When I was a kid, our church let the little kids help collect the communion cups after the service. In those days, the cups were reusable and were washed in the church kitchen’s Hobart washing machine. The reward was a full styrofoam cup of Welch’s Grape Juice. As a child who grew up in a home where we didn’t get juice except for special occasions, grape juice–and Welch’s at that–was a glorious glorious treat! Welch’s really was the ‘good stuff’, and they weren’t lying about the “taste you can feel in your cheeks”!
The other day, while finishing the juice from the tiny cup at the end of communion, I was struck by the thought that at the communion table, we only get a small taste of the bread and cup. This ritual is meant to remind us of Christ’s death, and the future hope we have because of His resurrection. Death no longer has any sting, as 1 Corinthians 15:55 reminds us, and in Christ, our work is never in vain.
But this passed Sunday, I was reminded of the temporality of our lives: on this side of the return of Christ, nothing lasts and everything dies. At the communion table, unlike the Sabbath meal feast, we only get a taste of the bread and of the cup. Almost as if to remind us that though there is great victory and future hope in Christ’s work at the cross, we are still living within time and aren’t there yet.
This is both animating and agonizing. On one hand, the regular reminder that Jesus’ work IS finished, that there IS victory and hope in the midst of affliction is what carries me week to week. On the other, the longer the affliction goes on, the more I long for Christ to come now. Yesterday. Last week…!
And yet, it is in the middle of the animation and agony that I see the outworkings of sanctification. It is in the affliction, the daily trusting that the Lord will carry me, and the inner longings of Christ to rescue me that Jesus works out the dross of my soul and exposes the gold in me, reflecting only His beauty. It is in the middle where I thirst and long for righteousness in a deeper way. The agony whets my appetite for His Glory.
Isaiah 32:17 reminds us that even in the midst of disaster, when the King reigns, “the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever”. And so, even though it’s just a small taste, this tiny cup and small cube of bread reminds me that there is something real and lasting coming, and in the hoping, I am made quiet; communion is a taste I can feel in my soul.
What you’ll find here is a collection of musings, thoughts, writings, and ramblings about things I’m reading, watching, and thinking about. It’s my goal to inspire, encourage, and instruct my fellow sisters in their walk with Jesus and their understanding of the Word.
- Erika Recommends: Best Books of 2021 - December 15, 2021
- Slow-Going in the Fast Lane - October 14, 2021
- A Taste You Can Feel In Your Cheeks - September 29, 2021
