Our church has recently begun serving communion by having each member approach the table and be served by an elder. After you eat and drink, you return to your seat while the other members follow the line to the table.
After my turn, I went back to my seat and saw two things that pointed to our faithful God.
The first was a little kid, probably about ten years old, who was walking back to his seat holding the bread and grape juice in both hands. All of his concentration was focused on not spilling the grape juice. So much in fact, I think he would have failed a sobriety test. I think he managed to keep the juice in the cup, but he dropped the bread on the floor. He picked it up, returned to his seat, and ate.
God knows how clumsy we all are. He knows our weaknesses and doubts. He has given us a meal to help us remember he is with us. A meal. How considerate and humble is that? A meal that a clumsy ten year old can drop and spill. I'm thankful my God knows how weak I am. I'm thankful he has given me a meal to remember his broken body and spilled blood with.
The second thing I saw was a woman with her daughter walking in line crying. She lost her husband in a car crash this winter. The sermon was about heaven and being reunited with loved ones. The pastor encouraged us that heaven was not about making new things, but making all things new.
Her face was full of gratitude and pain. It was an intense picture of where we live as Christians. There is a confident and defiant hope that makes us know all will be well. Every tragedy will not only be made right, but will someday even make sense. But until then we're left with the reality of the pain we experience here on earth.
I saw myself in the clumsy boy and the broken woman. But mostly, I was reminded of the only God who came and walked with us, cried with us, ate with us, and was broken for us.
1 comments:
That was a beautiful post, Danny. I love Communion. Every Christmas Eve, John and I serve Communion. We don't do it exactly the same way every year. But twice we have stood at the front with a loaf of bread and a chalice of juice. John gives each person a pinch of the bread and I hold the chalice for them to dip the bread in. The first time we did it, I was nervous. We were supposed to tell each person, "This is our Lord's body, broken for you," and "This is our Lord's blood, shed for you." (We don't believe it actually becomes either, but is a rememberance of what he did for us on the cross.) As I said that to each person, including children, I connected with each individual, looking into each person's eyes and saying that to them. I had tears in my eyes and could hardly hold them back each time. It made what Jesus did for us so individual and so personal. I thought about how he did what he did individually for each of those persons, whom he knew before their existence. It gave new meaning to "For God so loved the world..." It was as powerful as any experience I have ever had. And I look forward to my participation in that service every year. It is one of our special Christmas traditions (John and me).
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