Lift Up Your Hearts!

In a traditional communion worship service, the officiant will often say: “Lift up your hearts,” and the congregation responds, “We lift them up to the Lord.” These words hold a beautiful invitation filled with grace. The congregation is invited to bring their hearts with the truth of all its light and darkness, faith and doubt, joy and pains to the Lord. The hearts we offer are lifted up as they are, not how we might wish they were or how we might assume God wants them to be.

When I sit in my church and hear the congregation respond to the invitation to lift up our hearts, I breathe anew the hope in Christ—a hope built on the confession of faith in a mighty God who has the power to transform. It is this God who receives our communal hearts offered in all their messiness. These offered hearts, both individually and communally, are received with delight by our God who is ready to pour the Holy Spirit over and through us, that our hearts might know more love, forgiveness, redemption, and renewal in the ways of Christ. These hearts are received by a God who is not anxious amidst whatever storms we face.

When I sit in my church and hear the congregation respond to the invitation to lift up our hearts, I breath anew the hope in Christ—a hope built on the confession of faith in a mighty God who has power to transform.

For most of us (if not all), there has been a long season of brokenness in our communities, in our world, on social media, in our families, and in our churches. The language and actions of violence and hate seem strong. The witness of the church is harmed by our own internal attacks. We proclaim that we, the Church Universal, share one Spirit, one faith, one hope, and one mission. Yet, we are all deeply aware of divisions that invade our common tables in our homes and churches. This causes us to feel so heavy and hopeless. How do we find our way?

We hear the demanding, grace-filled invitation of the communion table:

Lift up your hearts. We lift them up to the Lord.

I was raised on family stories of significant hurt by the church—stories of struggles to forgive and proclamations to God’s faithfulness. The testimony of these relatives who carried disappointment and grief was that the good news of the Gospel was not diminished by the failings of people. In both Advent and Lent, we name that we are a people who sit in darkness; we need redemption, salvation, and a light that pierces the darkness.

Over the years I have felt the importance of slowing life down and finding new ways of entering these seasons. What I am discovering is that the richness of narrative, language, metaphors, and images provide a landing place for the hard experiences in this journey of Christian faith. A student who had been walking with deep grief over the loss of her mother expressed her deep appreciation for Lent: “It feels like everyone joined me in my darkness. I don’t feel so alone.”

Holy Saturday holds different traditions for the people of God. For most of my life, this day was often filled with rather frantic Easter preparations for our church and family. I rarely paused to ponder the true significance of the day. Lately, I have tried to practice a time of silence, a space where I can carry the great grief over unresolved conflicts or despair where all seems lost. In many ways, I lift my heart to the Lord, practice stillness, and wait. In those and other times of stillness, I try to create a space where I invite God to speak over this heart that has been lifted and received. I keep a pad of paper where I simply write any ruminations, nudges, or thoughts that can seem random, inviting God who receives my heart to have his way in me and through me. Sometimes, what arises is some sense of direction for next steps I might take, and, often, what I receive is the assurance of Christ’s presence and grace that is sufficient for that day.

In this offering of heart, both individually and communally, I am thankful that my hope lies in the God who can bring new life beyond my imagination. I marvel that God gathers these hearts that are offered, blesses them, breaks them in life-giving ways, and pours out grace in us, through us, and between us.

And so, hear the invitation to lift up your heart. And may you know the great hope, for we lift them up to the Lord.

Dr. Mary Rearick Paul, D.Min, is a minister and vice president of student life and formation at Point Loma Nazarene University.