I'm never quite sure what meets the definition of irony, but, to me, the issue of communion, and the controversies that surround it, strikes me as very ironic. A Greek word used in the New Testament that is frequently translated as "communion" is the word, "koinonia". The irony lies in that koinonia also means "fellowship" or "joint participation". What ought to produce togetherness can frequently bring strong differences of opinion and dis-jointedness. This is what Isaac Pennington and George Fox referred to as "strife and jangling about outward Things, and Shaddows,..." For Quakers, the solution to this irony is to focus on the Real Presence of the Risen Christ, "in whom there is no strife but Life and Peace."
Of course, that doesn't solve all the problems. The question then becomes, "how to focus on the Presence?" For many, who haven't grown up amongst Friends or haven't entirely become convinced Friends, they still cling to outward symbols, like bread and wine, as helpful or even necessary for connecting to Christ's Presence. There is a 300 year-old tendency amongst Friends to be tolerant towards those who have differing opinions. However, then a new problem can arise: a meeting containing those who require outward symbols and well as those who don't. Can a meeting survive for very long with two differing groups? One side can point to their own meaningful experience and background of the use of outward symbols, while the other side can point to their own experience without symbols and the vast preponderance of Quaker faith and practice. Yikes!
I am not saying that I have the answer. The direction I'm exploring, as a Friends elder, is the practice of "laboring", meaning that I'm laboring with those in our midst who are not yet convinced. I'm doing this with temerity, because I believe elders ought to do, as Becky Ankeny says, "the hard work." And this is hard work for me, an introverted, don't-make-waves kind of person.
In addition to boldness, I'm trying to be gentle. I often find those whom I disagree with often have arrived at their positions genuinely, and I like praising and affirming the avenues they have taken. But then, as an elder and a convinced Friends, I attempt to lead them in a different direction.
I will try to report on how this is going.

Why do I call this blog "sown roots?" For me, I was not born within Friends. I was 26 years old, and I had bounced around three or four different denominations. In hindsight, I was, like Fox, looking for something which spoke to my condition. I came to Friends through my fianceé, and I could tell fairly quickly that I had found something which could have a deep impact upon me. There was something different about Quakers that I wanted in my life. And so, I began to explore Quaker roots. Harold Antrim was my pastor and he offered a class on Friends. I eagerly took his class, which lead me to exploring more in depth. I even earned a Master's degree from Western Evangelical Seminary in Church History & Thought in order to explore Quakerism more extensively. Through all of this study and searching, I came to one, life-altering realization, which is best summed up by Thomas Kelly: "This experience of the Divine Presence, as a repeatedly realized and present fact, and its transforming and transfiguring effect upon all of life, this is the central message of Friends.

My condition was spoke to and transformed by the Risen Christ. At the churches I had been at before Friends, their Christ was the Christ of 2,000 years ago. Friends, however, testified to a Christ of today, here and now. The atoning work achieved by Christ upon the cross makes it so that we can experience and have a relationship with God in 2010.
These roots, that Christ can speak to anyone's condition and transform him or her, I do not leave as admirable antique theological ideas. Rather, I sow them in my relationships, in my family, and in my church. What springs up from this sowing, I leave up to God.

I seems to me that much of my growth as a Christian involves learning to recognize "idols", removing their influence and reorienting myself toward the True Shepherd. One way that I've learned to recognize idols is to see what in my life serves as a replacement for God. An idol is anything or anyone, apart from God, that I derive from a sense of security, identity and/or hope. Those are things I ought to find sourced only in God.
Let's look at identity. There are plenty of voices and forces in the world, going all the way back to my childhood, that are very willing to tell me who I am. They will lable me "unloveable", "unworthy" or "bad". These identities, however, are not the identity that God has given me. To God, I am beloved. When I permit another to lable me in any other way than beloved, then I am giving an idol a place in my life. Colin Saxton, at men's retreat a couple of weeks ago, described a discipline in which he, early in the morning, before even rising from bed, endevors to see himself as God sees him. I read of such a practice in one of Frank Laubach's books, and I've been trying to incorporate it into my life. What I tell myself, over and over, is "I am nothing, but beloved", "I am nothing, but beloved." My idea behind this chant is to remind myself that I have no other identity except the one I find from God, and that is that I am beloved. I find that I have to remind myself of this truth throughout the day, as old idolatrous tapes get activated in my head.
I share this as one begger to any other begger who is still looking for Bread, Living Bread.