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- Written by: Don Goulding
For by grace you are saved through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so that no one can boast. (Ephesians 2:8, 9)
Dani and I rested with other missionaries (my sister and brother-in-law) in endless blue Greece—blue flags, bluer skies, bluer still sea. On the island of Santorini, there are three ways to ascend from the port to the chalk-white cliff dwellings. One can trudge up hundreds of steps, ride on the back of a traditional donkey, or sit in an aerial tram.
In the honeycomb of Fira, the town at the top, we found orthodox chapels so close together you could practically hold your breath for the time it took to run from one to the next. But on Sunday, we couldn’t locate a church open for worship. I wondered at the purpose of so many sanctuaries, which led me to question the way I, and those before me, have approached God.
Many of us try to climb the stairs to God in our own strength. My every step up is motivated by how I can impress the Almighty, and thereby wheedle my way into heaven. The problem with this logic is that it’s impossible for a creature with the least taint of sin to earn access to a fiercely holy God.
Others of us try to ride on the back of tradition. We think that if we pray in the right locations, and use proven liturgy, then God will sweep us into his bosom along with the throngs before us. But Jesus rebuked those with spiritual form and no real substance.
That leaves only one way up. I must entrust myself to the tram of grace. On the strong cable of Jesus’s sacrifice I risk all my weight. I may fill the tram with acts of gratitude, but they don’t lift one ounce from the burden of salvation. I must rest in grace alone, while the vastness of impossible perfection, and the vanity of hollow religion pass below.
Jesus is the only name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved. There’s only one way up.
Prayer: Messiah, you are my only power unto salvation.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
For this reason, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord. A person should examine himself first, and in this way let him eat the bread and drink of the cup. For the one who eats and drinks without careful regard for the body eats and drinks judgment against himself. (1 Corinthians 11:27-29)
The bread is at my mouth, and the cup of the vine will follow. Before I take these symbols into myself, I want to remember why we do this. The cloud in my mind won’t solidify, but phrases waft past.
“Examine himself … unworthy manner … guilty of sinning.”
The smoke thickens.
I examine myself. A harsh reply to my wife, carnal thoughts, ingratitude. I’m unworthy. Can I hide from the cup?
The mist shifts and the words clear up.
“Whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup … in an unworthy manner.”
We’re all unworthy. So it’s the manner in which I take communion that can condemn me.
More words take shape, “Careful regard for the body of the Lord.”
There in the cloud, I see Jesus, crucified. His face is twisted in agony, and blood runs from his gaping wounds.
I must acknowledge Jesus, my Lord, beaten and dead because of my unworthiness. Failure to recognize what my sin cost the King of the Universe, is to eat and drink in an unworthy manner.
The Darling of Heaven, the Perfect One, has subjected himself to an errant flea. He has raised that flea to a status beyond angels. Am I worthy of his sacrifice? No. Can I acknowledge the horrible cost in a manner of reverence? Yes.
The smoke grows dense and spiced. It becomes the incense of awe in the Holy of Holies in my heart.
In my left hand is bread, in the right is wine. As the warm haze swirls through me, I desperately push the body and blood of Christ into my mouth.
Prayer: Dear Jesus, your body and blood are what I need above all things.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But be filled by the Spirit, speaking to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, singing and making music in your hearts to the Lord … (Ephesians 5:19, 20)
I had to choose. Pakistani Christians jumped and waved to the rhythm of a pump organ and tiny brass cymbals. I could watch the persecuted believers as an outsider, or join as a fellow heir of Christ. I overcame my inhibitions, slipped into the revelry, and whirled before the Lord with my brothers and sisters.
High on the Amazon headwaters, Christian leaders guided their canoes to a sleepy village for a pastors’ conference. The joy of coming together erupted in Spanish worship of Jesús, as bright guitar notes blended with the airy tones of a zampoña flute.
While serving in the Sichuan province, God gave unmusical me the lyrics to a song. I collaborated with a Chinese musician to create a hymn that spread through the underground churches. The Mandarin words for, “God, your love is all around me. God, you are all I’ll ever need,” rose on long high notes, then resolved on a heart confirming crescendo.
There’s a mysterious connection between music and the Spirit of God. Both engage parts of our being we can’t understand, and both unify our hearts in joy. Combine music with the Spirit and we abandon ourselves in worship with heart, mind, soul, and strength.
When I self-consciously analyze other singers, I get out of sync. I have to close out the world, let my body find the beat, then move in unity to the music around me.
The same is true with the Holy Spirit. Only when I ignore human agendas, including my own, and follow his rhythm, do I find the harmonious life God intended.
I can sit on the sidelines and count out the steps of religion, or I can jump in and move with the Spirit of grace. Watch or join—I have to choose.
Prayer: Holy Paraclete (Advocate/Helper), let me dance with you today.