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.

____________________

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