Posts tagged ‘Lord’s Supper’
More Than a Memorial
Today is Memorial Day. Today’s observances continue a tradition that began on May 5, 1868, when General John A. Logan called for a nationwide day of remembrance at the end of that month for those lost in the Civil war:
The 30th of May, 1868, is designated for the purpose of strewing with flowers, or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country during the late rebellion, and whose bodies now lie in almost every city, village, and hamlet churchyard in the land.
Because General Logan called for the decorating of graves, his observance was called “Decoration Day.” Over time, Decoration Day came to be known as Memorial Day and was moved to the last Monday in May by an act of Congress in 1968 and has been celebrated on this Monday ever since 1971.
As Memorial Day encourages us to do, remembering those we have lost is critical. And like its predecessor, Decoration Day, reminds us, using physical objects – from crosses to pictures to flowers to flags – to help us remember can be healing.
The night before Jesus goes to the cross, He gathers His disciples to celebrate a final meal with them. As in Decoration Day, Jesus presents His disciples with some physical objects:
Jesus took bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke it and gave it to His disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is My body.” Then He took a cup, and when He had given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” (Matthew 26:26-28)
And as in Memorial Day, Jesus also encourages His disciples to remember Him:
“Do this in remembrance of Me.” (Luke 22:19)
But this meal is more than simply a memorial with some tokens that help us remember a person we have lost. The apostle Paul writes that, when we partake of this meal with its objects of bread and wine, we are not only remembering with Christ, but communing with Christ here and now:
Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ? And is not the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ? (1 Corinthians 10:16)
But how do we commune with Christ – indeed, even with His very blood and body – here and now?
If Christ had shared this meal with His disciples before He died and then remained dead, this meal would simply be a memorial. But He did not stay dead. Three days later, He rose. So we do not just remember Christ with bread and wine, we truly commune with Christ in the meal He has given us. He is our risen and living host.
Paul also writes:
We believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in Him. For the Lord Himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. (1 Thessalonians 4:14, 16-17)
Paul reminds us that Jesus’ resurrection is only the beginning of something even bigger. Because Christ has risen, those who die in Christ will rise, too. And we will all be together again. Children who have lost parents in battle, parents who have lost children, husbands who have lost wives, and wives who have lost husbands will all be reunited. And Memorial Day will be needed no more. For on the day Christ returns, we will not just remember our lost loved ones, we will commune with them – and with Christ.
Today, let us take a moment to remember those who have given their lives in battle to protect and defend this nation. But let us also hope for the day when we will need to remember no more because we will be able to see those we have lost face-to-face. The headstones we visit today will one day give way to hugs we enjoy forever.
That’s a promise worth remembering.
A Holy Week for Unholy Times
This week is the beginning of what is, in the history and tradition of the Christian Church, called Holy Week. It is a commemoration of the final week of Jesus’ life before His death on a cross in anticipation of His victory over death on Easter.
Yesterday, we celebrated Palm Sunday, which recounts Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on a donkey while crowds hail His arrival by laying palm fronds at His feet (John 12:13). Palms were a symbol of Jewish nationalistic pride. In 164 BC, after the Greek tyrant Antiochus IV Epiphanes, who had persecuted and murdered many Jews, was defeated, the Jews waved palms in celebration of their victory. On Palm Sunday, the crowds are hoping that, just as their Greek oppressors were taken down almost two centuries earlier, Jesus will be the revolutionary who takes down their Roman oppressors.
Then, this Thursday, we will observe Maundy Thursday. The word “Maundy” is a derivative of the Latin word mandatum, which means “command.” On this night, Jesus gives His disciples two commands. This first command is one of love:
A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. (John 13:34)
The second is a command given when Jesus institutes a supper, which we now call the Lord’s Supper. Jesus instructs His disciples:
Do this in remembrance of Me. (Luke 22:19)
Thus, on Maundy Thursday, Christians across the world will partake in the Lord’s Supper – not just to obey a command, but to receive what Jesus promises in this holy meal: “the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28).
The day after Maundy Thursday is Good Friday – the day of Jesus’ crucifixion. At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be anything good about it. Jesus is arrested by His enemies and condemned to die not because He has committed a crime, but because the religious elites of His day hate His popularity among the crowds in Jerusalem. Even the man who condemns Jesus to death on a cross, Pontius Pilate, knows that it is “out of envy that they had delivered Him up” (Matthew 27:18). This is a dark, unholy moment. As Jesus says to His accusers when they arrest Him: “This is your hour – when darkness reigns” (Luke 22:53). And yet, even in this dark, unholy moment, holiness cannot and will not be defeated. Righteousness will reign. For even though Jesus’ enemies commit an unholy crime against Him, He is giving His life for them. His sacrifice is what makes Holy Week truly “holy.”
The times in which we are living right now feel dark and unholy. “Stay-at-home” restrictions are getting stricter. The curve of infections and deaths from COVID-19 is rising steeper. For millions of people, life is getting harder. And yet, this week – Holy Week – can remind us that holiness is found in the most unholy of places. After all, an ancient instrument of torture and execution – the cross – has now become a worldwide symbol of consolation and hope. And so, even if this week feels unholy, this week can still be a Holy Week – not because we live in a holy world, but because we have hope in a Holy One.
Finding Our Place: Navigating Unionism and Sectarianism
Last week, I was answering some questions for a friend who is studying to become a pastor. His professor had given him two questions for me to answer as part of assignment. One of the questions really struck me: Where do you think Lutheranism fits within the wider Christian community?
This is an important question. After all, for some, it is not evident that Lutheranism does fit within the wider Christian community – at least in a way that encourages engagement with and learning from that community. Last week, I watched with an aching heart as some of my Lutheran brothers in ministry harshly and sometimes sarcastically criticized some of my other Lutheran brothers for engaging with and learning from people outside of my Lutheran community. These criticisms reminded me of how important questions about where Lutherans fit in the Church with a capital “C” really are.
In order to explore these questions, I think it’s important to note the Lutheran identity at its best is a confessional Lutheran identity. The word “confessional” is rooted in the Greek word homologeo, which means, “to say the same thing.” To be a confessional Lutheran, then, means to say the same thing as Jesus and His Word. It means to be devoted to a clear and accurate declaration and explanation of the gospel and sacred Scripture, which, I should point out, can be found in our community’s confessional documents.
When engaging the Christian community at large, this devotion to the gospel and Scripture means two things. First, it means that Lutherans eschew unionism. Unionists are those who conceal differences between Christian communities and pretend that all – or most all – Christians say the same thing about Jesus and His Word. At the same time confessional Lutheranism guards against unionism, however, it also stands against sectarianism. In other words, though Lutherans do not paper over differences between their confession of faith the confessions of other Christian communities, they also celebrate and affirm areas of agreement. Thus, Lutherans are very much a part of the wider Christian community, for they share many of the same theological commitments.
The most famous historical test case for the kind of confessional Lutheranism that abjures both unionism and sectarianism came in 1529 when Martin Luther and Huldrych Zwingli met at Marburg to discuss areas of agreement and disagreement between their two reforming movements. At Marburg, they discovered they agreed on fourteen articles of faith spanning from the nature of the Trinity to justification by faith to the role of governing authorities. But they could not agree on one point: the character of Christ’s presence in the Lord’s Supper. The dispute was formally summarized like this:
We all believe and hold concerning the Supper of our dear Lord Jesus Christ that both kinds should be used according to the institution by Christ; also that the mass is not a work with which one can secure grace for someone else, whether he is dead or alive; also that the Sacrament of the Altar is a sacrament of the true body and blood of Jesus Christ and that the spiritual partaking of the same body and blood is especially necessary for every Christian. Similarly, that the use of the sacrament, like the word, has been given and ordained by God Almighty in order that weak consciences may thereby be excited to faith by the Holy Spirit. And although at this time, we have not reached an agreement as to whether the true body and blood of Christ are bodily present in the bread and wine, nevertheless, each side should show Christian love to the other side insofar as conscience will permit, and both sides should diligently pray to Almighty God that through His Spirit He might confirm us in the right understanding. Amen.[1]
This is a masterful statement. Luther and Zwingli carefully avoid unionism by clearly, winsomely, concernedly, and lovingly explaining where they disagree, but are also in no way sectarian, for they commit themselves to “show Christian love” and “diligently pray to Almighty God that through His Spirit He might confirm us in the right understanding.” In other words, they unreservedly confess their positions while humbly asking the Lord to show them if and where they could be out of step with His Word. Here is confessional Lutheranism at its finest.
In a culture where truth is often either relegated to relativity or regarded as unimportant, confessional Lutheranism has not only much to say, but a time-tested strategy to offer. The ability to stand up for truth against error while also standing with the truth wherever it can be found is sorely needed not only in the Church, but in our world. So, as a confessional Lutheran, I will continue to be honest about areas of disagreement. But I will also never forget to look for areas of agreement. Finally, I will pray that those areas of agreement would continue to increase among others and myself until we all agree with Jesus. For agreeing with Him is what matters most.
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[1] Martin Luther, Luther’s Works, vol. 38, J. J. Pelikan, H. C. Oswald & H. T. Lehmann, eds. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1971), 88–89.
Common Questions: Lutherans and the Lord’s Supper
"Last Supper" by Pascal Adolphe Dagnan-Bouveret
A couple of weeks ago, a man came into my office wanting to know what Concordia Lutheran Church was all about. My answer? “Concordia is all about the gospel – that Jesus died on a cross in our place to forgive our sins, and there is nothing we can do to earn this forgiveness. Rather, it is received only by faith.” He seemed satisfied with my answer. But he had a follow up question: “I’ve heard weird things about what Lutherans teach about the Lord’s Supper. What does Concordia teach?” I surmised that this question was the real reason he stopped by my office. And I was happy to share with him what we teach about the Lord’s Supper. After all, this is not an uncommon question. Indeed, because it is so common, I thought I would address it in the “Common Questions” feature on my blog.
What do Lutherans teach concerning the Lord’s Supper?
Martin Luther himself summarizes the nature of the Lord’s Supper when he writes: “It is the true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, under the bread and wine, for us Christians to eat and drink, instituted by Christ Himself.”[1] In other words, we believe that when Jesus breaks bread and takes a cup of wine and says to His disciples, “This is My body” and “This is My blood” (Matthew 26:26, 28), Jesus means precisely what He says – the bread and wine are His true body and blood.
The classical term for this teaching is the “sacramental union.” Again, Luther clarifies this term well:
Out of two kinds of objects a union has taken place, which I shall call a “sacramental union,” because Christ’s body and the bread are given to us as a sacrament…Therefore, it is entirely correct to say, if one points to the bread, “This is Christ’s body”…Thus also it is correct to say, “He who takes hold of this bread, takes hold of Christ’s body; and he who eats this bread, eats Christ’s body; he who crushes this bread with teeth or tongue, crushes with teeth or tongue the body of Christ.” And yet it remains absolutely true that no one sees or grasps or eats or chews Christ’s body in the way he visibly sees and chews any other flesh. What one does to the bread is rightly and properly attributed to the body of Christ by virtue of the sacramental union.[2]
Thus, the sacramental union refers to the fact that Christ’s true body is present “in the bread, under the bread, with the bread”[3] and likewise with Christ’s blood and the wine.
What the sacramental union is not…
Because so many Christians teach so many things concerning the nature of the Lord’s Supper, it is important to briefly touch on some things which the sacramental union is not, lest there be any confusion.
The sacramental union is not transubstantiation
The Roman Catholic Church teaches that the bread and the wine in the Lord’s Supper cease to be bread and wine and instead become the body and blood of Christ. The Catechism of the Catholic Church summarizes transubstantiation:
By the consecration the transubstantiation of the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ is brought about. Under the consecrated species of bread and wine Christ Himself, living and glorious, is present in a true, real, and substantial manner: His Body and His Blood, with His soul and His divinity.[4]
Central to the doctrine of transubstantiation is an Aristotelian distinction between the “substance” of a thing and its “accident.” The “substance” of a thing is its fundamental essence. It is that which, if it ceases to be, the thing loses its identity. The “accident” of a thing is an attribute which may or may not belong to a substance without affecting its core essence.
The doctrine of transubstantiation teaches that, when a priest recites the Words of Institution at the Lord’s Supper, the substance of the bread and wine transform into the substance Christ’s body and blood and the bread and the wine are no longer essentially present. They are only outward, “accidental” forms. In this sense, then, the forms of the bread and wine are “faking us out,” for they are not really, essentially there. All that is there is Christ’s body and blood.
Luther responds to the doctrine of transubstantiation thusly:
The Evangelists plainly write that Christ took bread[5] and blessed it, and when the Book of Acts and the Apostle Paul in turn call it bread,[6] we have to think of real bread and real wine, just as we do of a real cup…Therefore it is an absurd and unheard-of juggling with words to understand “bread” to mean “the form or accidents of bread,” and “wine” to mean “the form or accidents of wine”…The church kept the true faith for more than twelve hundred years, during which time the holy fathers never, at any time or place, mentioned this transubstantiation (a monstrous word and a monstrous idea), until the pseudo philosophy of Aristotle began to make its inroads into the church in these last three hundred years.[7]
The sacramental union is not symbolism
There are many church bodies which teach that when Christ said, “This is My body” and “This is My blood,” what He really meant was, “This symbolizes my body” and “This symbolizes My blood.” For instance, “The Baptist Faith and Message” confesses, “The Lord’s Supper is a symbolic act of obedience whereby members of the church, through partaking of the bread and the fruit of the vine, memorialize the death of the Redeemer and anticipate His second coming.”[8] Notice that this confessional statement refers to the Lord’s Supper explicitly as “a symbolic act” and does not even make mention of Christ’s body and blood.
There are some who, holding to a symbolic understanding of the Lord’s Supper, accuse Lutherans of being anachronistic when we insist that the word “is” when Christ says “This is My body and “This is my blood” indicates that Christ’s body and blood are truly present with the bread and wine. One friend made this argument to me: “When I show you a picture of my family and say, ‘This is my family,’ I mean, ‘This is a picture of my family.’ When Jesus held up bread and wine, He meant to say the same thing: ‘This is a picture of My body and blood!’” I’ll grant that it would strain the bounds of good exegesis to base the doctrine of the sacramental union entirely on the word “is.” But Lutherans do no such thing. Rather, we take into consideration three additional factors. First, we take into account who is speaking these words. Because Christ is speaking these words, it is of no difficulty for Him to make His body and blood miraculously present in, with, and under the bread and wine. The difference between me saying, “This is a picture of my family” and Christ saying, “This is My body and blood” is the speaker! One speaker can work miracles and speak truth into existence. The other cannot. Second, we take into account how Scripture itself interprets these words. The apostle Paul indicates a lively confidence in the sacramental union when he asks, “Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ? And is not the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ” (1 Corinthians 10:16)? Paul believes that when we eat the bread and drink of the cup, we are actually participating with the body and blood of Christ. This hardly leaves room for a symbolic reading. Negatively, Paul warns, “Whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 11:27). Paul warns that partaking of the Lord’s Supper without self-examination and repentance (cf. 1 Corinthians 11:28) can lead to sin against Christ’s body and blood. How can such thing happen? Because in the Lord’s Supper, we actually receive Christ’s body and blood. Third, we take into account how the church has interpreted these words throughout the centuries. The Lutheran Confessions, in their defense of the sacramental union, cite the second century Christian apologist Justin Martyr:
This we receive not as common bread and common drink. We receive them as Jesus Christ, our Savior, who through the Word of God became flesh. For the sake of our salvation He also had flesh and blood. So we believe that the food blessed by Him through the Word and prayer is the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.[9]
Taking these three factors into consideration, then, Lutherans believe that we have solid Christological, exegetical, historical, and ecclesial grounds for interpreting Jesus’ words as we do.
The sacramental union is not just a spiritual presence
Calvinists will regularly teach that Christ’s body and blood are present in the Lord’s Supper, though only in a spiritual sense. Consider, for instance, this passage from Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion:
The presence of Christ in the Supper we must hold to be such as neither affixes Him to the element of bread, nor encloses Him in bread, nor circumscribes Him in any way (this would obviously detract from His celestial glory); and it must, moreover, be such as neither divests Him of His just dimensions, nor dissevers Him by differences of place, nor assigns to Him a body of boundless dimensions, diffused through heaven and earth. All these things are clearly repugnant to His true human nature. Let us never allow ourselves to lose sight of the two restrictions. First, let there be nothing derogatory to the heavenly glory of Christ. This happens whenever He is brought under the corruptible elements of this world, or is affixed to any earthly creatures. Secondly, let no property be assigned to His body inconsistent with His human nature. This is done when it is either said to be infinite, or made to occupy a variety of places at the same time.[10]
Calvin’s argument for a spiritual presence in the Lord’s Supper is this: Christ had both a human nature and a divine nature. His human nature is circumscribed by the normal spatial restriction that a person cannot be physically present in more than one place simultaneously. Therefore, Christ’s body, as part of His human nature, cannot be present in the Lord’s Supper, for Christ’s body is in heaven, seated at the right hand of God. Jesus can only be spiritually present according to His divine nature. Luther responds to such an argument thusly:
We merge the two distinct natures [of Christ] into one single person, and say: God is man and man is God…[You] will not and cannot prove that the two propositions, “Christ is in heaven, and His body is in the Supper,” are contradictory. So the words, “This is My body,” remain to us just as they read, for one letter of them is better and surer to us than the books of all the fanatics, even if they should fill the world with the books they write. Again, since they do not prove that the right hand of God is a particular place in heaven, the mode of existence of which I have spoken also stands firm, that Christ’s body is everywhere because it is at the right hand of God which is everywhere, although we do not know how that occurs. For we also do not know how it occurs that the right hand of God is everywhere. It is certainly not the mode by which we see with our eyes that an object is somewhere, as the fanatics regard the sacrament. But God no doubt has a mode by which it can be somewhere and that’s the way it is until the fanatics prove the contrary.[11]
For Luther, then, the sacramental union of Christ’s body and blood with the bread and wine in the Lord’s Supper is a Christological issue. The question Luther would have us ask is: “Do we believe that Christ’s body can be present in more than one place simultaneously, or do we insist on circumscribing His human nature by the space-time restrictions of our world?” How you answer this question reveals what you believe about what Christ, as both God and man, can and cannot do. If Christ from rise from the dead in both His human and divine nature, it is certainly not too difficult for Him to be present in the Lord’s Supper in both His human and divine nature.
Finally, Luther would remind us of the blessing of the Lord’s Supper:
The Sacrament is given as a daily pasture and sustenance, that faith may refresh and strengthen itself…For the devil is such a furious enemy. When he sees that we oppose him…he prowls and moves about on all sides. He tries every trick and does not stop until he finally wears us out, so that we either renounce our faith or throw up our hands and put up our feet, becoming indifferent or impatient. Now to this purpose the comfort of the Sacrament is given when the heart feels that the burden is becoming too heaven, so that it may gain here new power and refreshment.[12]
May you gain such power and refreshment from the Lord’s Supper, for in it, Jesus gives His body and blood – His very self – for you!
ABC Extra – Omnipresence and the Sacramental Union
Every time I teach on a text which sets forth the Lord’s Supper, I am always amazed by the “theological heavy lifting” that needs to be done. The debates over the Supper have raged so hot for so long that I always find it necessary to address these debates, all the while, trying to proclaim the clear words of Christ. Such was the case in the Adult Bible Class that I taught this weekend on Mark 14:22-24: “While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to His disciples, saying, ‘Take it; this is My body.’ Then He took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them, and they all drank from it. ‘This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many,’ He said to them.” The crux of the debate over Jesus’ words rests on His statements, “This is My body…This is My blood.”
In Adult Bible Class, I outlined three main positions that have been taken concerning Jesus’ words, “This is My body…This is My blood.” The first is the position of Transubstantiation which contends that the bread and the wine turn into the literal, real body and blood of Jesus and, thus, the bread and the wine are no longer present in the Sacrament. The second is the position of Symbolism which asserts that the bread and the wine are only symbolic of Jesus’ body and blood and Jesus’ body and blood are not literally, really present. The third is the position of the Sacramental Union which explains that when Jesus declares, “This is My body…This is My blood,” His body and blood becomes really, literally present along with the bread and the wine. The Lutheran position is that of the Sacramental Union.
While I spent a fair amount of time addressing the position of Transubstantiation in Adult Bible Class, I wanted to spend some time addressing the position of Symbolism in this blog. Interestingly, the main objection of those who hold to a Symbolic view of the Sacrament is that Christ is now seated at the right hand of the Father in heaven and so His body and blood cannot be on earth on church altars worldwide.
Lutheran theologians have traditionally responded to this objection by asserting a Christological tenet known as Genus Majestaticum, which states that since there are two natures in Christ – a human nature and a divine nature – the divine nature can affect the human nature in such a way that the human nature can do things which it would not otherwise be able to do. For example, a mere human could not walk on water, but because Jesus was both divine and human, He could. Or, a mere human could not rise from death, but Jesus, as both God and man, did! Luther used this understanding of the two natures in Christ to argue that even though Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father, His body and blood can still be on Christian altars because He, as God, is omnipresent, even if other humans are not, and indeed cannot be, omnipresent.
Luther’s primary antagonist in this debate, the great Swiss reformer Ulrich Zwingli, responded to Luther’s use of the Genus Majestaticum by saying that Christ’s body would then be in every piece of bread and even every corner of nature. This, of course, is pantheism and is a pagan, not a Christian, conception of God. Thus, according to Zwingli, Christ’s body and blood could not be with the bread and the wine. Luther’s response to Zwingli’s accusation of pantheism remains one of the finest defenses ever of the doctrine of the Sacramental Union in the Lord’s Supper:
It is one thing if God is present, and another if He is present for you. He is there for you when He adds his Word and binds Himself, saying, “Here you are to find Me.” Now when you have the Word, you can grasp and have Him with certainty and say, “Here I have Thee, according to Thy Word.” Just as I say of the right hand of God: although this is everywhere, as we may not deny, still because it is also nowhere, as has been said, you can actually grasp it nowhere, unless for your benefit it binds itself to you and summons you to a definite place. This God’s right hand does, however, when it enters into the humanity of Christ and dwells there. There you surely find it, otherwise you will run back and forth throughout all creation, groping here and groping there yet never finding, even though it is actually there; for it is not there for you. So too, since Christ’s humanity is at the right hand of God, and also is in all and above all things according to the nature of the divine right hand, you will not eat or drink Him like the cabbage and soup on your table, unless He wills it. He also now exceeds any grasp, and you will not catch Him by groping about, even though He is in your bread, unless He binds himself to you and summons you to a particular table by His Word, and He Himself gives meaning to the bread for you, by His Word, bidding you to eat Him. This He does in the Supper, saying, “This is My body,” as if to say, “At home you may eat bread also, where I am indeed sufficiently near at hand too; but…when you eat this, you eat My body, and nowhere else. Why? Because I wish to attach Myself here with My Word, in order that you may not have to buzz about, trying to seek Me in all the places where I am; this would be too much for you, and you would also be too puny to apprehend Me in these places without the help of my Word.” (AE 37:68)
Luther does not deny that Christ’s omnipresence allows Him to be everywhere at once, even, in my favorite line, in “the cabbage and soup on your table.” But this matters not to Luther. What matters to Luther is not just that Christ is present, but that Christ is present “for you.” For when Christ is present “for you,” He is present with His promise of forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation. And He is present in such a way in Communion, even as He promises: “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28). Christ has promised to be present with the bread and the wine for the forgiveness of our sins.
The point of all of the above “heavy theological lifting” is finally very simple: We can be comforted by Communion because Christ’s body and blood are as close as the bread and the wine. And as I mentioned in Adult Bible Class, that closeness is precious. Because whereas our sins against God and our betrayals of God separate us from God, He promises to come close by means of His holy meal. And I would have Communion no other way. For when I receive Communion, this is what I desire – to actually commune with God. To have Him close. And I know He is. For He has promised it.
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