We enjoyed a wonderful dinner and evening of conversation with some new friends last night. We were invited over to their home to eat. They live in a rustic old home tucked away in the gorgeous part of Virginia called Bent Mountain.
As we gathered to eat, we encircled the table and held hands for prayer. Between our four kids and their four kids, we made a huge circle. Before praying, Mr. Webb looked at each of us with a warm expression, and said "May the Lord be with you." To which all the members of his family replied in union, "And also with you."
Everyone in my family looked at each with the same expression. You know the one. The quizzical look, as if to say, "were we just supposed to do something?" It is that feeling you have when you visit a new church and you don't quite know the routine – when to stand, which version of the Apostle's creed they recite, are you supposed to rise after the offering, do they automatically sing the Gloria Patri and so forth.
We then bowed and joined in prayer – returning thanks for the meal and praying for the kingdom of God to go forth to all the nations.
Though the little liturgical moment created some momentary awkwardness, I really liked it. I tend to associate liturgy with perfunctory worship. This family's natural blending of liturgy into family tradition was special. Creeds and liturgy are really the reciting of truth – uttered together down through the centuries by God's people. It is cool when you think about it. It connects us with the faithful of the ages and reminds us of God's faithfulness as the keeper of covenant promises.
I am inspired. I am going to see to it that we start incorporating small liturgical phrases into our family traditions – like before the prayer at the family meal.
Friend, "may the Lord be with you."