It is a fundamental New Testament principle that for a church to function properly, every member has a role to fulfill. For a period of time when we were a part of a group of believers calling ourselves, “Bread Fellowship,” I had several responsibilities, not the least of which was to provide the bread for our weekly communion observance. During our history, we tried several different approaches, but it seems the one that worked the best was for me to simply bring a small loaf of bread.
I am not unfamiliar with the workings of the Lord’s Supper. When I was a young child after our church observed the Supper, my sister and I would finish off the juice and bread that was leftover. I’m sure we were allowed to do this because my mother has never thrown away anything in her life. We always considered it a treat to be able to recreate the event before being hustled off to bed on Sunday night. I will confess now that I always hoped for a small crowd at church since that meant more leftovers for us later.
Early in ministry, it was necessary for me to begin developing a theology of the Lord’s Supper. I grew up in Colorado where my father had been a tenured pastor and a highly influential patriarch in the denomination. After graduating from college in Texas, I enrolled in seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. The expectation was that upon completion I would return to Colorado to serve as a pastor. Daddy was in a position to make that happen.
As seminary graduation approached, Daddy called and asked if I wanted to pastor a church in Colorado. After assuring him that was my plan, he mailed an information form that he would share with some available churches, and everything would be smooth. In addition to personal information, the form asked for my opinion on two issues—Baptism and the Lord’s Supper.
I knew that my position on the Lord’s Supper differed from my father, but he had also taught me to stand up for what I believed. I did and mailed it back to him. Since I was writing papers and reading textbooks, I didn’t give the information form much thought until it came back to me via the mail, along with a handwritten letter from my Dad. He asked me to change my answers to the two questions, and he would find a church for me. When I tell this story, people think I should have been surprised or offended or perhaps even insulted, but I wasn’t. Not only did Daddy teach me to stand up for what I believed, but he also taught me to expect the same from him. After I told him I couldn’t change my answers my fate was sealed. I never did serve a church in Colorado. The good news is that neither Daddy nor I had a problem with the interaction. Our relationship was not affected.
Instead, my incorrect Lord’s Supper theology led me to the Texas panhandle where I held the position of pastor for thirteen years. Being the pastor of the same church for thirteen years, I organized the Lord’s Supper in every way imaginable to avoid falling into a meaningless routine. One of the most memorable times was provided by an unexpected source. We had a young mother, Rosalinda, who gave her life to Jesus one evening in her home. She and her children began attending church every week, always sitting on the front row. She was growing in her faith every Sunday.