By Doug Redford

Peter Bronson, a former columnist for The Cincinnati Enquirer, wrote an item for the opinion page that appeared in the paper on July 31, 2005. He entitled it, “Country-road Therapy Soothes the Soul.” In it he wrote, “I’ve heard of physical therapy, occupational therapy, water therapy, and music therapy. I prefer country-road therapy. The prescription is simple: Take a full tank of gas and a summer afternoon, and just drive until the billboards are replaced by barns and the skyscrapers turn into silos.”

“When I had a motorcycle,” he continued, “I spent hours exploring country roads. Mostly I found another world, a place where garish neon signs and strip malls were as rare as freeways, street crime, and traffic jams. It’s still there, just a few miles out of the city—a place where God’s bounty overflows the landscape.”

I enjoyed reading and reflecting on Bronson’s words because they brought to mind the area in south-central Indiana where I grew up and where I always enjoy returning. To get away from Cincinnati, where I live, and be able to migrate to the slower, less harried pace of country life can truly serve as a kind of “therapy.”

There’s another therapy we experience when we approach the time of Communion—Calvary-road therapy. This therapy doesn’t require a full tank of gas to experience. In most cases we take a small cup of juice and a small piece of bread and we go back in our mind’s eye to travel the road that our Savior traveled to Calvary. We get away from the pressures, burdens, and temptations of living in a world infested by sin. We pause at the “rest stop” that Communion provides and find renewed strength and perspective for a new week.

We also reflect on the burdens that Jesus carried to Calvary. First there was the burden of taking his own cross to the place of his execution. Then, once he was nailed to it, he experienced the real burden—dying for the sins of all humanity.

Carrie E. Breck described this so well in a hymn, “Nailed to the Cross,” that my home church (a “country-road” church) often sang:

They are nailed to the cross,
They are nailed to the cross,
O how much He was willing to bear!
With what anguish and loss Jesus went to the cross!
But He carried my sins with Him there.

However this decrepit, sin-cursed world has battered our souls in the past week, there is nothing that can’t be soothed by the right kind of therapy—Calvary-road therapy.

Doug Redford is professor of Old Testament at Cincinnati (Ohio) Christian University.

By Jackina Stark

Scholars have suggested two details about the cross that I have found intriguing. One has to do with where the cross might have been placed. Some suggest it was not erected at the top of Golgotha but at the base. This is in keeping with crucifixions taking place in busy thoroughfares, but it puts the cross too close to an unconcerned, gawking public for my comfort. It puts it, for that matter, too close to me.

The second detail some scholars suggest is that Jesus might have been hung only a few feet above the ground. The imagery of “high and lifted up” is still appropriate, but Jesus might not have been nearly as high as I’ve always imagined, not nearly high enough, again, for my comfort.

No, these two suppositions make Jesus and all his suffering and shame much too close. But once I assimilated these propositions, I began to imagine a scenario that has blessed me. (Such imagining is the writer in me, I guess.) Actually, it is more an image than a scene, and I think of it most often when we partake of the Lord’s Supper.

I come to the foot of the cross and embrace the bloody body of Jesus. I stand there in that embrace, becoming bloody myself in the process, not saying anything, for speaking would be impossible. I just come, loving him and thanking him.

When this image is before me, I sometimes do more than wipe away tears. I recall the commitments Jesus made to God and man when he chose the cross—the commitment to do God’s will, to trust him, to love and care for others, to suffer when necessary, and to finish the task of redeeming us.

Such incredible commitments. Love compels me to make such commitments, or to try very hard to make them. Hope compels me as well—the hope of a second image.

I am standing on the hillside watching our victorious risen Lord ascend to his Father, knowing full well he will return for us. And when he does, shame and suffering and sorrow will be replaced with honor and glory and ecstasy. When I bring this image to mind, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

“Do this,” Jesus said, “in remembrance of me.”

When you partake today, remember images of incomparable sorrow and joy.

____________________

Jackina Stark is an author and retired English professor from Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri. Currently she lives in Branson, Missouri. Read another Communion meditation by her each Friday in September at this website.

 By Jackina Stark

It is said that John Milton, 17^th-century poet, arguably the greatest poet of all time, read everything of consequence in English, Latin, Greek, and Italian, and that he knew the Bible by heart. He wanted to use the greatest literary form, the epic, to honor the greatest kingdom and hero of all time.

In his unparalleled Paradise Lost (1667), he tried to explain something of God’s ways to man. In book three (of 12), Milton fictionalizes the moment Jesus makes his grand commitment to God and man.

God and the Son watch Satan, who is bent on revenge, fly to earth to find and ruin God’s beloved new creation. God tells the Son that justice demands that man must die for choosing disobedience, disloyalty, and treason—unless. This little preposition, unless, couldn’t be more important. It has made all the difference to Christians. Man must die,

unless for him

Some other able, and as willing, pay

The rigid satisfaction, death for death.

(Paradise Lost, Book 3, lines 210-212)

Then God asked if there were, in all of Heaven, one who would be “mortal to redeem Man’s mortal crime, and just the unjust to save.” Was there one with that much purity? Was there one with that much love?

And out of the silence of Heaven came our redemption as the Son of God spoke:

Behold me then: me for him, life for life

I offer: on me let thine anger fall;

Account me Man; I for his sake will leave

Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee

Freely put off, and for him lastly die

Well pleased; on me let Death wreak all his rage.

(Paradise Lost, Book 3, lines 236-241)

That’s how Milton imagined it. God’s Word doesn’t tell us how it was agreed upon. It simply tells us it was and that God sent his Son to be our sacrifice in order to restore us to himself.

But the cost was exorbitant.

See the sweat drops of blood on his forehead. See him facedown in the garden begging the Father to remove this cup of suffering and shame and separation and sin, and perhaps other agonies we cannot fathom or name. See him stagger up the road to Calvary, see him offer himself up to the cross, see him push up on his ragged feet to take enough air into his collapsing lungs to shout, “It is finished!” (John 19:30).

The songwriters are right. The cross of Christ is a rugged cross and it is a wonderful cross. If we remember nothing else, we should remember this.

________________

Jackina Stark is an author and retired English professor from Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri. Currently she lives in Branson, Missouri. Read another Communion meditation by her each Friday in September at this website.

By Jackina Stark

John Donne, 17^th-century poet and preacher, wrote some of the most beautiful poetry in the English language. His Holy Sonnet X, “Death Be Not Proud,” may be the greatest expression of Christ’s victory over death since Paul wrote, “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55).

When Donne turns to the issue of sin, his poetry isn’t always so victorious. In “Hymn to God the Father,” the speaker asks if God can possibly forgive all of his sin:

Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run,

And do run still, though still I do deplore?

This is only one of five groups of sins he catalogues. The groups are rather horrifying to read; it is too easy to see our own sins among them. At the end of the first two stanzas, one can almost hear Donne’s sigh:

When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,

For I have more.

The same man who wrote the confident line, “Death, thou shalt die” (His Holy Sonnet X), sometimes looked at the sin in his life and feared that sin and death might win.

Yet the great writer/preacher must have known well the second chapter of Hebrews. It tells us that by his death, Jesus destroyed Satan and freed “those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.” Then Jesus became our wonderfully “merciful and faithful high priest” to “make atonement for our sins” and “to help those who are being tempted” (Hebrews 2:15-18).

Our time of Communion reminds us over and over again, for we need reminding, that sin and death have been defeated. A passage in J.I. Packer’s book Knowing God (InterVarsity Press, 1993) explains that on the cross, the sinless Son did more than pay the debt for our sins. He also took on all God’s wrath in the face of that sin, averting it from you and me. He gave us peace with God. Packer cites John 20:19 and 20 as proof: Jesus appears to the disciples in the upper room after his resurrection and says, “Peace be with you!” Then he shows them “his hands and side,” and we know this is more than mere greeting. It is declaration, it is promise—we now have peace with God.

Focusing on Jesus ultimately helped Donne come to a triumphant resolution in the last lines of “Hymn to God the Father”:

But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son

Shall shine as he shines now and heretofore;

And, having done that, thou hast done,

I fear no more.

Shine he has; shine he will—the Lord’s table reminds us of this. And we fear no more.

________________

Jackina Stark is an author and retired English professor from Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri. Currently she lives in Branson, Missouri. Read another Communion meditation by her each Friday in September at this website.

By Mark S. Krause

What was your most memorable Lord’s Supper celebration? Recently I shared the table of the Lord with 800 believers at the International Church in Kathmandu, Nepal. These were mainly expatriates—Christians far from home who were hungry for the fellowship of Communion. It cheered my soul to be with believers who prized this moment so deeply.

Think back. What was a memorable Lord’s Supper for you? I can recall sharing at the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem on Resurrection Sunday, with a village church in Uganda, and with a great crowd at the North American Christian Convention. What occasion is impressed in your memory?

My most memorable Communion time was in my home church in Idaho, in a room behind the stage, a few minutes after my baptism. It was my first Communion. My mother and father were there, both now gone to be with the Lord. An elder of the church I loved deeply was there (he also is in Heaven now). This elder took the time to explain what Communion meant to me personally, while looking directly into my young eyes. The minister who immersed me was there, a man whose faith and life inspire me to this day.

I look forward to the day when I will fellowship with these four, and many others, at a heavenly banquet table, for I believe the Lord’s Supper is a foretaste of that glorious time.

Most of all, Christ was there. He promised he would be, and I know he was. Christ is the one I am called to remember at the Lord’s Supper. He was at all my most memorable celebrations (and at the ones I don’t remember). I always remember him when I eat the bread, for it represents his body broken for me. I remember Christ when I drink from the cup, for the fruit of the vine is the color of his blood, shed for me.

The Lord’s Supper is a time of fellowship, but it draws me to picture my Savior hanging on a cross, dying as an innocent man for the sins of the world. I remember. I will never fully understand his love for me, but I remember him and love him back. “Do this in remembrance of me” (1 Corinthians 11:24, 25).

I remember, Lord Jesus. I remember. Let us remember our Lord as we eat
and drink this day.

________

Mark S. Krause is academic dean and professor of biblical studies at Nebraska Christian College in Papillion. He is also a regular contributor to Standard Publishing’s Standard Lesson Commentary. 

By Mark S. Krause

Some in the church world today ask, “Why celebrate the Lord’s Supper every week?” In the Christian churches/churches of Christ, we celebrate the Lord’s Supper each Sunday because we find that pattern reflected in the early church described in the New Testament. While it is inevitable that the church has changed over the centuries, we believe there are basic patterns worth preserving, and this is one of them.

But this leads to a more basic question: “Why did the early church celebrate the Lord’s Supper every week?”

The answer is very simple, but it requires a different way of thinking for some Christians. Most believers are well acquainted with the church tradition and expectation of meeting together on the first day of the week. Local churches,   (the word literally means “those who gather together”), assemble on Sundays. But why?

Believers might give any one of many answers. Some might say they come out of habit but don’t really understand why. Others might say church is a chance to see friends. Some might cite their enjoyment of the splendid music. A few might even say they come because of the preaching. But in most Protestant churches, there would be little mention of the Lord’s Supper.

Yet meeting for the Lord’s Supper is exactly what the congregants of the early churches did. Why did they assemble on Sunday? They came together to participate in the great sacrament of fellowship, to commune together in the shared acts of the Lord’s Supper, to meet around the table of the Lord. In so doing, they were remembering the core beliefs of their faith: that Jesus died for their sins and rose on the third day.

It was not a passive experience. They did more than hear the spoken word. They remembered Christ’s broken body as their fingers touched the bread . They recalled Christ’s blood, shed for them, as their tongues tasted the wine. They celebrated the new covenant, the gracious invitation of God to believe in his Son and thereby be saved.

This is why it takes a new way of thinking, a paradigm shift, to understand the weekly celebration of the Lord’s Supper. The question is not, “Why do we have it every week?” The question is, “Why do we meet every week?”

We come to meet around a table of fellowship offered by Christ to all believers. If we sing a little, that is good. If we hear some Scripture read, that is good. If we listen to a choir sing a stirring anthem, that is good. If we give our tithes and offerings, that is good. If we are challenged by a helpful sermon, that is good.

But none of these things takes the place of the celebration of the Lord’s Supper, nor is any activity more important than partaking in Communion. Let us come to the table in joyful remembrance of our Savior. Let us come as the gathered body of Christ, the fellowship of the saved.

Mark S. Krause recently accepted the call to serve as vice president of academics at Nebraska Christian College, Papillion, Nebraska.

By Mike Shannon

One of the things we fear most is the loss of our memory. We get frustrated over even small memory lapses. It is such a devastating problem that much time, money, and effort go into solving the serious medical issues that contribute to loss of memory.

But what if it is not a medical problem? What if we deliberately forget or we forget out of benign neglect?

It is vital to Christians to always remember the meaning of the cross. How can we ever forget what Jesus did for us there? The early church was concerned about remembering, even in those early years. They met each Lord’s Day and partook of the bread and the cup to remember Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. We live 2,000 years later. It is even more of an issue for us to remember.

Jesus himself must have been concerned about our memory. Luke says, “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.’ In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you’” (Luke 22: 19, 20).

Paul must have been concerned, too. He writes about what Luke tells us and adds, “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Corinthians 11:26).

This aspect of the Lord’s Supper is so significant that frequently on Communion tables are engraved the words, “Do This in Remembrance of Me.”

Rudyard Kipling’s poems are largely ignored today because of their association with British politics and imperialism. Such is the case of his 1897 poem “Recessional,” written for the anniversary of the crowning of Queen Victoria. In that poem he laments that his country might forget its Christian heritage and the work of Christ. One verse transcends all politics and surely resonates with all Christians:

The tumult and the shouting dies;

The Captains and the Kings depart:

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Mike Shannon serves as professor of preaching at Cincinnati (Ohio) Christian University.

By Mark S. Krause

In Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy, he pictures the gateway leading into the Inferno (Hell) as being inscribed with these words:

Through me the way to the city of woe,

Through me the way to everlasting pain,

Through me the way among the lost . . .

Abandon all hope, you who enter here.1

When the church gathers, some come who have had their hopes crushed in the last week. A job may have been lost. Perhaps a home or a relationship has been lost. Various ones might have lost a battle for good health, a loved one, or basic self-respect. Most tragically, there may be some who have lost faith. The pervasive pessimism of our world may have finally won the day, and there may seem to be no more reason for hope.

The entryway to California’s Disneyland has this inscription:

Here you leave today

And enter the world

Of yesterday, tomorrow,

And fantasy.

Unlike Dante’s gateway, this is an opening that many who have gathered on Sunday wish they could enter. They want a place of fantasy, a harbor from life’s pain no matter how unreal it may be. They want to leave today and be in a better, more comforting place.

As we enter the church and gather around the Lord’s table, we find hope, but it is not fantasy. The author of Hebrews advises us, “Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful” (Hebrews 10:23, New Revised Standard Version). The Lord’s Supper is a remembrance of what Christ has done for us. It points us to his sacrifice on the cross that makes the forgiveness of our sins a reality. It leads us to fellowship with him, for he has promised to be with us when we gather. We have a hope that is not founded on fantasy, but on historic events. When we eat the loaf and drink the cup, we enter the fellowship of believers who have celebrated this meal faithfully for nearly 2,000 years.

As we come to this meal, may we think of the millions who have found relief from the harsh realities of life around the table of the Lord. May we remember that our God is always faithful. May our hope and faith not waver, but be strengthened. May we come from the table strengthened and refreshed, and able to endure another week of the tumults of life.

________

1Translation found at http://etcweb.princeton.edu/dante.

———-

Mark S. Krause is writing the Communion Meditations for August. Krause recently accepted the call to serve as vice president of academics at Nebraska Christian College, Papillion, Nebraska.

By Mike Shannon

One of the things we fear most is the loss of our memory. We get frustrated over even small memory lapses. It is such a devastating problem that much time, money, and effort go into solving the serious medical issues that contribute to loss of memory.

But what if it is not a medical problem? What if we deliberately forget or we forget out of benign neglect?

It is vital to Christians to always remember the meaning of the cross. How can we ever forget what Jesus did for us there? The early church was concerned about remembering, even in those early years. They met each Lord’s Day and partook of the bread and the cup to remember Christ’s sacrifice on the cross. We live 2,000 years later. It is even more of an issue for us to remember.

Jesus himself must have been concerned about our memory. Luke says, “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.’ In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you’” (Luke 22: 19, 20).

Paul must have been concerned, too. He writes about what Luke tells us and adds, “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Corinthians 11:26).

This aspect of the Lord’s Supper is so significant that frequently on Communion tables are engraved the words, “Do This in Remembrance of Me.”

Rudyard Kipling’s poems are largely ignored today because of their association with British politics and imperialism. Such is the case of his 1897 poem “Recessional,” written for the anniversary of the crowning of Queen Victoria. In that poem he laments that his country might forget its Christian heritage and the work of Christ. One verse transcends all politics and surely resonates with all Christians:

The tumult and the shouting dies;

The Captains and the Kings depart:

Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Mike Shannon serves as professor of preaching at Cincinnati (Ohio) Christian University. Find another Communion meditation by him each Friday in September at christianstandard.com.

By Mark S. Krause

Repentance is not popular today. One Internet blogger called repentance “the most unpopular message in the history of mankind.” Why is this? What is it about calling people to repent that rubs us the wrong way?

When he was about 4 years old, my son learned a painful lesson when he burned the tip of his finger on the cigarette lighter in my car. I was sorry, but knew his finger would heal (although he still bears a scar). He taught me a lesson about repentance a few days later. As I was washing the car in the driveway, he came out to help. Instead of grabbing a hose or sponge, he went to the car and kicked it, saying, “Bad car! You should sell it!” He had been burned, and his 4-year-old thinking believed the car was at fault. He wanted that car to be gone from his life.

We are always burned and damaged by sin. It warps our character. It causes spiritual pain. It ruins our relationship with God, leaving us scarred, alone, and helpless. But we return to our sins again and again. Even though our intellects may recognize the danger of sin, we are driven to enjoy its fleeting pleasures.

When we repent, we address the sin in our life head-on. We give it a kick, saying, “Bad car!” and resolve to remove it from our lives. We pray the prayer of the repentant tax collector who cried, “O God, I am such a horrible sinner! Even though I do not deserve mercy, have mercy on me!” (Luke 18:13).

When we do this, two things happen. First, God gives us spiritual power to have victory over sin. We are no longer alone in our battle. God will have mercy upon us. Second, we claim the promise of forgiveness for our sin. Repentance leads to the freedom of forgiveness. How can we feel forgiveness if we have not repented? If we are in denial about our guilt before God, how can we feel forgiven? How can we be free from the power of sin?

Paul advises that all who come to the Lord’s Supper should “examine” themselves (1 Corinthians 11:28). What can he mean but that we must look at our lives to identify the sin for which we should repent? Repentance is the heart of the Lord’s Supper. Forgiveness is the eternal throbbing of that heart, the covenant given through the blood of Christ shed for the forgiveness of our sins.

As we come to the table this morning, may we lay down all of our defenses and excuses when it comes to sin. May we have hearts of repentance. May we go from the table refreshed and forgiven.

Mark S. Krause is writing the Communion Meditations for August. Krause recently accepted the call to serve as vice president of academics at Nebraska Christian College, Papillion, Nebraska.

By Mark S. Krause

In the old Errol Flynn movie The Adventures of Robin Hood, there is a remarkable scene of revelation. Robin Hood has been fighting the injustice of evil Prince John, who was ruling England in the absence of his brother, King Richard the Lionheart. King Richard had gone to the Holy Land for a Crusade, and his whereabouts are uncertain.

Some believe him dead. However, Richard returns to England with a few men, incognito, in the dress of monks. Richard realizes his danger and decides to seek out Robin Hood in Sherwood Forest.

Still clad in monk’s robes, King Richard questions Robin until he is certain of his loyalty. Then, in a dramatic moment, Richard drops his robe and reveals his true identity by showing the royal coat of arms, the three lions of the king. Robin and his men bow in allegiance to their rightful sovereign. They know who their king is.

An even more remarkable scene occurs at the end of the Gospel of Luke. There, Jesus meets two of his disciples who are walking from Jerusalem to the nearby village of Emmaus. These disciples are deeply sorrowful because their Master, Jesus of Nazareth, was crucified a few days earlier. Luke does not give us details, but Jesus is incognito, unrecognized by the two. He is assumed dead, but in fact returned, risen from the dead.

Jesus talks with the unsuspecting duo, and eventually enters a house at their invitation. There they sit down to a meal. Luke tells us, “When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him” (Luke 24:30, 31, New Revised Standard Version). It is in the breaking of the bread that Jesus is revealed to them.

As we come to the Lord’s table, may we, too, have our eyes opened. May we not fail to recognize our King. We have longed for this all week and have anticipated this moment of fellowship. May we experience his presence as we come together to commune with our Lord in the sharing of this meal.

________

Mark S. Krause recently accepted the call to serve as vice president of academics at Nebraska Christian College, Papillion, Nebraska.

By Mark Atteberry

Some of Jesus’ parables are epic in scope, like one about the prodigal son. Others are quite short, like this one about a farmer and his two sons: 

“There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’ ‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went. Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go” (Matthew 21:28-30).

The kingdom of God is hindered by people like this second son, who say yes to God, and then don’t follow through. They say yes to faithful obedience, then choose compromise as soon as obedience begins to cramp their style. They say yes to generous giving, then rob their weekly offering to pay for some new bauble that has captured their fancy. They say yes to compassionate ministry, then decide the work demands more time, energy, or patience than they are willing to give. On any given Sunday morning, how many people do you suppose are sleeping in, playing golf, or lounging with the morning paper, who once said an enthusiastic yes to Jesus?

Experts tell us the word yes is one of the easiest words in the English language to say, even easier than the word no, which requires more facial muscles. What those experts fail to point out is that while yes is an easy word to say, it’s an extremely difficult word to keep saying. Feelings change, obstacles arise, and strength wanes. The first thing you know, our minds are filled with excuses and rationalizations.

The great thing about the Lord’s Supper is that it gives us all an opportunity to reaffirm our yes to the Lord Jesus. We do it by reflecting on his willingness to say the hardest yes in history—yes to the cross. When seen through the lens of the crucifixion, our excuses suddenly seem a lot flimsier, making even our hardest yeses seem a lot easier.

The crying need of today’s church is not for us to say yes to Jesus, but for us to keep saying it, day after day, week after week, year after year.

Mark Atteberry serves as senior minister with Poinciana Christian Church, Kissimmee, Florida.

By J. Michael Shannon

“I tell you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it anew with you in my Father’s kingdom” (Matthew 26:29).

We can understand when someone wants to celebrate the life of someone who had a great impact on our world. Consider Paul Bunyon, for example. Several communities in the upper Midwest celebrate the larger-than-life lumberjack. Contests and festivals honor him. Woodsmen compete, people play games, and there’s all kind of food. Here’s the problem: these activities and events commemorate a person who did not exist.

In Tampa, Florida, there is a huge annual festival called Gasparilla Days. People skip work and school. There are parties, a flotilla, a mock invasion in a real ship, and a giant parade. The celebration takes its name from a pirate named Jose Gaspar. The problem is Gaspar never existed either.

During Communion, we honor a person who most certainly existed. It is quite rare today to find anyone who does not acknowledge that Jesus lived. Even nonbelievers and Jesus’ enemies admit that he existed. When we come to the Lord’s table we commemorate someone who really lived. He walked our streets and breathed our air. He felt the heat on his face and experienced pain when he stubbed his toe. He felt temptations akin to ours, yet won the battles. He faced criticism and disapproval. Finally, Jesus went to a cross and really died.

Yes, he existed, but we believers go a step further. We not only honor One who existed, but One who still exists. We believe Jesus rose from the dead and lives forever and reigns at the right hand of the Father. He is present with us in the celebration, just as he promised. We also believe he will come for us and take us to our eternal home. Even there, we believe he will join us at the table.

While the way we celebrate might be quite different and simpler than other commemorations, it is real because Jesus is real and has a real impact on our lives.

________________

J. Michael Shannon is professor of preaching at Cincinnati (Ohio) Christian University.

By J. Michael Shannon

“Therefore, 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. A man ought to examine himself before he eats of the bread and drinks of the cup” (1 Corinthians 11:27, 28).

No one who visits Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, can leave unchanged. In a three-day period, two great armies struggled there in an epic conflict. There were approximately 50,000 casualties from both sides.

What makes Gettysburg significant today is that the entire town and county stand as a reminder of sacrifice. The region is filled with monuments, historical markers, and businesses related to the battle. There are 1,328 memorial markers. Nearly every aspect of that calamitous struggle is commemorated. People make pilgrimages to this city. It is considered by many to be hallowed ground. I suppose as long as that town stands, people will remember the battle.

When President Abraham Lincoln came to inaugurate a national cemetery in Gettysburg, he made a brief speech that has been memorized and analyzed for generations. Standing before the crowd he said, “We cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. . . . It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here . . .”

When we come to the Lord’s table, even though we will pray over the elements, there is a sense in which we cannot dedicate the bread and the cup. It is for us, when we eat the bread and drink the cup, to dedicate ourselves. We dedicate ourselves to promote the cause of him who died for us. We dedicate ourselves to continue his work. We dedicate ourselves to live a life pleasing to him. When we partake, we are on hallowed ground. That is why we dedicate ourselves.

_______________

J. Michael Shannon is professor of preaching at Cincinnati (Ohio) Christian University.

By J. Michael Shannon

“While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying ‘Take and eat; this is my body’” (Matthew 26:26).

At one time or another we all must deal with broken things. As children, we break toys. Later we deal with a broken car or a broken appliance. Occasionally we drop a cup or glass and it breaks. More significant is the certainty of broken relationships.

Broken things often tell a story of sorrow and disappointment, but there is also power and, occasionally, joy in what has been broken. Great power for good or ill can come from a broken atom. An archeologist may rejoice in the discovery of a broken jar.

There is beauty in the broken. Broken pieces of glass can be placed in a kaleidoscope that, when held up to the light, brings great pleasure. An artist can take pieces of broken tile and create a mosaic masterpiece.

There are power, joy, and beauty in the broken elements we encounter at the Lord’s table. First, there is broken bread, the product of crushing grain, at the table. Often, as part of the service, we ceremonially break the bread. Behind that image is the broken body of Christ. His bones were not broken, but his body was broken by the thorns, spear, and nails. Can we also see the broken heart of Jesus as he died for our sins?

And here we can remember our own brokenness. Our hearts may be broken as we ponder our own sins and consider the price Jesus paid for their remission. Our broken hearts will lead us to repent and seek God’s grace. When our hearts are broken, God can bring new power to our lives. When we experience forgiveness, there is new joy in our lives. When our broken hearts are given to God, he can make our lives beautiful again.

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J. Michael Shannon is professor of preaching at Cincinnati (Ohio) Christian University.

By Mark Atteberry

Every team and every player has a bad day now and then. No matter how good you are, sooner or later you’re going to get schooled by an opponent. When it happens, conventional wisdom says you should just forget about it and move on. But not everyone agrees.

Enter Pat Summitt.

From 1974 to 2012, Summitt coached the University of Tennessee Lady Vols basketball team to 1,098 wins, 16 SEC titles, and 8 NCAA Championships. If anybody knows what it takes to win, she does. (Summitt, who has Alzheimer’s disease, now serves as head coach emeritus.)

In 1988, her team was clobbered 97-78 by the Lady Longhorns from the University of Texas, one of the most lopsided losses in her coaching career. She didn’t just call it “one of those nights” and tell her players to forget it and move on. Instead, she had the score painted in huge orange letters on the training room wall. She put the score on T-shirts that she required her players to wear during practice. Coach Summitt was determined that her team would remember that awful night and find motivation in it.

Some terrible moments need to be forgotten. But make no mistake: some need to be remembered.

When we meet around the Lord’s table, it’s to remember the most terrible moment in history. Man has done some awful things, but nothing that can compare with his murder of the Son of God. The clank of hammer on spike as Jesus’ hands and feet were nailed to the cross is truly the sound of mankind hitting rock bottom.

Honestly, it might be easier just to put it out of our minds. In a violent world, we could surely do with fewer images of blood and suffering. But some terrible moments need to be remembered and the crucifixion surely belongs at the top of the list.

It’s the crucifixion that shows us the hopeless state of man.

It’s the crucifixion that shows us the infinite love of God.

And it’s the crucifixion that shows us what real obedience looks like.

As painful as it is to think about our Lord being killed, we need to do it often, for it is central to our faith and our future. Hebrews 9:22 says, “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.”

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Mark Atteberry is senior minister with Poinciana Christian Church, Kissimmee, Florida.

By Mark Atteberry

You probably don’t recognize the name Jacob German, but he should be famous. In 1899 he was the first to experience something that has become a common occurrence — so common I suspect most of the adults reading this have experienced it, probably more than once.

On May 20, 1899, German was stopped for speeding.

A taxi driver for the Electric Vehicle Company, German was tooling around New York City at the wildly inappropriate speed of 12 mph. People were aghast he would be so reckless. If they’d had driver’s licenses in those days, his almost certainly would have been revoked.

Unfortunately, people have been speeding ever since, and not just on the roadways. The pace of life in general has gotten so fast that terms like burnout and workaholic had to be invented because we had no way to describe the physical, emotional, and spiritual damage being done to people as a result.

There are many reasons to love the Lord’s Supper, but one of them surely is that it forces us to tap the brakes. When Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19), he was calling us to take our eyes off the road ahead—our hopes, dreams, plans, obligations, etc.—and cast them toward the rear. That in itself forces us to ease up on the accelerator just a little. Then, hopefully, as we think about his sacrifice, we begin to realize Jesus, who could have had a spectacularly successful career as a politician, motivational speaker, or circus performer, chose a cross. The fast lane to worldly success was stretching out before him, but he chose instead to walk the Via Dolorosa (the Way of Suffering) so you and I could be forgiven.

We need the Lord’s Supper to help keep us from speeding through life full-throttle. The crunch of bread between our teeth and the tang of juice on our tongues is our Lord’s way of reminding us that, ultimately, the race is not to the swift (Ecclesiastes 9:11), but to those who have been cleansed by the blood of Christ.

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Mark Atteberry serves as senior minister with Poinciana Christian Church, Kissimmee, Florida.

By Mark Atteberry

Toward the end of a lengthy prayer, shortly before his arrest, Jesus said, “I am praying not only for these disciples but also for all who will ever believe in me through their message. I pray that they will all be one, just as you and I are one—as you are in me, Father, and I am in you” (John 17:20, 21, New Living Translation).

Jesus prayed for unity among his people because he understood that bickering Christians preaching love would be about as effective in spreading the gospel as a 300-pound man recommending a new weight-loss program. Everybody knows inconsistency kills credibility. When what you’re doing starts conflicting with what you’re saying, you’re well on your way to becoming a laughingstock.

This, of course, is why Satan tries so hard to create disunity in the body of Christ. He knows that by turning Christian brothers and sisters against each other, he can make a bigger dent in the gospel’s credibility than a thousand atheists arguing against the existence of God. Research shows that if you ask 10 people why they don’t go to church, the majority will cite hypocrisy among Christians as a primary reason.

Our Lord, having prayed for our unity, obviously wants us to promote and guard it like a precious jewel, and that’s part of what we’re doing when we gather as a family around the Lord’s table. Yes, we’re proclaiming the Lord’s death until he comes, but we’re also proclaiming our solidarity. By eating the bread and drinking the juice together we are saying there is something that binds us that is greater than any differences we may have.

For this reason, I am certain that Satan hates the Communion service and can’t wait until it’s over. I can just imagine him cringing and fuming as this most unique expression of solidarity spreads up and down every row and touches every heart, healing wounds and melting differences along the way. It’s probably true that the church is never more right with God than during these few moments, and that Satan is never more impotent.

Some people say it’s possible to have the Lord’s Supper too often. They say it will become meaningless and ritualistic if we overdo it. Doesn’t that sound suspiciously like something the one who hates Communion would want us to believe?

I say we should seize and savor every opportunity to reaffirm our commitment to Christ and our love for each other.

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Mark Atteberry serves as senior minister with Poinciana Christian Church, Kissimmee, Florida.

By C. Robert Wetzel

Have you ever found yourself worshipping in a congregation in a country where you did not know the language? Perhaps occasionally you recognized a melody of a hymn and tried to sing the words that you associated with that tune. Or saw Scripture was being read, but could only guess what it might be by looking to see how the Bible was opened. Was it about halfway? Then maybe it was a Psalm. Was it near the back? Probably a New Testament reading. But what?

It becomes even worse during the sermon. Why is the preacher getting so excited at this point in the sermon? Or what did he say that caused everyone to laugh? Or why are there tears in his eyes and in the eyes of many of the listeners? And suddenly everyone is praying, and you missed the cue. When did he say, “Let us pray”?

But then attention is drawn to the Lord’s table. The cloth that covers the bread and the cup is removed. A passage of Scripture is read. You do not know whether it is 1 Corinthians 11 or Matthew 26 or some other appropriate passage that brings us to the table. But you know what is happening. The elder presiding takes the bread, and this may be done in many different ways, but when he prays you know the bread is being blessed. Then the cup is lifted up, or the tray is simply passed to one we would call a deacon.

But with whatever may strike us as novel in the way the Lord’s Supper is administered, we know fully what it is. And when we eat the bread and drink from the cup we know that we are one with the body of Christ that meets in this place, that we are one with the whole body of Christ wherever it may be meeting this day, that we are one with the body of Christ that lived before us and will come after us when we have joined the cloud of witnesses.

The Lord’s Supper is the international language of the church. And hence it is all the more important that we observe it regularly and in a manner that is faithful to the way our Lord instituted it.

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C. Robert Wetzel is retired chancellor of Emmanuel  Christian Seminary, Johnson City, Tennessee.

By Trevor Tolley

The emblems of the Lord’s Supper, the fruit of the vine and the bread, uniquely communicate the message of Christ’s death and resurrection. The emblems so perfectly illustrate the redemptive story that it smells of conspiracy. In other words, it seems Jesus did not choose, but instead created, the perfect emblems.

Have you ever considered the thought that the juice in a grape, if it remains in the grape, rots over time? But when, at just the right time, a grape is pressed or crushed, the juice can be put in a sealed container and preserved?

This idea brings three Scripture passages to mind:

• Isaiah 53:5 (a prophecy about Jesus’ death on the cross)—“But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” (author emphasis).

• Romans 5:6, 8—“You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. . . . But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (author emphasis).

• Ephesians 1:13, 14—“And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory” (author emphasis).

We know that, left to our own
power, we would rot spiritually in our sin. We know that in God’s perfect timing, he sent his Son, who was crushed on a cross and died for our
sins. We know Jesus did not stay dead, but rose from the dead and has given us the Holy Spirit as a seal guaranteeing that one day we also will rise from the dead.

It is fascinating how the process of producing the fruit of the vine tells the gospel story. This is one more reminder at Communion time of the goodness and greatness of our Lord.

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Trevor Tolley is a high school teacher at Tree of Life Christian Schools in Columbus, Ohio, and serves as an elder at Worthington (Ohio) Christian Church.