Paint and Pixels

The Lord's Supper

While sitting in church on Sunday I pondered the question of why communion tastes so dang good. I’m not catholic- so communion isn’t about a styrofoam wafer and sip of bitter wine. No- communion at our church is a chunk of crusty french bread dipped into a goblet of sweet grape juice. I tend to pull a bigger chunk of bread off of the loaf than Matt does, because he is always modest like that. We also dispute about the right time to go forward to partake. I want to go right away so that I don’t have to wait in line. Matt, on the other hand, likes to look prayerful and contemplative before going forward so that he doesn’t appear hasty. I feel that being hasty about receiving something sacred is justified, since we ought to be eager to participate- not reluctant. But the point is not when we partake, or how much we partake of. The point is to let the moist juicy bread sit in your mouth for a while and relish its unparalleled goodness, knowing that it is small piece of our sweet Jesus.
That one morsel of juice soaked bread is better than anything I’ve try to satisfy myself with. It is better than a ten serving bag of peach rings. It is better than a mug full of melted butter, chocolate chips, maple syrup and cornflakes all mixed together. It is better than a whole can of sweetened condensed milk. It is better than peanut butter, cream cheese, and chocolate syrup spread on top of vanilla wafers. Maybe it is because I don’t have the option of grabbing another bite, and so I am forced to truly enjoy the one bite in my mouth, instead of thinking about stuffing another handful in. Or maybe it is because it is a treat I can’t buy for myself. I can’t pick it up at 7/11 or Starbucks, or Crispie Cream. So when it is offered to me, I receive it as a delicacy knowing that I may not be able to enjoy it again for weeks. Or maybe it is because the opportunity to partake usually comes unexpectedly. I am always pleasantly surprised to see the communion table elegantly set at the front of the sanctuary. Jesus said “take; eat; this is my body”. Perhaps that single thought makes it taste so good. It’s perfectly portioned; it can’t be purchased; it’s unexpected; it’s Jesus.
I’m reminded of Jesus not only during communion. He allows me to partake of him daily. Every unexpected blessing I encounter is actually a piece of Jesus. It’s not the imitation sweetness that I eagerly strain to squeeze out of life; it’s the true sweetness that naturally and unexpectedly drips into my hands- these are the perfectly allotted portions of Jesus himself. Not too much, so that I feel sick- just enough for me to savor its goodness, not knowing when it will occur again. It’s a rainbow in the sky, a deformed person in the grocery store, a romantic dream at night, a perfect scrabble bingo, a thunderstorm, a genuine hug, an appearance by a wild animal. It’s perfectly portioned, it can’t be purchased, it’s unexpected; it’s Jesus. Such experiences as these are daily bites of the Lord’s supper that I intend to savor as I contemplate the privilege that it is to partake in communion with Jesus.