It's More Than Just Crackers and Grape Juice

So this is something that I've had written for a while...

So in my past 18 years of life I have been involved in dozens of communion services. I remember when I was little, I would sit in the pew while the juice tray came around and I would always eye the mini cup that I thought had the most juice in it. Also, with the cracker tray, before it even made it to me I would have already picked out the cracker that wasn’t broken and in my little eyes was perfect. At the time I never really looked for the deep, life changing meaning behind the grape juice and cracker that sat before me. I just saw a mini cup and a cracker that needed a little salt.

            This ceremony that I’ve sat through numerous times, never really took any affect on me until my freshman year at Free Will Baptist Bible College. Actually during the first month there, I went through three communion services. I had a feeling God might be trying to tell me something, but honestly, I didn’t really think too much about it. Until one day, when I looked at this state at the Catholic school I had stated working at and I saw it. I saw the pain on Jesus’ face. I saw his frail, broken body upon the cross. I saw his love for me pour out through his blood. Then it hit me and made me sick. It took me back to the times that I would sit in the pew in Red Bay, Alabama thinking, “Man these crackers are stale,” and “Why cant I have some more juice?” While I could blame it on my selfish childish ignorance (However, I’m still selfish, childish, and ignorant because yes, I’m human), I know that that’s what I’ve always thought.

            See, I’ve never had to go through any pain for anyone else, to say the very least. I’ve never died for anyone else (apparently). So to actually sit and think of the broken body that these stale crackers represented or the precious blood the mini cup of grape juice stood for makes me sick to my stomach. Jesus, the perfect sacrifice, went through so much torture and pain and finally laid down His life for someone as wicked and vile as me. I, myself, couldn’t imagine enduring a paper cut for my friend that would lie to me someday much less endure lashes with a whip of broken glass, stones, and bones, a crown of 2 inch in width thorns, and literally a “jab” to the side for billions of people that would neglect me and break my heart over and over again day after day.

            I’ve always just gone through the motions never really thinking twice about what the ceremony represented. There’s a song that we play during chapel a lot that goes:

“Why should I gain from His reward?

I cannot give an answer

But this I know with all my heart

His wounds have paid my ransom.”

As I sit and reflect on this I think He could have came down off that cross and any time. He could have stopped the beatings in a second flat but He didn’t. It’s like if we were to put our hand into an open fire. It’s burning; pain goes shooting up through your entire body. You could pull your hand out at anytime, but you don’t because you’ve made a promise to those laughing at your pain and the ones that are pushing your hand farther into the flame. Sounds absolutely absurd, but that’s what “love” is. That’s what Jesus did for us, not only the professed Christians but also for the professed atheist. He died for us that claim to love him but also for those who claim to hate him or don’t believe in his existence. He went though one of the most painful was to die. Not to mention all of the humiliation he was put through, and to put on top of that it was a slow death. He suffered hours upon hours for people that would one day reject him.

            So next time when you sit in the pew and the communion tray is passed, don’t think of the stale crackers and the mini cups of juice. Think about the greatest act of love demonstrated for you even while you were a vile, filthy sinner. He suffered it all, for you.