Do you ever approach communion with the slightest sense of doubt? Wondering if you even deserve to clean up the crumbs much less partake in the feast? I have. I’ve allowed the plate to pass me by at times, feeling like I just can’t seem to get things “right.”
What I’m learning lately that so much that I think is up to me, isn’t really up to me at all. My job is to show up, pour myself out and ask God to do what only He can do in my heart. If I want anything to change, I need to give God all access to my heart because He has given me all access to Himself.
I’d like to invite you over to Trochia, a website I’ve begun writing for. I’m hoping that together we can contribute to a conversation about truth and a movement towards revival. Join me in praying, “let it begin with me.”
Recently as I was preparing to receive communion, I examined my heart as the scriptures direct when we come to the table. After asking God to show me what I needed to see, I began to think of the countless reasons I didn’t deserve to enjoy this feast.
I held the little cup in my hand stroking the sharp brim and rubbed the flat and dry cracker between my fingers and waited. I know I am not alone when I come to the table feeling like I’d rather clean up the crumbs than partake of it myself. But it occurred to me the people sitting around the table with Jesus the first time this meal was served, most likely would have said the same. If the disciples fully understood that they were being served more than just a good loaf of bread and a glass of wine, perhaps they too may have hesitated.