Worthy of Communion?

“You will lose one childhood memory with every fact you push into your brain.” That was the  unsubstantiated but scary claim of one of my medical school professors, even as thousands of such facts were assigned to be memorized.

And I have found that my grade-school memories of living in Hawaii have grown shrouded in uncertainty over the years. They aren’t gone… just faded into the background of a busy life.

Which brings me to communion. I’ve grown to really like the word, with its flavor of intimacy and shared fellowship.  More than “The Lord’s Supper,” communion captures the longing that Jesus had, the “earnest desire that he desired” to share that time with his disciples, on that evening he was betrayed. We remember a moment long anticipated, yearned for even, on the part of the Son of God.

But mostly… I’m amazed at what Jesus set up to help us remember. I’m one of the ones Jesus died for. This ordinance is for me. I am in constant danger of thinking like the world and having the world rob me of right thinking about the death of Jesus and its ongoing daily meaning for my life. And thus… this ordinance, this remembrance, this special acted-out teaching gets replayed with frequency in my life. So that I might, along with the rest of our body, remember Jesus.

There is no heavy self-examination for worthiness involved. We are all unworthy. There is no making sure that I’ve cleaned up first, no clearing the slate so that I have done something to deserve taking. Nothing like that can be found in scripture, for all that people try to bring in Matthew 5 or John 6 out of context.  They shouldn’t. Neither of those passages have anything directly to do with what Jesus established in communion.

There is not even a special badness for the unbeliever who partakes. Not that eating crackers and drinking grape juice will help them. I mean, Judas was there in Luke 22, and he didn’t get zapped… nor did he change his course.

In communion there is only a gift from Jesus. He will pay for our sins alone. He will die alone, betrayed. He is eager to have us remember that everything – everything – is a gift. In Christ alone, grace alone.

And so I don’t care who takes the elements. Or rather… I do care that all are invited. Right? Because no one has standing over another. That’s the problem Paul has in 1 Corinthians 11. He is saddened that some churchgoers are coming early and pigging out on the communion elements. That sets up a hierarchy, that prevents some people from partaking based on when they come, that says something about who deserves it. And no one deserves it. We all receive.

That’s why it is important for new believers and old, for weak, barely-awake believers and mature, for anyone who calls on the name of Jesus to have this incredible tool to ward off the world… because that’s what is needed. For us again to marvel at the amazing sacrifice of Jesus Christ for each of us. Together.

So bring your kids. Bring your angry friend who needs a reminder. Bring your busy executive. Bring your frazzled housewife. Come to the cross. Find there grace, in the body given for you, in the blood poured out for you. Realize you are part of a new covenant, one in which all is fulfilled.

“It is finished” is Jesus’ last word on this. And it is. We believe it. And communion once again places that incredible act of Jesus at the burning center of my life. Where it needs to be. Because our only hope is in him.

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