Crumbs

"We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy table, but thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy."

The title for this publication occurred to me whilst staring at the pile of pulverized Cheerio crumbs that sits on the floor of my living room, directly beneath the joint where the pieces of my sectional couch connect. I don’t vacuum nearly as often as I should, certainly not enough to keep up with the pace with which my daughter can conjure up crumbs of all sorts. They are constant in my life, as mother to a toddler and a parish priest. Crumbs of mashed arrowroot biscuit affix themselves to my socks. Crumbs of the body of Christ cling to the tips of my fingers after I elevate and break the host. One kind of crumb annoys me and inflames my insecurity as a mother. The other kind stirs up care and consideration, they are to be reverently consumed while I perform ablutions. Sorting out the crumbs comprises more of my responsibilities in life and worship than I had ever imagined. My twin vocations are more alike than seminary had led me to believe.

Wanting to reflect something of my Anglican-ness in the nature of this blog, I turned, as I often do when in need of inspiration, to the Book of Common Prayer. The Prayer of Humble Access, maligned by some and central to others, reaffirmed the importance of crumbs. I am not worthy to receive the crumbs of grace and love but it is the Lord’s character to always have mercy. There are lot of power in that but. Power that is missed when we fixate on the possibility that we are indeed unworthy. Jesus Christ, the Son of the Living God, the Divine Logos, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity bestows far more than mere crumbs, but gives Himself; the true Bread of Life. That is what heals my sickness, restores my soul, and makes me worthy. Not my own strength or striving. If there’s one thing that the Holy Spirit has illumined for me is the awareness of how acutely I rely on Her presence within me to get literally anything done.

Since the fourth grade, writing has always been my preferred creative outlet (shoutout to Miss Grosse for kindling this passion). It’s simply the best way for me to organize, process, and communicate my opinions, thoughts and feelings. And boy do I have a lot of those. As I watch and absorb the sickening news cycle, rapid degradation of decency, and overall cultural drift of the unfolding decade, I feel desperate for crumbs of hope and goodness, of God’s presence in an ugly, vicious, sin-marred world. So that’s what this Substack will be. Gathering up the crumbs. Contemplating the activity of God in the unexpected and unlovely. Theologizing secularity and meditating on mission in the 21st century. A smattering of my Huron Church News column here, a sermon transcript there. The crumbs of my life and of insight, dusted up and reorganized into something comprehensible and maybe even hopeful.