Reflections on Communion

This is a reflection from when I served for a year as a full-time volunteer with an organization called "Faith Community."  I worked with homeless and runaway youth, 21 and under.  I love this story so much, and just had to share.  It is from January, 2010.

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I love communion.  I used to just eat my little cracker and drink a cup of juice without really understanding what was going on.  However,not long after I became a Christian, I started asking God “What is this about?”  I mean, I knew what it was about in the sense of the bread is Jesus, the juice is His blood, yadda yadda yadda—but what did that mean to me?  I mean,  I struggled with if I was being a cannibal for a little while, and then God slowly started revealing to me what the act of communion means.  It means many things—too many to recount in a short reflection.

First, and most obviously, communion is a meal.  It is a part of a Passover feast.  It means forgiveness.  His body broken and His blood shed for us all.  It means a saved life, protection, security, promise, being set-apart.  What I have now come to understand more is that it means something broken to bring us all who are broken, back together as whole.

I take a group of youth to church on Saturday nights, and my motley crew of youth this particular outting included a former drug dealer, prostitutes, a stripper, and two ex-cons.  The service was a special one because we were taking communion at the end of the service.  My two ex-cons who were with me happened to become followers of Jesus during their time in jail, and one of them turned to me while they were preparing the elements and said “Miss Jenny, can I go up and get communion?”

In my mind, I’m thinking—well of course you can!! The table is open!"  While I’m thinking this, the pastor is calling up the lay leaders of the church to help serve the elements of communion.  As they are coming up, I turn to this young man and say with an enthusiastic head nod, “yes!”

I didn’t realize that his question meant, “Can I go up and get communion right now?”

As the lay leaders are approaching  the altar, this youth runs up to the front of the sanctuary, followed by his other ex-con buddy.  Then, their enthusiasm inspires some other young guys from the congregation to get up and rush toward the communion table.  The lay leaders looked around a little confused, but the pastor tried to maintain everyone’s composure and simply kept preparing the elements for the entire congregation.  I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself and smile wide as I thought about the social faux pas that they were committing at that moment.

However, the part that made me watch them in awe was the fact that these were two young men with dark stories, and yet, they had no shame or reservation about coming to the table of the Lord.  They knew who they were, and they knew who God is—and they knew that they had “large debts” that had been canceled—which only made them run even faster toward the communion table.

There is a Leeland song that I love called “Carried to the Table.”  The chorus of the song goes like this:

“I was carried to the table
Seated where I don’t belong
I was carried to the table
Swept away by His love
And I don’t see my brokenness anymore
When I’m seated at the table of the Lord
I was carried to the table
The table of the Lord”

None of us deserve a seat at God’s table—and yet, God says come anyway.  He invites the weary and heavy laden to enter into His rest, and to taste and see that He is good.

I wish we all had such an understanding of God’s love and grace that made us run like that.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”—Matthew 5:6

Kumbaya

Sunshine.  Beautiful water.  Swimming/boating/kayaking/canoeing/children-launching.  Bunk-beads.  Bugs.  

Yes.  I am talking about camp.  A rite of passage for some, a way of life for others.  Truly a week-long period of time that is either a "Sweet dream/or a beautiful nightmare..." (Depending on if you have to sleep near the snoring kid, the booger-picker, the bed-wetter, or the other normal kid like you).

As I was growing up, it was usually the latter rather than the former (not the bed-wetting part, the nightmare part).  I never really liked camp.  I hated (still hate) bugs, and I didn't really believe in something called "sweating" when I was younger.  Giving up my comfortable bed, and possibly forsaking air conditioning while putting myself directly with many other "sweaty" and immature peers did not sound like a good time. But, since God apparently wanted all His kids to experience camp, I went.

I wish I could say that I had life-changing experiences at camp as a camper--but, I never did.  In fact, I usually felt more isolated, alienated, and I actually sprained my ankle (for the second time) during my final teenage camp experience. I have many friends who "met Jesus" at camp, and surrendered their lives to Him there.  I have talked to many who have beautiful camp experiences, and then there are the few like me who leave enjoying camp--but secretly wonder why in the world they went.  

The after is what is always curious to me.  What happens after camp?  What happens after you have (or don't have) this close experience with God?  I know God doesn't just stay at camp, but is with us at all times.  But, do we choose to continue to commune with Him after the hype of a shared emotional experience is over?

Maybe the purpose of camp for me when I was younger was to OBVIOUSLY get me ready to organize one when I got older.  God sure does have a sense of humor, doesn't He?  So, now I am coming home from "Rhythm" camp with the students I work with.  It was a beautiful experience together, and I know there were bonds formed that have the promise of long-lasting friendships.  God really did Kumbaya--"Come by here."  My deepest prayer is that, regardless of their understanding of the camp experience,  the bonds they formed with Christ live into the promise of His long-lasting commitment of relationship with us.  May we always know that when we are in rhythm with God, that the melody of or lives will always be in tune--and may surprise us with the song it sings!