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Sunday, October 28, 2012

Running Down My Knuckles

We stand up when the music begins to play and begin to walk toward the front of the room. Chris is in front of me and Rachel is behind me; we come step by step. Steve had just spent the last thirty minutes describing all of ways we pride ourselves in our accomplishments, good deeds, heritage, and abilities. We come to God with these things, proud of our worthiness because we cannot believe the all-encompassing grace of Jesus. What do I put in this equation?

Jesus + ________ = Everything

Nothing. Jesus is everything. God's love cannot be earned or deserved. It's unreasonable and irrational. It is extravagant and incomprehensible. Anything I have done or become has all been overcome by God's love.

I see a woman holding out a plate full of pieces of bread and a man holding a clay cup full of red juice.

In the bread and the wine, Christ invites me to receive his grace, to digest it. The invitation is for
everyone. To receive communion is to receive Christ himself: his body and blood given for the world.

I take a piece of bread and dip it in the cup. The deep red juice runs down my middle finger to my knuckles. I sit in a plastic chair and lean forward as I begin to chew the bread in my mouth. I swallow.

In my mind I picture Jesus, far away at first. I can see his face as I come closer. I fall to the ground and hold his feet, under which is grass and earth, not clouds as I would have thought. On his feet I notice scar tissue from a wound that so long ago held him to a cross. Jesus comes to the ground with me and holds me and we are crying and laughing together.

The music comes to a close. An announcement is made and I am back in community, greeting new friends. Today is communion.

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