Of all my years in church I’ve never had a Lord’s Supper. I’ve been given a stale paper coin and an ounce of grape juice. This is communion and we (the church) do it to remember the life, death, and resurrected life of Christ. We do it because it’s in the Bible but we don’t do it anything like the Bible. At the very least, In-church communion is a sentimental touch. This slight touch ripples our emotions and satisfies our craving to feel the presence of God. By it we spend a brief moment in silence frowning our thoughts till they harmonize with the somber tone of a pastor stuttering to the rhythm of a slow guitar being picked. Communions are on par with attending a funeral of a distant family friend: solemn and uncomfortable, with eyes glued to your watch hoping you’ve made long enough of an appearance to be considered polite. The Lord’s Supper is our time to eat and drink “in remembrance” of Christ, yet the manner we do it makes me believe He died and never rose. If Christ’s death was personal and his resurrection magnificent, shouldn’t our remembrance of Him be the same?
This isn’t a call to abolish In-church communion, only to rethink its purpose. In-church communion should be an introduction to the Lord’s Supper, instead, for many, it’s the pinnacle. Consuming stale paper coins and mini shots of grape juice is a holy snack, unworthy of its title: The Lord’s Supper. Jesus could have gathered the crowds when he asked his disciples to partake in his body and blood the same way he fed thousands with fish and bread. Instead Jesus was in the presence of those who knew him most intimately. At this meal they shared something prolonged periods at a dinner table force us to share – each other. In church we share each others trash as empty communion cups pile back into trays before being passed to the person at our side. It takes only a few juxtaposing elements to know in-church communion is no supper befitting a king, let alone The King of Kings.
A better remembrance of our Lord should take place amongst few, those who know us through tears and joy, in everything we are, and still love us wholly. Our bread should fill us as the body of Christ filled our spirits with life. The wine should wash down the bread as his blood washed away our sins with the sweet taste of salvation savored by our sips. It should be a supper fit for The King: filled with stories of Christ’s life and how he’s changed ours; stories that lead to spontaneous bouts of praise and prayer – the kind that lingers on our tongues like the heat of hot sauce. Our Lord is magnificent, let our remembrance of him be too.
Hopes: You host a Lord’s Supper fit for our King.
If you’re interested in getting a group together to give this a go or want to share your experiences after Lord’s Supper we want to know! Comment below.