Category: bread

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Blast From the Past: Taken, Blessed, Broken, Given Part 3

This is part three of a four part series.

As we are able to claim our blessedness, we can then, “face our own and others’ brokenness with open eyes.” Henri Nouwen ends his chapter on blessedness with these words. The next chapter is on the third word that Nouwen found useful in identifying the movements of the Spirit in our lives. That word is broken.

“Broken” is a term that most of us in the church don’t like to hear or think about. We do love hearing about the “broken body of Christ,” because it speaks to us of what Jesus did for us on the cross. We love to hear about the power of sin being broken, even though we sometimes live as if we were still under its sway. What we don’t like to think about is the idea that we have been, are, and will be broken. But, it is true.

We live in a broken world. All anyone needs to do is look around them or watch the evening news. The creation is broken. It is being restored, but it is still broken. Take a look at the folks around us. They are broken people, and much of the heartache and misery in the world is caused by broken people breaking other people. No one escapes being broken. Nouwen puts it this way,

“Instinctively we know that the joy of life comes from the ways in which we live together and that the pain of life comes from the many ways we fail to do that well.”  

I think Nouwen is correct when he states that, just as we claim our chosenness and blessedness, we must claim our brokenness. We must own up the fact that we have been hurt in the past, may be hurt in the present, and will be hurt in the future. That’s part of the job description. After owning up to our brokenness, we then can respond to it. We do that in two ways, by befriending it and by bringing it under the  blessing.

Our first response to our brokenness is to befriend it. That seems counterintuitive to us. Our first, and sometimes only response is usually to run away, to avoid that which is causing us pain and convince ourselves that if we ignore it it will go away. The problem with that approach is that it doesn’t bring healing. I believe that our tendency to run from pain is a contributing factor to some of the mental health problems in society, and to many, if not most of our relationship problems. We are afraid of pain, of heartbreak, of suffering. If we do find the courage to embrace our pain we then find that we have started down the road of healing. Nouwen writes,

“The deep truth is that our human suffering need not be an obstacle to the joy and peace we so desire, but can become, instead, the means to it.”

Everything in our lives, good or bad, joyful or painful, can be part of the path we take to being fully human. This is a hard concept to grasp. We can easily see how the good in our lives brings us to glory, but it’s another thing entirely to see our suffering in the same light.

The second response to suffering is to put it under the blessing. Like the first century disciples who asked Jesus if the man’s blindness was a result of his sin or his parents’, we usually look at suffering as an indication that we’re bad people. There are many voices out there that tell us that if we just do things the right way, or  if we are really God’s child, then we won’t have to suffer. I wonder what the apostle Paul, or the Christians being martyred for their faith today would say to that. Suffering does not necessarily mean that we are bad people. It does not mean that the negative voices in our lives are right. We must listen the voice that calls us beloved children, the voice of our Father. Our brokenness does not cause God to love us any less, it does not cause him to see us in a negative light.

As we live in our blessedness and take our brokenness there and put it in the proper perspective, we find that the burden becomes lighter and the way becomes clearer. We can then see the suffering as a means of  purifying us. Ask a grape vine if pruning is something it enjoys. If the vine could feel and talk, it would tell you that pruning is painful. I mean, how would you like to have a limb hacked off? The vine would also tell you that the suffering of pruning is worth it because it produces the abundant harvest of grapes that allows us to share wine with our friends. Sometimes there are things in our lives that need to be pruned away. While it is a painful process, it is also an indication that our Abba loves us, and is forming us into the people he wants us to be.

As the bread in the Communion, we are taken in order to be blessed. We are blessed so that we can be broken. As the bread cannot be distributed unless it is broken, so with us. We are broken so that we might be given.

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Blast From the Past: Taken, Blessed, Broken Given

This is part 1 of a four part series first published ten years ago.

At the camp I drive for during the summer, we hold a weekly study for the staff. This summer we are looking at Life of the Beloved, by Henri Nouwen. In this book, Nouwen writes about four words that have helped him identify the movements of the Spirit in his life. Nouwen’s idea is that as followers of Jesus we are bread for the world, therefore we are taken, blessed, broken, and given, as the bread during communion. As I read the explanation of these words, I am finding them helpful in my own walk. In this four part series, I am going to share some of  my thoughts.

The first word is taken. You could substitute the word “chosen.” We are chosen by God to be his beloved children. He has become our Father, and he is pleased with his children. As Nouwen states:

“Our preciousness, uniqueness, and individuality are not given to us by those who meet us in clock-time — our brief chronological existence — but by the One who has chosen us with an everlasting love, a love that existed from all eternity and will last through all eternity.”

Unfortunately, we live in a world that tells us that we are nothing, that there is nothing special about us. Those voices bombard us constantly, from advertisements that tell us we must have the latest (fill in the blank) in order to be happy and fulfilled, to preachers who tell us how far short we fall and how much harder we need to work. Those voices do not come from our Father. They come from our Enemy who seeks to steal our joy, kill our spirits, and destroy our lives.

Nouwen gives three ways we can stay in touch with our chosenness. The first is to keep unmasking the world around us for what it is. The world is full of manipulation and destruction. It’s prevailing wisdom is to step on anyone and everyone in the climb up the ladder. When we feel hurt or rejected, we should recognize those feelings, but also recognize that they are not the truth about ourselves. The truth is that the Father loves us with an everlasting love, and has chosen us to be his children.

The second way is to look for people and places where our chosenness is affirmed. These people and places will not be perfect, but as Nouwen writes,

“The limited, sometimes broken, love of those who share our humanity can often point us to the truth of who we are: precious in God’s eyes.” 

We need each other, and we need to affirm in each other the precious, beloved children that we are.

The third way is to celebrate our chosenness constantly. We are to be grateful to the Father for choosing us, and grateful to those who remind us of our chosenness. We need to be careful, because occasions for gratitude can also be occasions for cynicism, for questioning motives, even for bitterness. We must guard against this and consciously choose to be grateful.

 Rather than making us feel superior or more favored, claiming our chosenness will give us a great desire to help others recognize and claim their chosenness, their place as a beloved child of the Father. This is another reason we need to be in community with our brothers and sisters in Christ. We can build up and encourage one another as we gather together as God’s chosen, beloved children.

One final thought from Nouwen:

” It is only when we have claimed our own place in God’s love that we can experience this all-embracing, noncomparing love and feel safe, not only with God, but also with all our brothers and sisters.” 

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Bread and Life

Two weekends ago, Jan and I participated in a forum on food, creativity, and togetherness called A Place at the Table. The event was put on by a group of local artists called Friday Arts Project. We were blessed to be able to help, in a small way, our friends organize and put on this event. A Place at the Table brought together  nationally known speakers such as Molly O’Neill, Peter Reinhart, Tom Hanchett, and local barbeque provocateur Dan Huntley. We experienced a number of thought provoking talks, a film about food and community in New Orleans, and some absolutely fantastic food.

Peter Reinhart is a professor at Johnson & Wales University in Charlotte and is considered an expert on all things bread. On Saturday, he gave a talk on bread. That’s right. Bread. As Reinhart said, all writing about food is about something else, so his talk was about much more than just bread. The talk was titled, “The Leaven Factor: Bread as a Living Symbol of Who We Are as a People.” The theme was bread as a universal symbol of connectedness. I hope my thoughts here do his talk justice.

The word “companion” comes from two root words meaning “with” and “bread,” therefore a companion is “one with whom we break bread.” Breaking bread with a person means that you accept them. It also means that you are willing to share your life with them and make yourself vulnerable. As I wrote in Table As Truth, the masks come off around the table. Sharing food with another takes us out of ourselves, if only for a little while, and allows the other to get a peek behind the curtain.

The way we get bread is a metaphor for life, especially the life of faith. When the grain is ground into flour it dies. That is the first step. In leavened bread, yeast is then added. Yeast is a living thing that brings life to the flour. As the yeast works, the flour is transformed into dough. The dough rises and is kneaded into the shape the baker wants. Then the dough is placed into the oven to be baked. During the baking process there again is death. The yeast is killed by the heat of the oven so the bread can bake without growing anymore.

After the bread has baked, it is then ready to be a source of nourishment. The death in the baking process is necessary in order for the bread to be something that is good to eat. I don’t know too many people that eat dough on a regular basis. It just doesn’t seem to have the same appeal as a warm loaf of bread. Henri Nouwen, in Life of the Beloved, speaks of the bread used in communion and how it is taken, blessed, broken, and given. The bread must be broken before it can be given.

Life as a follower of Jesus is much the same. Jesus said that whoever wants to find their life must first lose it. We must die to our own ambitions, to our own way of living life, in order to be made alive in Christ. I don’t see much in Scripture that tells us to come to Christ so all our problems will be solved, with everything we ever wanted in this life there for the taking. Jesus simply says, “Follow me,” and then lets us know that doing so means we give everything else up. In dying to ourselves, we find that we have true, abundant life. It doesn’t stop there though. The dying process is not a one time thing. Jesus calls us to take up our cross every day. That’s more than just carrying a burden through life. As we go through our our day-to-day, we are called to die to what we want and do what our Lord wants. Like the dough in the oven, we die in order to be something that nourishes others. Like the communion bread, we are broken in order that we might be given. In the process, we are transformed, like the dough, into something that brings life to those who taste and glory to the One who shapes us and “bakes” us.

Let us not despise the grinding of the mill, the heat of the oven, or our brokenness. We can be assured that they are forming Christ within us and indeed making us bread for the world.