And yet, and yet…

This past Sunday as our church did Communion, one of my children after drinking the cup of grape juice quietly said, “Mmm. That was good.”

It made me laugh, generally because when it comes to Baptist Lord’s Suppers, I’m not sure tasty has ever been high on my descriptor list. The little papier mache cracker that turns to cement in the mouth and the 1/8 of a gulp of grape juice hasn’t ever really had me salivating.

But when my daughter quietly said that, it reminded me of a beautiful part of the passage when Jesus is serving his disciples his last supper. “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer.” (Luke 22:15)

That phrase has always stopped me in my tracks in wonder. Jesus knew what he was about to face on the road to the Cross. He knew the physical pain, the humiliation, the shame, the fear, the betrayal that laid ahead for him. And yet, instead of expressing grief or resentment or even warning, Jesus expresses to his friends his excitement of sharing this meal with them. In his shoes with my chronic anxiety, I don’t think I could gin up an emotion like that.

Why did Jesus express this? It gives a beautiful statement about the purpose of communion and fellowship in our lives. It’s not a convenience, it’s a purposeful, fulfillment of hope in a lonely world. It is a recognition that goes beyond just practice of religion to the air we breathe.

We need one another.

Our communion is the electricity that God uses to inspire and enliven us. Our togetherness, our celebration, our encouragement, our excitement, our common laments, our worship, all swirl together to give strength to our hearts. Jesus didn’t long to eat the Passover with his disciples to just fulfill a ritual or to eat a meal; Jesus longed to celebrate with his friends because he loved them. In fact, the Gospel of John opens his observation of the Lord’s Supper like this: “Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” (John 13:1)

Wow. Loving his friends to the end meant sharing a meal, speaking the truth, serving them, and spending time with them. Before the Cross, before the Passion, came the washing of feet, breaking of bread, sharing of wine, and the speaking of truth.

If this is what communion looks like to the author and perfecter of our faith, what does that say to our practice of communion? Not just in the Lord’s Supper, but in the gathering of worship and the practice of the church? If the places of Jesus’s presence with us are this communion, where do we see sharing, truth-speaking, service, and time intentionally spent together? Is your communion with the Lord checking a box, showing up (if there’s not a soccer game that morning), critically looking for a tingly experience, then leaving without talking to anyone? If this is your communion, it should be no surprise that the tiny square cracker doesn’t quench your appetite.

But if your communion is like the Lord’s, a communion that greatly desires the fellowship with the other in the midst of worship, you may join my daughter in saying even of the mL of grape juice, “Mmm. That’s good.”

Signs and wonders y’all.

Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity! Psalm 133:1