When I was a boy, we always sat in a circle to remember the Lord. Or at least they sat in the circle–I was not in fellowship so I sat “at the back” with those who had not been received by the assembly.
There was a definite “in” and “out” to the assembly in those days. And we knew who was in and who was not. Not being “in” placed you in the seat of the unlearned where you could observe without participating. Let me tell you what I observed.
First, I noticed that the circle was not a circle, or so it seemed to me. It looked very much like a square. A circle, after all, as Webster defines it, is “a closed plane curve every point of which is equidistant from a fixed point within the curve.”
But perhaps those old-timers weren’t wrong. They were not talking about the location of their chairs, but the location of their hearts! And their hearts were all equidistant from the Center after all.
I also noticed the reverence of those in the circle. As they took their places (usually fifteen minutes or more before the meeting officially began), they sat silently reading their Bibles, or with their eyes closed in meditation. They even tip-toed to their places across the linoleum floor. Reverence was the word that came to mind. I sensed I was sitting in the anteroom of heaven, looking in.
I remember the eloquence of the men who prayed. It was not false piety or put-on. Most of the believers in my local assembly were blue-collar workers; many had not been educated past eighth grade. They may not have been familiar with the classics, but they knew their way around the Word, and they knew their way into the Holiest.
I remember the singing, a little slower than I would have paced it, but heartfelt and real. I remember the tears, too. Working men with calloused hands and tender hearts would break down, then sit down, unable to finish their prayer. I can’t forget those memories.
That’s one reason I and my family gather with other saints around a table with bread and wine each week to remember Him. And in the center is our Lord.