AfterWords | Let Mutual Affection Continue

A short read
by Laura Boggs

“We cannot love God unless we love each other, and to love we must know each other. We know Him in the breaking of bread, and we know each other in the breaking of bread, and we are not alone anymore. Heaven is a banquet and life is a banquet, too, even with a crust, where there is companionship.”
― Dorothy Day

As I write, today the calendar flips to September. Now, by no account has fall arrived—sweat and cicadas persist. Still, September feels like a promise.

I think of impending autumn (and actual autumn) as story arc: a sweet, slow walk to Christmas. A plot’s rising action is generally marked by increasing tension and conflict. But, in my mind, during this seasonal plot rise, the protagonist is falling in love, worlds are being built, things are moving toward a crescendo.

In other words, I like this time of year.

I also like that house churches are reconvening. On Sunday, some 200 of us kicked off the new season with a picnic. Witnessed: the longest pot-luck line on Parish record, liturgy half-shouted above playground glee, and polite competition for seats in the shade.

And so much mac and cheese.

We have not gathered monthly in homes since April. But we’re back—and bigger than ever, with 140 families signed up for 17 house churches—come September’s fourth Sunday. The advent of a calendar within the church calendar within the Church calendar.

The rise.

What to expect? Too many drinks and not enough dessert—or vice versa. Prayer circles where you wonder who is going to close this thing down. Kids abandoning coloring books for high adventure. Crumbs on the kitchen floor.

So many crumbs.

Also: Flashes of What, you too? That one perfect mac and cheese. A holy hush as Communion wafers and wine are passed from sectional to folding chair to standing room only.

God is moving just ahead of us, preparing the table.

We know there are no guarantees, save the certainty that things will not always go to plan. We will make messes, literally and figuratively. Nonetheless, our hopes can’t help but run high.

As house church members, we come bearing diaper bags and life updates and chicken tenders. We come not as consumers, but as co-laborers. We come looking for connection. We come looking for Christ to play in the features of faces.

As hosts, we make strong coffee. Scrounge for serving spoons. Run out the driveway as cars pull in—You’re here! Can I help you carry that? Stand on the porch and wave with both hands as folks drive away. Until next time! Until He brings you back rejoicing, once again into our doors…

May God go before us, leading us into whispers of further feasts.