Week 2 | The Great Communion | Pre-Conference Devotionals
After I graduated from college, I started my first big-kid job at a large, well-known corporation. I, like so many young interns, spent the majority of my time trying not to fail at very simple tasks. My fear about my own perceived ineptitude was further exacerbated by a corporate training event that I was asked to work a few months after taking the job. Myself and 50 of the most influential employees in the company went to a 5-star restaurant for a private food and wine pairing event (clearly a necessary training expenditure), and there a speaker was asked to give a presentation on networking.
The speaker went from table to table and eventually sat down at mine. I was 3 spoonfuls deep into a creme brûlée, desperately hoping she would ignore my introverted self, when her head swiveled in my direction. I don’t remember what questions she asked, but what I will always remember is what happened next.
She walked onstage and said, “Some of you are lovely conversationalists. Your Communications Director is so easy to talk to and makes you feel SO good about yourself. Now your intern Lauren...” All 50 chairs in the restaurant made a horrifying sound as they turned to face me. “‘Lauren is hard to talk to. I asked her questions, but she gave me short, yes or no responses. That’s not how we network! Today we will be talking about the “Fine Art of Small Talk...’”
I felt humiliated in front of so many confident and successful people. As an intern, I already felt like I didn’t deserve to be there, but that experience made me want to melt through the floor. Those brief comments from the stage reinforced in my mind the idea that I had nothing to offer and no legitimate reason to be in the company of such impressive people. It stuck with me for years.
We tend to idolize the glamorous, the powerful, and the prestigious. We so desperately want to be accepted by those who are “important” and we strive to be those “important” people. This isn’t new and it was equally true in antiquity, especially in Greco-Roman culture where every facet of civic life had an inherent hierarchy. The Ceaser, the highest role in all of Roman society, was considered to be the Son of God by those in the empire. That title should ring a bell for Christians, but there are stark differences between the “Son of God” in Christianity and the “Son of God” within the context of Roman imperialism. Jesus’ first miracle may have been turning water to wine, but a love for what I assume was a great Mer- lot is likely where the similarities between the two end. Jesus wasn’t particularly interested in any kind of pomp and circumstance. He wasn’t the type to throw Himself a parade or talk Himself up at cocktail parties.
The Church has historically had a short memory of Jesus’ better characteristics and the young Corin- thian congregation was no different. The early church was almost as bad as the Romans when it came to putting people and status on a pedestal. The church in Corinth had a particularly bad habit of prior- itizing certain spiritual gifts as “better” or “more important” than others. The young church had a lot of differences to work out among themselves and in 1 Corinthians 12:17-23, Paul tells the Corinthians that God made them completely different on purpose. Not as a fluke, not as a beta test of what could be, but because God wanted it that way. Paul goes on to invert the spiritual pecking order in verse 22, “On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable...”
For those of us who were raised in Christianity, we may have heard from the pulpit how each of us, no matter our giftings, talents or social status, are important and indispensable. It’s a nice theory, but do we really believe it? More importantly, do we live like it is true? What makes our LGBTQ+ community so beautiful is the remarkable level of diversity between all the letters of our beloved acronym. We have so many things in common, and at the same time, we have so much that is different.
St. Teresa of Avila said, “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which He looks with compassion on this world.” Like the church in Corinth, we are a community working out a variety of differences the best we know how. Each part of the LGBTQ+ body has so much to offer and sometimes we fail to recognize it. We have so much to learn from those on the margins of our big, queer Christian community, and we can find beautiful glimpses of God in those whose identities and beliefs differ from our own if we choose to look.
No matter how small your Instagram following is or how lowly of an intern on the corporate totem pole you may be, you are the hands and feet of Jesus. You are the eyes through which He looks with com- passion on this world. Go today believing that you have something remarkable to offer to your community and your Creator.
When have you been made to feel like you had nothing to offer? Do you feel that you do have something valuable to offer to your community and Creator?
What are the gifts and talents that are unique to you? If you can’t think of any, ask a friend, partner or family member.
In what ways have you seen God or others affirm your offering? In what ways does it feel God or others have not affirmed your offering?
When have you struggled to see the value of another person’s offering? Is it limited to individuals or entire groups of people?
Identify areas in your life where you need to extend compassion to yourself or others.
