Today my good friend, Michelle, from Trading Ashes for Beauty, offers us a very important reminder, especially at this time of year, to take a break from all the activity and remember Christ’s sacrifice for us through the ritual of Communion. I know that I often take Communion for granted because at our church, we have Communion at every service. Next time, I will remember that Communion is far more than bread and juice…it’s a precious reminder of the saving grace of Christ. Thank you Michelle, for sharing your heart.
My goodness, what an honor to be asked to write a post for Heather! I have big shoes to fill, and I hope I don’t come up short to Heather’s expectations! Anyway, I have been praying over this, and here is what I feel led to write about.
At this time of year, many churches celebrate Communion. I grew up in a southern Baptist church, and every Christmas Eve we gathered at 6:00 to take Communion. As a child, it was a bothersome thing, having to leave the cookie baking and playing with my friends and cousins who had come into town for Christmas. I had to get dressed up in itchy velvet and uncomfortable tights and black patent leather shoes that pinched my toes and made squeaky sounds when they rubbed together. As a teenager, it was a chance to dress up in whatever was stylish and new from my Mom for Christmas and see my friends. During the service we would whisper about what we hoped we would find under the tree the next morning. Afterwards, it was the hope of seeing that special young man who I had dressed up for in hopes of impressing and hope for a little Christmas magic that would turn him into the perfect Christmas Ken-doll boyfriend.
I married very young, and promising to never return to small-town Southern life, we moved 6,000 miles from home to Hawaii, where Christmas was celebrated much differently. Since we attended the inter-denominational chapel on the Navy base, there was no Christmas Eve communion. Having married and moved away to escape the small-town Southern life and what it offered, which in my young ignorant mind was spending my life married to a redneck who chewed tobacco and had hound dogs and went out to kill wildlife with his shotgun any chance he got while I stayed home barefoot and pregnant, the Navy life excited me! It offered adventure and new friends and new experiences. Over time, the tradition of Communion, along with most of my Christian upbringing and rituals gradually disappeared. After going through the pain of infertility, betrayal by my Ken-doll husband, a painful divorce and FINALLY the joy of finally meeting my soulmate, I found myself longing for the traditions again. But was it truly the tradition I missed?
After learning to NEVER SAY NEVER, we moved back to the South and I found myself at a Christmas Eve Communion service again in the same church I grew up in, this time with my husband and 5 month old baby girl. The silver communion plates gleamed in the candlelight. The choir voices blended in perfect harmony. The juice and wafers were the same. But it felt like something was missing.
A few years and a few hollow Communion services later, I experienced a weekend of intensive soul searching and renewal of my Christian walk. I felt closer to Christ than ever. I finally understood what He did for me. When it came time to take communion, the leader shared with us that many people pass the Communion plate on by, because they feel so unworthy of taking Communion. (I had never actually passed the plate without taking a wafer and juice, but inside I often felt guilty about doing so, fearing that God would be angry with me for taking His Holy Communion when I was so messed up inside). She went on to explain that NONE of us, even our pastors and teachers are worthy of His communion and grace, that it is only through Christ’s death on the cross that His blood MADE US WORTHY! Wow….. what a revelation! I AM WORTHY!!!! It is through HIS ultimate sacrifice that Christ made me worthy to take part in this ancient ritual.
Communion now is very precious to me. I understand that the broken bread and juice represent Christ’s broken body and the blood He shed for me. I cry most everytime I take communion now, because it is so much more that getting dressed up and lighting candles and eating a bland cracker while waiting to choke down some tart juice. It is partaking of Supper with my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
This year, since we are part of a new Church, we had Communion on Sunday morning, and there will not be a communion service Christmas Eve. My husband will be leading us in the observance of Holy Communion at home for the very first time, and I am sure I will cry harder than ever as I reflect on what Jesus did for me and my family as we take the symbolic bread and cup in remembrance of Christ.
I urge you to consider taking a few minutes away from gift wrapping and baking and cooking and cleaning and sit down with your family. It doesn’t have to be fancy, some juice and some bread is all you need, and celebrate your own time of refection on what the birth of a Savior over 2,000 years ago means to you.
