Most Sundays we go to Church and take communion, we "remember Jesus". It's what he wanted, right?
17 After taking the cup, he gave thanks and said, “Take this and divide it among you. 18 For I tell you I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.”
19 And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”
Lk 22:17-19
In my spiritual moments, I wish I was at that table, and years later, I would remember my dinners with Jesus, how he would break bread, and make us drink from the same glass. And I would remember how he healed my friend, and probably me at some point, and how he rebuked me and laughed at my ideas of heaven.
But I wasn't there. It was roughly 2000 years before my time.
I so appreciate the brothers who give thought to new ways of softening my heart before I take bread and wine in His name. Today's sermon was so moving, it actually moved me to do something. Like, pick up this blog again after weeks - months! (I'm sorry!)
But Jesus gave us communion - breaking bread and drinking the wine - because it is a normal thing to do at dinner; and a simple gesture, like having dinner with other believers, would spark a memory, and somebody would say:
"Hey guys, remember when Silvija told Jesus she wanted to fly?"
Everybody would break into laughter. And then somebody else would say:
"Yeah, she thought faith would give her wings or something, haha!"
And:
"And then Jesus grounded her!"
And next:
"Oh, right. 'Sure, why don't you shave your hair off and see if you grow feathers, Sil!' "
More laughter, then:
"Or, 'Why don't you just climb on top of the temple and jump off, Sil!"
Laughing stops. Not funny. And then I would hear this gentle voice in my head: "God has even greater plans for you than flying. You'll see."
And I would smile and say, "Yes, I remember. He gave me so much more than that." And then I would bite into the gluten-free bread and take a sip of wine, and not worry about all the people who drank from this glass before me, because it wouldn't matter. And some more stories would come up.
And then I would say: "Actually, I did fly." Silence. "In a glider. it's amazing, just the whistling of the wind around the cockpit, and blue sky, a little rounder than it looks from the ground." More silence.
"And I'm sure that if it wasn't for Jesus, I wouldn't be there on the right place at the right time, to have this experience. I didn't think of it at the time, but I'm sure it was Jesus."
Somebody says 'Amen', and I continue:
"But the peace that Jesus gives me in the most stressful situations is beyond compare, I wouldn't trade it for any experience of flying, ever."
Jesus wanted us to remember him. And it seems that in order to have memories of him, we need to make memories with him. Have personal history together. Bring him into the situation we are in. Acknowledge his presence and help. Hear his voice. After all, we have given our lives to him, and he knows how we can make the best of the new ones.
Jesus has given us something to remember. We have given him our lives. The question is, are we living this new life with him? Or is our only memory of Jesus what he did for us by dying on the cross?
I believe in Jesus that lives. I believe he is present in my life and takes active part in it. I don't want the cross to be my last memory of him, but rather the first of many.
How about you?
