My husband and I gave in to the rain last weekend and dug about in our house, cleaning out closets and re-organizing the office. I found lots of long-forgotten items. Like a play I wrote when I was 15, pictures of kids loved and lost, and a note from my old friend Renee, gone to Jesus now.

And this. Written in my friend Katharine's hand on the back of a church bulletin. Because she read it and she knew. It is us.

Imagine a ragtag collection of surrendered and transformed people who love God and others. They are mesmerized by the idea that this is not about them, but all about Jesus. They are transfixed by His story and His heart for their city.

They are seed-throwers and fire-starters, hope peddlers and grace-givers, risk-takers and dreamers, young and old. They link arms with anyone who tells the story of Jesus. They empower the poor, strengthen the weak, embrace the outcast, seek the lost. They serve together, play together, worship together, live life together. Their city will change because God sent them.

They are us.

We believe that small things done with great love will change the world.

-Vision statement of Vineyard Community Church of Cincinnati.

Last night Brad and I went to a Maundy Thursday service, and it was nice and all. Being in a place to try to focus all my thoughts and prayers on what happened the night that Jesus knelt down before His closest followers and washed their feet. And then sat with them and shared His heart and prepared them for the future. All amazing and beautiful things to think about.

As usual (for me) it was hard to stay focused in the church atmosphere. Marching in a line to get the little bread pieces and grape juice always feels wrong somehow. My Bible's translation says that Jesus said this:

"You've no idea how much I have looked forward to eating this Passover meal with you before I enter my time of suffering. It's the last one I'll eat until we all eat it together in the kingdom of God."

I like that.

Donald Miller wrote this (it is how I feel but he says it way better):

I confess that at times I have thought of Communion as a religious pill a person takes in order to check it off his list, and that the pill is best taken under the sedation of heavy mood music, or silence.

How odd it would seem to have been one of the members of the early church, shepherded by Paul or Peter, and to come forward a thousand years to see people standing in a line or sitting quietly in a large building that looked like a schoolroom or movie theater, to take Communion. How different it would seem from the way they did it, sitting around somebody's living room table, grabbing a hunk of bread and holding their own glass of wine, exchanging stories about Christ, perhaps laughing, perhaps crying, consoling each other, telling one another that the person who had exploded into their hearts was indeed the Son of God, their bridegroom, come to tell them who they were, come to mend the broken relationship, come to marry them in a spiritual union more beautiful, more intimate than anything they could know on earth.

And so there I was last night. The oppressive music, the audience-like structure, the struggle to be there... and yet. It always happens. When I face whomever it is that is standing there in front of me, balancing a little silver tray of bread pieces, and then the person clutching a big glass of grape juice floating with crumbs, and I hear them say the words: "This is the cup of His blood, poured out for you..." something happens. There is a clutch in my throat, and a leap in my gut, and somehow Jesus has made it through all the stiffness, and the ceremony, and it is just He and I.

And I shuffle back to my seat, and I hold the moment in my heart. And then I thank Him. For once again He has met me there, in the most unlikely of places.

Don't Forget Your Vegetables

In our Girls Only group I'm trying very hard to make the Bible come alive, or be user-friendly, or what ever phrase you want to use that means 'We like this and it makes Jesus real to us.' I've sort of been struggling with the whole thing and have become a bit frustrated, to tell you the truth.

Last week I read aloud a virtual story that I wrote about the woman who touched the hem of Jesus' garment. By 'virtual story' I mean that I tried to put the listener right into the story by describing the sensations of being there. In other words I said things like this:

There is dust under your feet and it is settling across the top of your toes. For a while it is quiet and you can hear the sound of your shoes as they hit the ground. Then the sound of the crowd in the distance begins to get a bit louder.You keep walking, and soon you reach the edge of the crowd. You still can't see Him.

I spent a good deal of time--several hours even--writing this story out. I tried really hard to make the reading of it captivating. And it went over fairly well. The girls listened and asked a few questions and it was pretty good.

Tonight I tried something else. And you might think it sounds silly, seeing as how they are teenagers and all, but I showed them a Veggie Tales video. The story of Esther.

And guess what? They loved it. They were full of questions and they really understood the story. I simply followed it up with some explanations and drew parallels with the actual Bible story and talked about how it all might apply to them. It was hugely successful as far as my goal of bringing the story alive.

Prep time: about half an hour.

So yeah. You just never know what God will use and how He will use it. I've just got to trust. The battle is not mine.

The battle is not ours.
We look to God above
for He will guide us safely through
and guard us with His love.

So do not be afraid.
We need not run and hide
for there is nothing we can't do
when God is at our side. --Queen Esther the zucchini