It’s not often that a book has had such a powerful affect on me like take this bread has. Sara Miles has woven a narrative that is truly “a call to action.” Many thanks to my brother for passing along this book to me over Christmas. If you are looking for some great reading that will, I believe, radically impact how you view Christ incarnate, then read this book!
A couple of excerpts –
Mine is a very personal story of an unexpected and terribly inconvenient Christian conversion, told by a very unlikely convert; a blue-state, secular intellectual; a lesbian; a left-wing journalist with a habit of skepticism. I’m not the person my reporter colleagues ever expected to see exchanging blessings with street-corner evangelists. I’m hardly the person George Bush had in mind to be running a “faith-based charity.” My own family never imagined that I’d wind up preaching the Word of God and serving communion to a hymn-singing flock.
Holy Communion knocked me upside down and forced me to deal with the impossible reality of God. Then, as conversion continued, relentlessly challenged my assumptions about religion and politics and meaning, God forced me to deal with all kinds of other people. In large ways and small, I wrestled with Christianity; its grand promises and its petty demands, its temptations and hypocrisies and promises, its ugly history and often insufferable adherents. Faith for me didn’t provide a set of easy answers or certainties: It raised more questions than I was ever comfortable with. The bits of my past — family, work, war, love — came apart as I stumbled into church, then reassembled, through the works of communion inspired me to do, into a new life centered on feeding strangers: food and bodies, transformed. I would up not in what church people like to call “a community of believers” — which tends to be code for “a like-minded club” — but in something huger and wilder than I had ever expected: the suffering, fractious, and unboundaried body of Christ.
One of my favorites, so far is this excerpt –
Conversion was turning out to be quite far from the greeting-card moment promised by televangelists, when Jesus steps into your life, personally saves you, and becomes your lucky charm forever. Instead, it was socially and politically awkward, as well as profoundly confusing. I wasn’t struck with any sudden conviction that I now understood the “truth.” If anything, I was just crabbier, lonelier, and more destabalized.