up until about 10 or 11.”
So, the next morning I stayed in bed as long as I could—and of course by the time I got up Derwood and Ricky were long gone. When I realized I had been tricked—excluded—it really hurt. I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut. How many of you are familiar with that feeling—the hurtful feeling of being left out?
I can’t help but think of the movie Toy Story when Woody felt excluded—left out—when Andy began to favor Buzz Lightyear over him. Maybe some of you younger guys and gals felt excluded—left out—as you moved to a new school this past week. Perhaps this is your first year in middle school or high school and you were made to feel unimportant—not a part of the crowd.
Maybe some of you parents have been excluded at work. Your company got a new contract and you weren’t invited to the table to discuss it. I could cite lots of examples but my point is we all know what it’s like to feel left out—to be excluded—to be made to feel like we’re not wanted.
Now—we expect this kind of behavior from the world—but not the church. Right? I mean the church is supposed to be different than the culture around us. After all, we serve the one true God Who is no respecter of persons—Who loves all people—Who sent His only Son to be: “…the atoning sacrifice not only for our sins but for the sins of the whole world.” (1st John 2:2) Because of all this, as Christians we are to offer a different kind of community than is offered by the world around us. We are to be like God and love all people—we are to relate in ways that show our understanding of the fact that the ground is level at the cross.
I bring this up because, of course, the Christians in Corinth were not acting like a body of believers in this sense. They were excluding certain types of Christians—and the worst thing about it was the fact that the place where this was most seen was when they observed communion. This special meal—this meal that was supposed to reflect REAL communion—the communion of a spiritual family filled with friends who stick closer than a brother—but the way they observed this memorial meal excluded people. Instead of fostering communion—it destroyed it. And Paul wrote to correct this sinful behavior.
Before I read our Scripture let me give you a little context. For the first 300 years of the church, worship services were held in homes. There were no huge structures like we enjoy here at Redland. And as part of worship believers would share a meal in those homes—which I think is cool—because there are not many things that express companionship/friendship/community than a shared meal. This is one reason healthy families eat together around a table whenever possible. There’s something special about that family communal observance.
On our vacation this year all nine members of my family were together: Me, Sue, our three children, our daughter-in-law and son-in-law and two beautiful grandkids. Here’s a picture of our group. Well, whenever we’d sit down to eat and join hands to pray—my heart would just swell. I felt so thankful. It even felt like there was a special glow around that table. There’s something WONDERFULLY SPECIAL about that kind of family gathering. AMEN?
Sharing a meal with family or friends is a wonderful thing. I mean it’s around the table where experiences are shared—its where joys are multiplied and burdens divided. A shared meal is where community is created and sustained. Well, as I said, in the early church worship often began with this shared meal. After they ate they would observe the Lord’s Supper. They would each take a sip from a common cup that was passed around as a way of remembering Jesus’ blood shed for their sins.
They would share a loaf of bread broken into pieces to remember Christ’s body that was broken by the nails and the spear as He hung on the cross—broken so they could be whole. This meal—instituted by Jesus on the night of His arrest—was an intimate gathering that created a sense of belonging and connection to Jesus—while at the same time a sense of belonging a connecting to each other. It celebrated their oneness as a church family—the UNITY of relationship that encouraged them in life. But, as I said, the church in Corinth was getting this all wrong and in the process they were hurting a lot of people. I mean, certain people in the church at Corinth were feeling excluded and left out from this meal that was to draw them all together.
Let me explain what had happened. I said church was held in homes. Well more specifically it was usually held in the homes of the wealthiest church members—which made sense because of course those homes were bigger. They had more room. When you came through the entrance of these big homes you would first enter an atrium and then make your way down a walkway to a dining room which was called a triclinium—where they would gather for this meal. But in Corinth the wealthiest members started coming early and having their own meal before the rest of the church could gather. Since they were wealthy they didn’t have to work as hard as the rest of the church so their schedules were much more flexible. They weren’t punching a clock—they weren’t slaves who had to wait until their masters gave them permission to go to church. So these rich members were gathering in the triclinium early and were opening up the best wines and the best foods—thoroughly enjoying themselves with some amazing appetizers—before the real service began. Then as the other members of the church arrived, like the slaves and the blue collar workers they felt excluded, left out—because the dining room was full. There was no room. And they couldn’t help but notice the left overs of all that good food. I mean a distinction had been made—a division—the poor were forced to sit in the entry area—on the floor while the rich reclined around the table.
In my mind it’s kind of like family gatherings in Alabama when I was forced to sit at the kids table even though I was the oldest. Do you remember that feeling when you were an older child? The adults were enjoying adult conversation—prime rib—baked potatoes—and you were with the children eating grilled cheese and applesauce—drinking Koolaid in plastic cups.
All kidding aside—this division—this distinction—this exclusion—well it hurt feelings—it destroyed church unity in Corinth. And the sad part was it made the church—the people of God—look just like the fallen world around them—-a culture where the wealthy and the educated gathered together and the poor and illiterate were not welcome. You see, in the culture of Corinth a meal was not so much about the food as it was about an opportunity to show special social status. And the LORD’S MEAL—was being used in the same way.
Now—before you wag the finger of blame—remember, there are many times we are like this even today. I mean, we can be very exclusionary.
When we were fighting our way up 95 through traffic jam after traffic jam—heading home from vacation—as soon as possible I pulled into the speed pass lanes—and as we flew by all the people in the bumper to bumper traffic that plagues 95 I couldn’t help but think, “I am so much wiser than those guys. I’m better than them. Why, I’m flying by at 70mph while they sit in the summer heat not moving an inch. They should be as wise as I and get a speed pass.”
And we are all that way at times.
- Have you ever saw a beggar on the street and mentally blamed him or her for their situation?
- Have you ever EXCLUDED them in your mind—putting them LOWER on the social status pole than yourself?
- Have you ever been judgmental about an alcoholic or drug addict who ruined his or her life?
- Have you ever patted yourself on the back for your college education while looking down on someone who didn’t have that blessing in life?
Okay—enough background—take your Bibles and turn to 1st Corinthians 11. Follow along as I read verses 17-33. Paul writes:
17 – In the following directives I have no praise for you, for your meetings do more harm than good.
18 – In the first place, I hear that when you come together as a church, there are divisions among you, and to some extent I believe it.
19 – No doubt there have to be differences among you to show which of you have God’s approval.
20 – So then, when you come together, it is not the Lord’s Supper you eat,
21 – for when you are eating, some of you go ahead with your own private suppers. As a result, one person remains hungry and another gets drunk.
22 – Don’t you have homes to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God by humiliating those who have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I praise you? Certainly not in this matter!
23 – For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night He was betrayed, took bread,
24 – and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, “This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me.”
25 – In the same way, after supper He took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of Me.”
26 – For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes.
27 – So then, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord.
28 – Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink from the cup.
29 – For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves.
30 – That is why many among you are weak and sick, and a number of you have fallen asleep.
31 – But if we were more discerning with regard to ourselves, we would not come under such judgment.
32 – Nevertheless, when we are judged in this way by the Lord, we are being disciplined so that we will not be finally condemned with the world.
33 – So then, my brothers and sisters, when you gather to eat, you should all eat together.
Now—it’s obvious to me that Paul is VERY upset—he’s ticked—because he knows that Christians are supposed to look on each other as equals—as brothers and sisters. When we GATHER—ESPECIALLY when we share Communion—that bond is supposed to be strengthened. But Paul says it was causing so much damage it would be better if they didn’t meet at all. Can you imagine that? And to show you HOW ticked Paul was note that he says, “In the first place” in verse 18 but he’s so man he never gets to “the second place.” Have you ever been that upset? Well, Paul was—for as he says a gathering that is exclusive like the ones in Corinth can’t be classified as the Lord’s Supper. It has nothing to do with the Lord. No—It’s a private supper—a WORLDLY supper.
Well, in verses 23ff Paul lays out the proper pattern for a SUPPER done in memory of Jesus’ sacrifice. He reminds them how to make a supper—the LORD’S supper. He tells them how to observe communion so they would enjoy REAL communion as a church. And as he writes I can still “hear” frustration in his words. Paul says, “For I received from the Lord WHAT I ALSO PASSED ON TO YOU.” In other words—“I’ve already told you this—but here it is again!” I mean, he wanted to REMIND them what he had taught them before—that they were to partake in a way that showed they were EQUALS in God’s sight—a way that reminded them that each person was the same—a sinner loved by God—equally dependent on His amazing grace demonstrated on the cross. In short, he wanted them to do this meal in a way that underscored the one thing that made then UNIFIED—their response to Jesus’ death and resurrection.
I mean, as they passed the bread they were proclaiming the fact that the Jewish believer who had memorized the Torah needed the sinless body of Christ to be offered up for him—just as much as the Gentile slave who was raised in paganism. When the wealthy man took a sip of that common cup of wine that represented the blood of Christ he was affirming the fact that he needed Jesus’ forgiveness for sin—just as much as the former prostitute who had come to faith. They were all in the exact same position.
So, when Paul warns about drinking of the cup in an unworthy manner—yes, he was reminding us to confess our sins—but it was more than that. He was reminding the rich to make room for the poor—for the educated to wait for the illiterate—for the free to wait for slaves—for them ALL to enjoy the Lord’s Supper together as equals. Paul was telling them to remember they were one body—and each was a vital part. The church was to be a place where slaves fellowshipped with their masters—where rich were close friends with the poor—where a former Jewish Pharisee shared a meal with a former prostitute. It was to be an inclusive fellowship—and I’m not talking about the SINFUL inclusivism of our culture where there is no such thing as sin—no I’m talking about the inclusion people feel when they admit they are sinners equally desperate for the unmerited grace of God.
As I studied this week I kept remembering part of Philip Yancey’s little book, Church, Why Bother? I’ve shared it with you before but I feel led to do so again. In the book Yancey tells about the church he attended when he lived in Chicago—the LaSalle Street Church. He describes that church as a VERY diverse group of Christ-followers. The membership included very rich people and very poor people. Some were very educated—others were not. It was very racially diverse. There were young members and elderly members. In other words, it was a GREAT church. Paul would have been proud of the unity they enjoyed in spite of their diversity. Well, Yancey tells about a young man named Adolphus who was a member of LaSalle Street.
He writes, “I learned a great deal from my church’s response to Adolphus, a young black man with a wild, angry look in his eye. Adolphus had spent some time in Vietnam and most likely his troubles started there. He could never hold a job for long—and his fits of rage and craziness sometimes landed him in an asylum. But when possible, Adolphus was a regular attender at LaSalle. If he took his medication on Sunday, he was manageable. Otherwise—well, let’s just say the church could be even more exciting than normal. Adolphus might start at the back and high-hurdle his way over each of the pews all the way down front to the altar. He might raise his hands in the air during a sermon and make obscene gestures…Or…he might wear headphones and listen to rap music INSTEAD of the sermon.
As part of worship our church had a time called ‘Prayers of the people’ when members could pray out loud for something. After that the entire church would say, ‘Lord, hear our prayer.’ Adolphus quickly learned that this could be a platform for him to air his concerns so he’d say things like, ‘Lord, thank You for creating Whitney Houston and her magnificent body!’ After a puzzled pause a few members would chime in weakly, ‘Lord, hear our prayer.’ Regular attenders came to expect the unexpected from Adolphus’ prayers. Once he prayed, ‘that the white honkey pastors of this church would see their houses burn down this week.’ No one replied, ‘Lord hear our prayer’ that time.
Adolphus had already been kicked out of three other churches—but a group of people at LaSalle, including a doctor and a psychiatrist—took on Adolphus as a special project. Every time he had an outburst they lovingly pulled him aside and talked it through—using the word, ‘inappropriate’ a lot.
We learned that Adolphus sometimes walked five miles to attend LaSalle on Sunday because he could not afford the bus fare. Members of the church began to give him rides. Some invited him home for meals. Most Christmases, he spent with our assistant pastor’s family. Once, boasting of his musical talent Adolphus asked to join the praise team. When it was discovered he had no musical talent he was allowed to continue to play only as long as his electric guitar remained unplugged.
The day came when Adolphus asked to join the church. Elders quizzed him on his beliefs, found little by way of encouragement and put him on a kind of probation. They said he could join once he could explain what it meant to be a Christian and when he learned to act appropriately around others. He could continue to attend of course—and everyone treated him like family—but he couldn’t join officially until they knew he was a Christ-follower.
Against all odds, Adolphus’ story has a happy ending—no doubt because of the grace-driven loving, inclusive, actions of the members of LaSalle Street. He calmed down. He started calling on people when he felt the craziness coming on. He even got married. And on the third try, he was finally accepted for church membership.”
Isn’t that a great story! I mean, people long to be a part of a welcoming, loving, INVITING fellowship like that! Well, I don’t want to give you the big head—but Yancey’s description of LaSalle street, remind me of you guys. First, we are a diverse body—in all the ways LaSalle street is. We have members from several races—people from a wide variety of financial status—-we have families with two parents—and single moms doing the work of TWO parents. We have young and old—people with GED’s and people with doctorates—-but in spite of these differences—there is an attitude of inclusion—an understanding that we are equal in God’s eyes.
We value each other here. We are friends that stick closer than a brother. And we don’t have an Adolphus but I’ve seen members of this church put their arms around each other—even around people who can be difficult to love.
And—speaking of our diversity—at our last deacons’ meeting when we divided into small groups to pray—it hit me that my group included me—a believer from Delaware and a believer from Puerto Rico and a believer from Jamaica, and a believer from Haiti. And as I had my head bowed waiting for my turn to pray, I thanked God that each of those men are like brothers to me.
We may be from different places but we are ONE. We’d each to anything to help the other! That’s the way a church is SUPPOSED to be. Speaking of that, as you can see, we are celebrating Communion this morning. And as we do I want to invite all Christians present to partake with us—–because even if you are not a member of this church…If you are a Christian…if you are His, this is Yours.
THE ORDINANCE OF COMMUNION
As we stand now to sing our closing song—I want to invite any who feel led to JOIN our church family to leave your seats and walk forward. Kevin and I will be here—we would LOVE to Welcome you to become a part of Redland. If you are here and are not a Christian—I know that even now God is knocking on your heart’s door. As we just symbolized with this Communion meal—God has made THE way for your sins to be forgiven. He longs to INCLUDE you—to welcome you. Won’t you accept His invitation and put your faith in Jesus? If you do—or if you have questions about that, leave your seat and come talk to me or Kevin. Let’s stand now and respond as God leads.