My daughters were ages five and four when we took them to Disney World.  Having grown up on a steady diet of Disney fables, their anticipation of this trip was overwhelming.  Our first morning there, we boarded a bus to the Magic Kingdom – the first stop just had to be Cinderella’s castle.  The only other people on board the bus was a group of senior citizens, all traveling together on a vacation.  My girls were wide-eyed, and at the first glimpse of the spires of the castle, they let out a squeal that still reverberates in my ears more than a decade later.

For me, that was the best part of the trip, before we even got started:  finding my joy through them.  The group of seniors on the bus all laughed and shared the delight of the moment with us; I suspect they saw the faces of their own grandchildren in ours.  I already had my reward before we even started.

On Christmas, as everyone gathers around the tree to open presents, we don’t distribute the gifts and then instruct each family member to go to their individual rooms, open their gifts, and meet back later to compare notes.  As a child, my parents left strict instructions that we were not to sneak downstairs Christmas morning to see what Santa brought – we had to wake them up and all go downstairs together.  The reason, of course, was that the greatest part of the experience for them was watching our faces, and finding their joy in ours.

As an introvert, it’s hard sometimes to welcome community when I’m wired to replenish myself through alone-time, downtime.  And sometimes, an escape to solitude is just what the good Doctor ordered.  But I’ve found when I go without community for even a short stretch, I miss the joy of connecting – not just because I need to, but because I’m most fulfilled by the joy of those I care for the most.  I’ve found I miss the look on their faces when we get together, and seeing their smile is almost as important as seeing my daughters’ reaction to Disney World.  We are all nourished in ways great and small through everyone else’s presence.

Paul said, “Make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.”  (Phil. 2.2)  His happiness, like ours, is greatest when vicariously experienced in our closest communities.

“God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort.  He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.  When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”  (II Cor. 1.3-4)

My wife is a great cook, and I’ve found the better someone is at something, the better they appreciate good tools.  Just as a craftsman spends heavily on precision saws, and a concert pianist appreciates a Bosendorfer, so a good cook appreciates the right instruments – in this case, copper-bottomed pans.  Why?  Because copper is an excellent conductor.  Heat is transferred uniformly and without loss so the food cooks evenly and at the right temperature.

In the movie “Pay It Forward,” the unasked question between the lines is this:  what kind of conductor are you?  Do kindnesses tend to come to an end at your doorstep, or are they freely distributed to others, so that benefits accrue rather than depreciate?

Community blesses us not only as recipients, but also as donors, because in knowing and being known we are given opportunities to dispense the very comfort and grace we have been given.  As John Rempel said in Communion as a Gathered Body, “[In Christ], autonomous individuals [do not] have parallel religious experiences.  We do not come to Christ alone but with and through one another.  The meaning of the term ‘priesthood of all believers’ is not that we can come to God privately but that we come to him on one another’s behalf:  each of us is a priest for the other.”