Loaded at the Last Supper
by Ken Werlein (1992, MDiv; 2002, DMin)
Growing up, I spent lots of fun time each summer out in West Texas. It’s where my grandparents lived. See, mom and her sisters grew up in the town called Big Spring, not far from Midland. So, all my cousins and my sister and I would reconvene out there for some fun each summer and swim and do all the other stuff grandchildren do.
But the high point of the trip became our annual family hike up the side of what they call “Scenic Mountain.” By Colorado standards, it’s more of a hill, but people in Big Spring know it’s a mountain in an otherwise flat land. The hike up to the top had a purpose; it was the reason we could hardly wait to get to one designated spot every year. It’s because all us grandchildren had together buried a treasure on the top of Scenic Mountain. Only we knew where it was.
Back then, we called it the treasure; it was really a time capsule. Inside this large thermos bottle were a bunch of smaller pill bottles from the pharmacy, and each had our name on it. In each little bottle were stuffed hand-written notes, where all us grandchildren would write each year about how old we were and what was happening in our 6, 8, 10, 12, and 14-year old lives. And before reburying it, we’d also insert a penny minted that year. Then we would seal it as hermetically as we could, and re-bury it for another year.
Well, over time, my grandparents went on to heaven, and we lost our purpose for reconvening in Big Spring. But awhile back, I happened to be in Midland for something, so of course I had to go to Big Spring and see if the treasure was still there.
Sure enough, it was! And when I unpacked the whole thing and found the pill bottle with my name on it, I opened it up and spread out all my little notes from childhood. I re-read every one of them, chuckling at the profundity of my childhood thoughts and evolving handwriting style. Decades had passed, but even as an adult, sitting there in our secret spot, looking through our treasure, it was like I was there again—as a child—with this flood of family memories. What had been real before, sort of became real again!
As I sat there, it all came clear to me: I finally realized what the treasure really was, and it wasn’t the stuff we buried in the ground year after year. The real treasure was the time we had spent together, enjoying one another and the memories we had made together. The buried treasure was just a physical, tangible representation of all that. It’s why we exchange wedding rings and receive diplomas and take photos—they’re all tangible markers of time, so we won’t ever forget the deeper realities they represent.
Jesus certainly understood this, and it’s why He did something so unique and clever and unforgettable the night before He went to the cross, when he was celebrating the Passover meal with his disciples—stacking new meaning on top of an already meaningful meal called Passover.
At one point during the meal, He took the bread and said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” (Don’t you know the disciples said, “What?” They’d had plenty of Passover meals, but never had heard that!)
“Do what in remembrance of you?”
“Eat the bread! It’s my body; I’m giving it for you. Eat it.”
Well, they were familiar with Jesus saying perplexing things, so they did, and went on with the Passover meal. Then later in the meal, He does ‘em another one: He takes the wine and says, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” Now that would have seemed really strange, especially to the Jews, whose holy law forbade eating or drinking blood.
Why did He do that? Because He knew we humans forget. He knew otherwise they would forget. I forget; you forget:
• I forget I’m forgiven! (And when we forget that Christ forgives, we’re burdened with guilt, condemnation, and depression—and that’s when we need to remember!)
• I forget I’m called to be a servant, and I try to set things up to go my way.
• I forget I’m part of a family, until I hear brothers in Christ like Bauta Motty preach about persecution in Nigeria. He’s family!
• I forget; and so do you.
But Jesus understood memory—that through creating a meaningful, tangible symbol, what was real once before, becomes real once again. And even if it wasn’t ever real to you before, it can be real to you now because the elements are shot through with His grace, and He is present with us through them, now. And this is why the Apostle Paul was so upset with the Christians in Corinth, Greece. He had lived with them for a year and a half and got them started; but several years later, after Paul had moved on, those Corinthian Christians had spiraled into a mess. Apparently, one of the places they were blowing it had to do with this meaningful moment called Communion (The Lord’s Supper, Eucharist):
• He says, “You guys are divided!”
• Specifically, the wealthy were banding together against the poor and the slaves and strategically getting there early, eating all the good food, and getting drunk and passing out before the other folks got to church. And Paul was saying, “This is not right!”
• Paul was saying, “You’re not remembering anything; you’re just going through the motions and calling it church!”
• “You’re desecrating what Jesus did for us.”
So Paul reminds them:
23-25 For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
Paul is saying, “Hey, that’s why He gave us the Lord’s Supper: to remember!”
Now I realize our context is different in many ways today to the context of the Corinthians, but there are some noteworthy similarities. I don’t know about here, but I know in Houston, any number of people come to our church and sit through a worship service—and even come to the Lord’s Table—but if they were to be honest, they’d have to admit:
“I’m just going through some motions; this isn’t really meaningful for me—either because I’ve never connected myself to Jesus Christ and what He did on the cross—or maybe I did, but since then, I’ve moved to a land far, far away from Jesus.”
“I’m not really remembering what the Lord did for me on the cross.”
“I’m here for more superficial reasons—to make my wife happy, or to make my parents happy that we went to church.”
“The truth is, when I come to the Lord’s Table, I’m not so much thinking about the nails He took for my sins; but rather, ‘I hope I look ok in these clothes.’”
If you were honest, you would have to admit you’re not celebrating that grace has covered you through turning your life over to Jesus Christ . . . so, we can’t claim to be that different from the Corinthians. The root of their problem was utter selfishness, and so is yours; and so is mine.
And Paul says there are strong consequences:
27-29 Therefore, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner . . . eats and drinks judgment on himself.
It says we’re supposed to examine ourselves so as not to come to the Lord’s Table in an unworthy manner. So what is a worthy manner? Ultimately, what makes a person worthy? Getting it right for an hour or two?
“I haven’t sinned in the last 6 hours, or maybe it was 12 or even 24 hours!”
“I haven’t sinned since this time yesterday—surely I’m worthy!”
No. Who is worthy of His grace? Let’s settle this once and for all: NOBODY is worthy to come to the table!
That’s why it means so much to us that He said, “Ah, but I want you to come!” Not because of anything WE did to become worthy of coming, but instead, because of what He did: Jesus came and lived the life you should have lived, and He died the death you should have died, and He conquered the grave you’ll never conquer—so that we might be showered by the grace and forgiveness that comes through trusting in Him, the only One who is worthy.
So how do we come? We come leaning all of our weight desperately and gratefully upon Him, the One who takes away the sin of the world.
It was brilliant that Jesus took physical, tangible elements of food and gave them a unique spiritual meaning, promising even to be WITH US through His very presence every time we partake of it—so that we Christians, all over the world, might never forget the deeper reality it represents. It all comes rushing back!
Years ago, when I was 18, my dad and I drove a rented car/trailer and drove 14 hours together, with lots of time to talk and reflect on my life to that point. We unpacked it all then, and after he helped me get all settled into my college dorm room, it came time for him to head for the airport. As we walked together down a sidewalk I would use frequently, Dad did something I’ll never forget: He was chewing a piece of gum, and when we came to one of those great old oak trees, he stopped, put his hand to his mouth, and put the chewed gum in his hand. He then reached up to a limb about 7½ feet high on that tree and stuck that gum on the top side of that limb, not conspicuously so as to litter, but just visible enough that if you knew right where to look, you could see it.
I’m thinking, “Dad, what are you doing? There’s a receptacle right here.”
He replied, “Son, I was just thinking of how proud of you your mom and I are, and about how much I’ve enjoyed our time driving up here together. For years we’ve been praying that you would grow like Jesus did—‘in wisdom, and stature and favor with God and man’—and you have. And you still are. And you still will be. So now it’s time for you to be on your own. But more than the courses you take or the grades you make, stay close to Jesus, Son, and He’ll make your path straight. And every day when you walk by this tree, you can look up here and see this piece of gum, and it’ll just be a little reminder of this moment, and of how much your mom and I love you, and of who you are—and Whose you are.”
And sometimes when I started to forget those things, as every college student does to some extent, invariably, the Lord would lead me down that sidewalk beside that tree. It was a tangible marker in time that carried with it timeless loads of meaning for me, and it brought to my mind what I most needed to remember. And the Lord gave us one even better! And in a moment, we’ll come together—and remember!
Thanks, Ken. Good to know you’re still seeing life and faith with a keen eye and a steadfast heart, as you always did back in the day.
This was a very inspiring and uplifting post! Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us. To walk with the lord, we have to remember to do so as well.
Thank you for sharing information.
but to be experienced and wise enough to teach others how to do the same is very inspirational!