By Greg Swinney

We can’t drive very far before seeing a road sign giving us a warning or directions. Yield, One Way, and Stop Ahead signs are all intended to help us arrive at our destination safely. Although four-way Stop signs are designed to direct traffic and help us avoid collisions, they may also offer a spiritual picture as we gather to share in the Lord’s Supper. Four-way Stop signs direct us to look in all directions at an intersection, and the Bible offers similar instructions at the table.

We are directed to look inward: “Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink from the cup” (1 Corinthians 11:28). Looking inward at our spiritual condition opens our eyes to see our need for his grace.

We are instructed to look outward: “For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves” (1 Corinthians 11:29). We are pointed to see the body of Christ and remember the needs and testimonies of those near to us.

We are told to look forward to Christ’s return: “I tell you, I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom” (Matthew 26:29). Sharing in the Lord’s Supper reminds us a day is coming when we will join in the wedding feast of the Lamb and Jesus himself will be present.

And perhaps most importantly, we are told to look backward: “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’” (Luke 22:19). The emblems of Christ’s body and blood are a visual reminder of his sacrifice on our behalf.

Just as four-way Stop signs urge us to look in all directions, the Lord’s Supper today admonishes us to see the eternal significance of this special meal and look inward, outward, forward, and backward. In this moment, our physical life intersects with a spiritual road that beckons us to stop and take a good look around. Which direction do you need to look today?

________________

Greg Swinney serves as ministry facilitator with Crossroads International Student Ministries, Kearney, Nebraska.

By Greg Swinney

Advertisers for software applications constantly remind us “There’s an app for that!” A simple Internet search will find more than 200 million websites with apps for everything we need—computer games, grocery shopping lists, gasoline prices, travel maps, and more. Floating messages across a crowded computer screen try to convince us there’s an app for every need of our lives. Still, can a multicolored icon on an iPad or smart phone really meet our deepest need?

Our struggles with past failures and shortcomings seem to haunt us. Sometimes doubt threatens our certainty of God’s unconditional love for us. What about our hope for an eternal home with a loving Savior? These thoughts drift into our minds and we secretly wonder, Is there an app for that?

There’s good news for each of us today, but it’s not found on a computer screen. God has provided an “app” for our hearts that meets our deepest need. The Lord’s Supper brings us a weekly reminder of the sacrifice of Jesus for our sins, our complete forgiveness through his grace, and his unselfish love for each of us.

Our need for his grace and the reality of our forgiveness is not met through the flickering pixels of a computer screen, but through the personal sacrifice of Jesus as represented through these emblems of his body and his blood. Powerful words from Hebrews 9:14 compel us, “How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death,
so that we may serve the living God!”

The words of an old hymn written by Elisha A. Hoffman in 1878 (long before computer programs) remind of this “app” today.

Down at the cross where my Savior died,

Down where for cleansing from sin I cried,

There to my sin was the blood applied;

Glory to His Name!

Today, let’s give him the glory due his name for all he did for us through his personal sacrifice for us on the cross. As we share in the loaf and the cup, let’s thank him for meeting our deepest need.

________________

Greg Swinney serves as ministry facilitator with Crossroads International Student Ministries, Kearney, Nebraska.

By Greg Swinney

Several international students were traveling together to the Rocky Mountains for a weekend excursion during their university’s fall break. In preparation for the trip, they read travel magazines and browsed websites that described the grandeur of the mountains. Inside the church van, the international students asked their American friends about the elevation, climate, and vegetation of the Rockies. The excitement was contagious as the van motored west.

As the van crested a small hill, the students got their first glimpse of the mountains in the distance. They grabbed their cameras and noisy conversations stopped. Most students were overcome with a spirit of quiet awe and wonder.

We may experience similar feelings as we gather around the Communion table today. We’ve read meaningful Scripture passages and we’ve talked about the spiritual significance of this sacred meal. Seeing the Lord’s Supper from a distance helps us appreciate the mystery of the crucifixion of Christ. In reality, the closer we get to the sacrifice of Jesus, the more we are driven to respond in awestruck silence. The table that represents his broken body and the shed blood openly displays the grandeur of God’s unconditional love through the gift of his Son. As Psalm 46:10 advises, “Be still and know that I am God.”

The sacrifice of Jesus is before us today. It’s no longer at a distance. It’s up close and personal. As you respond in quietness and humility, would you invite the Lord to impress upon your heart the height of his love for you? Would you ask him to help you comprehend the grandeur of his majestic grace? Most of all, take some time to humbly “be still and know that he is God.”

________________

Greg Swinney serves as ministry facilitator with Crossroads International Student Ministries, Kearney, Nebraska.

By Victor Knowles

“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? Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all share the one loaf” (1 Corinthians 10:16, 17).

If there is ever a time to be truly thankful, it is when we gather around the Lord’s table to remember Jesus Christ.

Our Savior instituted the Lord’s Supper during the Passover meal. The third cup in the meal was called “the cup of thanksgiving.” Some translations call it “the cup of blessing.” In the “Doxology,” we sing these familiar words, “Praise God, from whom all blessings flow.” In our text, Paul is reminding the Corinthians the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks is a participation in the blood of Christ. That blood, which flowed from Christ on the cross on our behalf, is the greatest blessing we could ever receive from God.

“Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!” (Matthew 27:40). Where would we be if Jesus had heeded the cry from the crowd and come down from the cross? It was the blood of Christ that accomplished our redemption and gave us forgiveness! “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace” (Ephesians 1:7). That is why we call the Communion cup “the cup of thanksgiving” or “the cup of blessing.” That is why we also sing: “Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing Thy grace.”

The bread we break today is also a participation in the body of Christ. The New Living Translation of 1 Corinthians 10:16, 17 puts it this way: “And when we break the bread, aren’t we sharing in the body of Christ? And though we are many, we all eat from one loaf of bread, showing that we are one body.” Thanksgiving Day is when the family gathers as one around the table to participate in a meal. The Lord’s Supper is when the family of God gathers around the table to give thanks for our redemption and forgiveness, remembered in the bread and “the cup of thanksgiving.”

Let us give thanks.

Victor Knowles is founder and president of POEM (Peace on Earth Ministries), Joplin, Missouri.

By Victor Knowles

Bread has been called “the staff of life.” I loved bread as a young boy. Some of the brands of bread I remember my mother buying were Sunbeam, Butternut, Roman Meal, and Wonder. I still love bread. Bread makes the world a better place.

The first mention of bread in the Bible is in Genesis 3:19, “In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” (New King James Version). The Romans perfected the art of making bread. The process of making bread begins by crushing grains of wheat. Jesus said, “I am the bread of life.” Our Lord understood the awful implications of that statement. Isaiah prophesied, “He was crushed for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5).

At the institution of the Lord’s Supper, Jesus “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’” (Luke 22:19). Jesus is the true Wonder bread. It is a wonder he left Heaven to come to earth and give his life a ransom. It is a wonder he referred to himself as the bread of life, when he knew his life would be crushed. It is a wonder he went to the cross to atone for our sins, when he himself was without sin.

Another wonder to consider is how Paul likens the church to “one bread.” “The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ? For we, though many, are one bread and one body; for we all partake of that one bread” (1 Corinthians 10:16, 17, New King James Version). When Israel came out of Egypt in the exodus, they came out as a united people. When Christians observe the Lord’s Supper, they show their unity in Christ. “For you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). This is the second wonder of Communion.

________________

Victor Knowles is founder and president of POEM (Peace on Earth Ministries), Joplin, Missouri; www.poeministries.org.

By Victor Knowles

Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross! (Philippians 2:6-8).

Communion is an incredible story of condescension. The Christ, the Son of the living God and the creator of the cosmos, condescended first to a lowly manger and then to a rugged Roman cross. It never happened before and it will never happen again. When we break the bread and drink the cup, we are reenacting the greatest love story in the world.

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:6-8).

No king, queen, president, prime minister, chancellor, czar, sultan, or sovereign would ever condescend to do what Jesus did for you at Calvary. The creator of the universe stepped down to earth that we might step up to Heaven. His downward mobility made our upward mobility possible. He emptied himself that we might be full. He died on a cross so that we could live in a mansion.

No one ever cared for you like Jesus. No one has ever loved you so much that he would die for you, making atonement for your sins. Remember that today, as you partake of these sacred Communion emblems.

What condescension,

bringing us redemption;

That in the dead of night,

Not one faint hope in sight

God, gracious, tender,

Laid aside His splendor

Stooping to woo, to win, to save my soul.

O how I love Him! How I adore Him!

My breath, my sunshine, my all in all.

The great Creator became my Savior,

And all God’s fullness, dwelleth in Him.

(“Down from His Glory” by William E. Booth-Clibborn).

________________

Victor Knowles is founder and president of POEM (Peace on Earth Ministries), Joplin, Missouri; www.poeministries.org.

By Victor Knowles

When I was a little boy my parents bought a Christmas manger set. On the box were these words: “The Christmas story in beautiful cutout scenes and lifelike figures . . . It tells the Christmas story . . . Fascinates young and old.” I remember how special it was to assemble the cardboard set on Christmas Eve. I would lie on the living room floor, face in hands, and gaze at those familiar figures for hours.

In the background was the little town of Bethlehem. To the left were the shepherds, with one little “adoring child” kneeling in reverence before the Christ child in the manger. To the right were the richly dressed and multicultural wise men, bearing their gifts. Behind Joseph and Mary stood a cow and a donkey, suspending their grazing in favor of gazing. Above the little wooden shelter was the star of Bethlehem. You could insert a Christmas tree bulb in the opening of the stable roof to add a lighting effect.

My favorite figures were not the camels, impressive though they were. Nor were they the gazing donkey and cow. There were also two grown sheep and one little lamb. And that lamb was my favorite of all. I loved that little lamb.

As I grew older I learned just how appropriate it was for that lamb to be included in the Christmas manger set. In Scripture, Jesus is described as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29)! In fact, the Bible declares Jesus is “the Lamb that was slain from the creation of the world” (Revelation 13:8). God’s divine plan of salvation, from the very beginning of time, included our sins being covered by the blood of the Lamb—Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God.

I never realized, as a little boy, how significant it was when I got to help assemble the Christmas manger set. The printed instructions on the flat portion of the landscape read, “Insert sheep and lamb here.” That is precisely what God did at Bethlehem when the little lamb, the Son of God, was born; and that is what God did at Calvary when the grown-up Lamb of God died on the cross for our sins.

I still have Christmas manger set (No. 743), box included, and I still set it up every Christmas. The cardboard little lamb, now more than 50 years old, is still my favorite—because of its messianic meaning.

As we partake of the broken bread and the crimson cup today, let us give thanks for the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.

Victor Knowles is founder and president of Peace on Earth Ministries, Joplin, Missouri.

By Rick Chromey

Blood is indispensable to life. The average human holds 10 pints of blood, which transports oxygen to our body, battles disease, and removes harmful toxins. Blood coagulates and helps form scabs to heal wounds. Recently, science has attempted to create synthetic blood, but there’s simply no substitute for this uniquely divine liquid.

Blood is part of our cultural vernacular. It’s in the blood. We’re blood brothers. Blood is thicker than water. Bad blood. Hot-blooded. Sunday, bloody Sunday. Historically, blood sealed contracts, confirmed friendships, and solidified treaties. Today, blood is often the clue that solves crimes through DNA forensics.

Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ was the first Jesus-oriented film to receive an R-rating due to its mature content. Gibson’s film portrayed a bloodied Jesus, viciously beaten and gruesomely executed. The gory drama caused many viewers to wince, squirm, and shut their eyes. Blood shocks and even sickens.

But when Christ came as high priest . . . he went through the greater and more perfect tabernacle that is not made with human hands. . . . He did not enter by means of the blood of goats and calves; but he entered the Most Holy Place once for all by his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. . . . How much more, then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God! (Hebrews 9:11-14).

It’s hard to imagine in our sanitized 21st-century world, but first-century Jews were used to blood-soaked worship. Blood was the entrance fee. Blood was a blessing. The temple was a blood-stained place to sacrifice beast and bird. The priests were baptized in blood. In fact, a specially designed shaft channeled sacrificial blood into the Kidron Valley, creating a blood river during Passover.

The Hebrew writer argues Jesus’ blood proves wonderfully different. It’s both divine and human, a distinctive cocktail of DNA able to forgive, cleanse, and empower. As the old hymn states, “There’s pow’r in the blood . . . wonder-working pow’r!” It’s why Jesus commanded his disciples to regularly reminisce on his sacrifice. The Lord’s Supper is bloody. The cup of the new covenant is blood. The bread represents his bloody, broken body.

But without Jesus’ blood there isn’t LIFE. His blood offers forgiveness, power, and hope. In our baptism we were transfused with his life-giving blood, and in this weekly celebration
we now remember and express gratitude.

Rick Chromey is a motivational speaker, writer, and online professor with Hope International University, Fullerton, California.

By Rick Chromey

Cats and dogs are radically different beasts.

Perhaps you’ve heard this joke: Dogs say, “You pet me, you feed me, you shelter me, you love me, you must be a god,” while cats say, “You pet me, you feed me, you shelter me, you love me, I must be a god!”

Maybe that’s why God gives cats nine lives. They need a bit more grace for such foolish thinking. Nevertheless, a dog is loyal to a fault, protects the master, and loves to be petted. You call a dog by its name and it comes running, eager to lick you all over. A cat may hear its name but behaves indifferently. A feline will lick your toes and what’s left in the cereal bowl, but if you’re not necessary to that moment, you really don’t exist. A dog snoozes at your feet, but a cat sleeps on your head. A master can train a dog, but a cat trains his master.

You might say dogs need a lord while cats need an entourage.

Depending on your affection for dogs or cats, you may find these traits attractive or repulsive. And yet, many of us, especially at this time around his table, behave more like a cat. We drink from the cup and swallow the bread with little regard or reflection. We are preoccupied by what’s for lunch or where’s so-and-so. We allow critical thoughts about a song, a person, or an activity to control our mind. In a sense, we allow disunity and distraction to detour our worship.

Such things are not new temptations for Christians who gather for this ancient meal. Paul criticized the Corinthian congregation: “I have no praise for you, for your meetings do more harm than good. In the first place, I hear that when you come together as a church, there are divisions among you” (1 Corinthians 11:17, 18). Division and double-mindedness are the nemesis to Communion. The Lord’s Supper, using ordinary elements that anyone can purchase, is a unity meal and a common feast for all believers.

And yet it’s an extraordinary, intimate, personal worship experience.

Do you approach this meal like a dog or cat? Are you relying upon grace or nine lives? Is Christ your Lord or just an entourage of many “gods” you’ve befriended? Do you long to lie at the Master’s feet or flick your tail and do it your own way? This meal is a pack meal. We are one church, gathered together with one purpose under one Lord through one baptism.

And maybe that’s also why God spelled backward is “dog.”

________________

Rick Chromey is a motivational speaker, writer, and online professor with Hope International University, Fullerton, California.

By J. Michael Shannon

The Christian world has long been fascinated with the cup of the Last Supper. One legend says that Joseph of Arimathea took the cup to England. There, it seems to have gotten mixed up with grail legends and become a part of the King Arthur stories. Dozens of churches claim to have the cup. A seventh-century legend says the cup was at one time in a church in Jerusalem. It was described as a two-handled silver chalice. In Genoa, Italy, there is a hexagon-shaped cup made from green glass that some thought was an emerald. In Valencia, an ancient hemisphere-shaped cup made from red agate was thought to be the chalice. Antioch had a silver cup that found a home in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, though it no longer is believed to have been from Jesus’ final meal.

People obviously would love to see the original chalice. An item with that kind of history would be treasured. It’s interesting that all of these chalices were quite ornate. Research reveals there are Communion chalices and cups made of gold, silver, wood, plastic, and even paper. Dr. David Grubbs, a retired missionary doctor and former college president, tells of receiving Communion in Africa from a cup made with dung.

In the end, it is not important what the original cup was made of, or if it can ever be found. More important than the cup itself are its contents, and even more important is what those contents represent.

Paul calls it a cup of thanksgiving (1 Corinthians 10:16), and indeed, we are thankful. Some translations call it a cup of blessing, and indeed, we are blessed. The content of the cup is the fruit of the vine, which reminds us of the blood of Christ. The blood of Christ was shed for the remission of our sins. It was shed by Jesus of Nazareth, Messiah, Lord, and Son of God.

That makes the cup beautiful, what-ever it looks like. That makes the cups we use beautiful, whatever they look like.

J. Michael Shannon serves as a professor at Johnson University, Knoxville, Tennessee.

By Tom Lawson

Right now, in this time of worship, it is easy to forget how much violence there is outside these walls. We come into this welcoming place, we sing songs of praise, we greet friends and visitors, and we come to the time of Communion. All very nice and so very far removed from all the ugly that’s out there.

It’s surprising, then, to consider for a moment that this brief meal is all about . . .

• a human body broken.

• human flesh torn and bleeding.

• an innocent man hanging by nails in unimaginable agony.

• slow and painful death before a largely uncaring and mocking crowd.

It is a scene so violent we would cover our children’s faces and turn our own eyes away in shock. Behind and within this meal is terrible violence.

I know that seems far removed from this quiet moment in worship. But Communion is rooted and wrapped in terrible violence.

You see, God has not called us here to worship in order to insulate us from violence. Church is not a hideout from the harsh realities of suffering and a cold, cruel world. Each week we are confronted by a great and terrible truth: Our king was hated. Our Lord was beaten. Our best friend was murdered. And none of us, not a single one of us, who decides to align ourselves with this king and Lord can ever think we can be safe from mockery, hatred, and even violence.

Every single day, now more than ever, people are still out there doing violence against our king by mocking or beating or murdering the children of the king. The age of martyrs is not some distant century of swords and crosses. It is the age of social media, YouTube, AK-47s, and Islamic terrorists. The blood of the martyrs is not found on the pages of dusty old books about ancient history; it meets us every time we watch the news or go online.

It is understandable we’d like to come here and not think about it. We’d like to imagine we can all be safe and comfortable, knowing we’ll all sleep tonight snug and safe with our own families in our own homes. But, then, we come to this quiet moment each Lord’s Day—a moment when we are forced to acknowledge the very center of our faith in the love of God seen most clearly only in the midst of a swirling sea of hatred and violence leading from Gethsemane to Golgatha.

The writer of Hebrews brings us face to face with the same reality: “So Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people through his own blood. Therefore let us go to him outside the camp and bear the reproach he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come” (Hebrews 13:12-14, English Standard Version).

To share in this meal is to sit at both the king’s table and the blood-soaked table of martyrs. To share in this meal is to commit ourselves not only to share in his love, but to also embrace our share of the rejection, the hatred, and maybe even the violence he endured. To an outsider or the uninformed, it seems nothing more than a safe religious action, something church people like to do on Sunday to remember they are loved. But, and I want to make this very clear, it is also something to do to remember how much we are hated.

We are the servants of a murdered king, the children of a rejected Savior, the followers of one who was despised and rejected by men. We do not come here to hide from violence, but to commit ourselves to stand with our brothers and sisters who will suffer and die this very week at the hands of violent men. We are, all of us here, remembering his body broken and blood spilled, and commit ourselves anew to be worthy children of such a king.

Tom Lawson is a professor at Ozark Christian College in Joplin, Missouri.

By Mark Krause

One of Paul’s names for Communion is the “Lord’s table” (1 Corinthians 10:21). It is impractical for most churches today to celebrate the Lord’s Supper by sitting at chairs around a large table. Yet the table is an important symbolic element to our understanding of the Supper.

Table fellowship is a powerful thing. We do not normally sit down to eat at a table with random strangers or with enemies. We like to take our meals with family and friends. When we celebrate Communion, we reenact a meal with other people, and these are people with whom we want to eat.

There are many kinds of tables in our homes today. Which is the most like your celebration of the Lord’s Supper? For example, some homes have a pool table in the family room. Is your partaking of Communion just a game, just a mindless break in the monotony of life?

Many homes have a workbench in the garage that is the center of various projects. Its counterpart is the sewing table, perhaps piled with garments yet to be finished or needing repairs. Is your celebration of the Lord’s Supper a place where you have several unfinished spiritual projects piled and waiting for you? Or do you use the quiet time of Communion to think about the many tasks awaiting you after church?

Often a home’s furnishings include a small, decorative table that serves no function other than as a place for a beautiful vase or plant. Is there more to your Communion time than decoration? Are you going through motions in a proper, respectable way in case someone is watching?

Most homes have a folding table in storage that is brought out when needed. Do you come to the Lord’s table only on rare occasions, leaving it in your spiritual closet most of the time? Is your Lord’s table flimsy and unstable?

Another common furnishing of homes is the coffee table, sometimes a place where coffee-table books are displayed but never read. Do you participate in the Lord’s Supper having read the Book, having spent time in prayer and Scripture?

The Lord’s table is a table of fellowship, where a common meal is shared. I like to think of it more in terms of a kitchen table than an expensive table in the formal dining room. The kitchen table is where you eat with family and close friends, not invited guests and barely known acquaintances. You share with your dear brothers and sisters, and with the Lord Jesus, who offers his body and his blood for our salvation and our sustenance.

May we come to the table this day to mingle our lives with the Lord.

Mark Krause serves as academic dean and professor of Bible with Nebraska Christian College in Papillion, Nebraska, and Crossroads College, Rochester, Minnesota.

By Mark Krause

Guilt. Oh, how we manipulate our lives to avoid, deny, or relieve any sense of guilt! No one likes to feel guilty, but once we get the feeling, it has staying power. We need to do something to alleviate the burden of guiltiness.

Some people try to remove guilt by consulting a friend or therapist who tells them they’ve really done nothing wrong. But true guilt cannot be dismissed so easily, so the feeling lingers. Some seek a dialogue of forgiveness with the offended party. But this may be denied or impossible to us, so the guilt remains.

Perhaps the most common reaction (at least for men) is to give a gift as compensation. We argue with our wives, so we bring them flowers. We offend our coworkers, so we take them out to lunch. Too often, though, this maneuver appears shallow and insincere, so our peace offering backfires.

The Old Testament law of Moses knew a lot about guilt mitigation. The book of Leviticus contains the law for the “guilt offering.” This was a process of paying restitution plus a penalty to one who had been defrauded, and then the additional offering of an unblemished ram to the priest.

The problem with this approach was it was not scalable, and therefore, not equitable. A ram from the flock of a rich man with a hundred rams was not much of an offering compared to the man who had only one ram. It is the difference between the $10,000 fine levied against a professional basketball player who makes $20 million a year compared with an identical fine assessed against an assistant coach who makes $50,000 a year. The rich man gets off too easily.

A just penalty must have a cost that is felt. Guilt remains unrelieved unless a price is paid. This is not unnatural or neurotic. This is the way God made us. We experience guilt because we are out of synch with our Creator.

As we come to the Lord’s table this morning, may we appreciate both our great guilt and the great price that was paid for our forgiveness. Jesus, the innocent, perfect, guiltless Lamb of God, was “wounded for our transgressions, [and] . . . bruised for our iniquities” (Isaiah 53:5, King James Version). A perfect penalty was paid on the cross of Calvary. His body was broken for our sins. His blood was shed to vanquish our guilt.

Let us examine our lives this morning and lay our cares and our guilt at the foot of the cross. Let us celebrate the reality that the Lamb of God takes away our sin through his blood.

Mark Krause serves as academic dean and professor of Bible with Nebraska Christian College in Papillion, Nebraska, and Crossroads College, Rochester, Minnesota.

By Tom Lawson

One thing Americans traveling in the United Kingdom will notice almost immediately involves what people call “personal space.” Houses are smaller. Automobiles are smaller. City streets are smaller. People simply live closer together.

Nowhere is this more evident, or more awkward, than when eating lunch in a sidewalk cafe or British pub. Do not expect to eat alone. Even if you are by yourself, you will not be eating alone. The American custom of devoting an entire table to a group, or even a single person, is simply ignored. If there are empty places, don’t be surprised to look up and see them filled.

For me, this is an uncomfortable arrangement. I look up and see strangers sitting at my table. Some clearly are of Indian ancestry, some British, some African, and all of them are enjoying fish and chips or bangers (sausages) and beans, happily oblivious to my discomfort. I try and remember to turn my fork upside-down and put it in my left hand before they notice I’m a Yank. I mean, who invited them to my table?

Admittedly, the table isn’t really mine. It belongs to the local owner. Even more alarming, I have to acknowledge that my tablemates probably eat here often, while I’m only a visitor. In fact, it isn’t even my country. My passport needs to have a stamp on it giving me permission to stay here for awhile, even as it demonstrates that I have no natural or automatic right to be here. To be eating here. To be sitting next to Abdul or Alfred or Abeeku.

It dawns on me that, in reality, these chaps are letting me sit with them at their table, in their town, in their country.

The table we come to for the Lord’s Supper is never an American table. It is never our table. And, it is never an empty table. Here the poor crowd in next to the rich, white pass the plate to black, and a myriad of languages and cultures jostle shoulder to shoulder, to share in that one spiritual food and one spiritual drink.

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). The table is about coming to Christ, certainly. But it is also about coming together. It is about a community, a living body of believers from every tribe, tongue, race, and nation coming together at the same table to share in the same meal at the invitation of the same King.

And, like my experiences in England, we must acknowledge that none of us by place of birth or ethnicity or language or wealth or power has any natural right to be here. We are all, in a sense, strangers “who . . . have been brought near through the blood of Christ” (Ephesians 2:13).

The Lord’s Supper is, in part, a frequent reminder that the church is called upon to be a radical movement of united diversity creating genuine community throughout a world with more walls than bridges. “Excuse me, Cheng-Wang, but do you mind passing me some of that bread?”

Tom Lawson teaches at Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri.

By Tom Lawson

During the 1930s a hopeful contender in a Charlie Chaplin look-alike contest in San Francisco was disappointed when he did not even make the finals. The contestant was, of course, none other than the real Charlie Chaplin.

Today, an entire industry of celebrity doubles has arisen. Want Arnold Schwarzenegger at your 5-year-old’s birthday party? No problem. Want Barack Obama to speak at the church’s annual Thanksgiving dinner? No problem.

Among the billions of human beings on earth, some clearly bear striking similarities to others. In European folklore this may be behind the myth of the doppelganger­—a person’s duplicate who is said to appear as a bad omen.

There are advantages to having a double, of course. Celebrities make use of them, as do important politicians. Whether for security or just to obtain a little personal privacy, a stand-in who looks just like you can come in handy. Nowhere would this be more helpful than to avoid some unpleasant consequences. Like, for example, being hanged as a horse thief or, as Sydney Carlton did for Charles Damay at the end of A Tale of Two Cities, being executed by guillotine in the French revolution. Then it would be a good thing to have a look-alike also serve as a stand-in.

When Paul writes, “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:21), he is describing a remarkable example of a look-alike serving as a stand-in. On the cross, human sinfulness was so thoroughly wrapped around Jesus that he looked thoroughly sinful. Jesus, as Peter observes, carried our sins in his body on the cross (1 Peter 2:24).

Although no longer a popular image with some who discount traditional notions of God’s justice and wrath, this understanding of the cross as, in part, an act of substitution is a foundational truth of Christianity. In looking guilty, Jesus accepted the punishment deserved by the guilty. In accepting Jesus, the guilty are, as Paul notes several times (Galatians 3:27; Colossians 3:12), clothed in Christ. That is how the Bible can speak of us as being “holy and blameless in his sight” (Ephesians 1:4).

The cross and, indeed, the ministry of Jesus are certainly about more than this one idea. But, to remove or downplay the central truth of substitution and atonement is to rob the cross of its inherent necessity.

A wise man once observed that basic fairness meant that God could only punish the guilty and pardon the innocent. “Acquitting the guilty and condemning the innocent—the Lord detests them both” (Proverbs 17:15). In the cross, however, this is exactly what God does. The innocent (Jesus) suffers punishment, while the guilty (you and me) are treated as completely innocent. Jesus looked like us so that, in God’s eyes, we can look like Jesus.

In Communion, we celebrate the most wonderful, and the most terrible, example of a look-alike serving as a stand-in in history. Jesus. On the cross. For me.

Tom Lawson teaches at Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri.

By Tom Lawson

Not far from where I live, vast acres of grain fields extend as far as the eye can see. It is intriguing to see the land transition from muddy brown to springtime green to harvest gold.

Huge combine harvesters make their slow passage through the fields in August and September, pouring tons of harvested grain into the beds of waiting trucks, as the rich fields are reduced again to brown stubble and mud.

Few of us give much thought to where our food is produced, or by whose hands and efforts it comes to our table. To us, a loaf of bread is just that. Although we may know better, we tend to think of it only in its completed, whole, and sliced-up form. One could almost imagine a great chugging piece of farm machinery, slowly making its way through a vast field of plastic-wrapped loaves of sliced sandwich bread.

The reality, of course, is that our bread is produced by crushing thousands of kernels of wheat to a fine powder. This is transported, packaged, and brought home. Then the powder is scooped into a great mound waiting for the addition of water and other ingredients. Then comes the kneading, forming, rising, baking, and, finally, a loaf of finished bread shared around a family table. The grain that makes up that finished bread came from hundreds of individual plants spread over great distances. Scattered kernels brought together into a single whole loaf.

Near the beginning of the second century, an unknown Christian writer composed a prayer to be used during a Communion service. Although not part of inspired Scripture, the prayer is moving and gives us an intriguing glimpse into the worship of that first generation of believers after the passing of the apostles:

We thank you, our Father, for life and knowledge that you have made known to us through your Servant, Jesus. To you be glory forever! Just as this broken loaf, once scattered across the hills, was gathered together and became this one loaf, let your Church be gathered together from the ends of earth into your kingdom. For yours is glory and power through Jesus Christ forever (Didaché 9).

What an image—scattered grain lifted from across the hills and brought together to form one loaf as a visible parable of the church of Christ being gathered from across far-away lands and far-off times into a single gathered family of the kingdom of God at the end of the age. Paul gives the seed of this very thought when he observes, “Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf” (1 Corinthians 10:17).

It is hard to see the loaf of bread when standing in the middle of endless acres of growing grain. It is also hard to picture the acres of grain when looking at a loaf of fresh baked bread. Yet, in our hearts, we know both realities, the seen and the not-yet-seen, are true.

May our coming around the table give us the ability to see both gathered bread and scattered fields, and to live in the certain hope that soon the harvester will be sent forth to bring us all home.

Tom Lawson teaches at Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri.

By Chuck Sackett

Immediately before worship was to begin, a leader in the congregation dumped a boatload of complaints on the preacher. As the preacher entered the worship area, his once light spirit—which had been anticipating worship and preaching—bottomed out in a wash of questions. Instead of worshipping, he fidgeted throughout the singing, trying to get his heart and mind back on track.

He was agonizing over the complaints, frustrated by the timing, and momentarily incapable of preaching. Fortunately, Communion was served before the sermon that day. As he continued to try to settle his spirit, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A man from across the room had walked over to him to quietly ask, “Are you OK? You look really troubled. May I pray for you?”

That moment served as the turning point for the preacher. Someone saw, and cared, and acted. Someone actually spent time “discerning the body” as they sat at the table with Jesus and among his body. Instead of closing his eyes and reliving the sins of his past week, this brother looked around and saw one who was hurting and acted upon what he saw. No one else would have known the power of the moment. But the preacher has never forgotten.

The story reminds us of Paul’s instruction recorded in 1 Corinthians 11:18, 27-30, 33.

When you come together as a church, there are divisions among you. . . . 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. Everyone ought to examine themselves. . . . For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves. . . . That is why many among you are weak and sick. . . . So then, my brothers and sisters, when you gather to eat, you should all eat together.

So, for today, open your eyes. See the hurt, discomfort, and anxiety of those around you. Pray for them. Go to them. Touch them. Share the meal with them. As you “examine yourself,” become an agent of healing in the body.

Chuck Sackett serves as preaching minister with Madison Park Christian Church, Quincy, Illinois, and professor of preaching at Lincoln (Illinois) Christian University. 

By Nancy Karpenske

The notion of “coming clean” implies a person is concealing something, not being completely honest. Coming clean is connected to guilt and shame. If someone stares you down and says, “Time to come clean,” it probably isn’t a request to wash up before sitting down at the dinner table.

God invites us to dinner at his table. We have a standing invitation. Communion is a moment when we are invited to come closer to God. The bread and the juice, symbols of Jesus’ torture and death, remind us in a vivid way that we have already been cleansed. The saving and cleansing work of salvation is complete, finished. “‘He himself bore our sins’ in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness” (1 Peter 2:24).

But daily life takes its toll on righteous living. Sin creeps back in. Busyness blurs connection with God. At the end of the week, we are often weary and grungy and tangled back up in the old way of life. How can we approach God like that?

Communion can seem formidable. There’s pressure to clean up our act, to sort through our recent misdeeds and mess ups—well, let’s just call them sins. Let’s be clear. Sinful thoughts and actions don’t disqualify us from our position with God—Jesus took care of that. But the layers of accumulated pollution, that guilt and shame in our hearts and minds, make it more difficult to hear and respond to God.

God has a prescription for cleansing—return to the cross. He waits and longs for our return. When sin clouds our view of God and makes us feel like failures, participating in the Lord’s Supper can serve as the time and place where we return to God for renewal: we remember the One who cleanses us; we recall that we paid nothing for this privilege, but he paid everything.

Communion is the time and place to be renewed. Come clean, come asking for cleansing, “Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10).

That is the essence of Communion, a return to that original experience of cleansing. First we remember Jesus’ death as the initial and complete wellspring of cleansing. Second, we thank God for our own salvation experience, when the guilt and shame were removed. “You were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 6:11). And then we willingly return again (and again) to “come clean,” to reveal our week’s accumulation of mess ups and failures.

When we draw near to God, dirt and all, and acknowledge our need, he points us to the cross and says, “The blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. . . . If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:7, 9).

When we trade our sins for Jesus’ righteousness, we do come clean. We receive a new start, a new heart. Communion both reminds and refreshes. His cleansing power never diminishes. Celebrate that.

Nancy Karpenske is women and spiritual transformation pastor at LifeBridge Christian Church, Longmont, Colorado.

By Nancy Karpenske

A cup, a gas tank, a bank account, a house, even a heart can be described as empty. Typically when something is empty, the implication is it’s not worth very much, or it is waiting to be filled.

Philippians 2:7 says Jesus emptied himself of godly power. He emptied himself of godly glory. The Message says, “He set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave.”

That emptying process looked like this: He humbled himself, he showed up on earth as a human, he accepted the role of a servant, he obeyed or submitted to God’s plan, even to the point of a totally undeserved death, even a horrific death on a cross.

On the cross, Jesus emptied himself of his godly righteousness. He made himself an empty vessel in order to receive the sins of all mankind. He bore our griefs and carried our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4). He received the punishment for our transgressions. He emptied himself so God might lay on him the iniquity of us all.

Second Corinthians 8:9 describes the same idea in terms of rich and poor: “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake, he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.”

Through his emptiness, we sinners can become full—the great exchange.

As you hold the Communion cup in your hand, remind yourself that Jesus emptied himself so that you might be filled. It is entirely acceptable that we show up here on a Sunday morning empty, needing to be refilled, refueled, and replenished. Because the Lord’s table is the place where we can trade our emptiness for his fullness.

We are each filled with his Spirit, righteousness, and holiness. We receive his power and his love. John 1:16 says, “From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another” (New International Version, 1984).

As you hold your empty cup, pause to remember his empty cross and tomb.

Romans 15:13 says, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (NIV, 1984).

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Nancy Karpenske is women’s ministry director at LifeBridge Christian Church in Longmont, Colorado.

By Nancy Karpenske

“Bring it to the table.”

You might hear the phrase in any one of several settings.

A project manager where you work might say, “Bring it to the table.” He means you have an idea or a concern that should be examined and discussed. Until a problem is “brought to the table,” it can’t be solved.

The Lord’s table is a safe place. You can bring your messiness and brokenness. You can bring your problems and worries. One of the most comforting descriptions of Jesus (although originally offered as a criticism) was, “He eats with sinners.” Sometimes a person who is considering becoming a Christian says something like, “I need to clean up my act. Then perhaps Jesus would accept me.” Sometimes a Christian judges himself, thinking, I’ve really messed up this week. I better not take Communion.

The meal offered at the Lord’s table drives home the point that our personal perfection and purity are not prerequisites for dining with Jesus. He said the cup we drink “is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28). Bring your flaws and failures to the Lord’s table. You will always “receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need” (Hebrews 4:16).

A mediator might say, “Bring it to the table.” He intends to resolve a dispute. He oversees negotiation involving compromise and trading. You must be willing to offer to give up something or do something in exchange for whatever the other party is bringing to the table.

The Lord’s table is a place of exchange. There is, however, no negotiation or compromise. Jesus is the host. He makes the offer. Trade your sin for my righteousness. Trade your guilt for freedom. The exchange takes place when you bring yourself to the table, admitting your need.

A hostess might say, “Bring it to the table.” She could be referring to your appetite. She has prepared a wonderful meal and she wants you to enjoy it.

The Lord’s table is a place of satisfaction. When I bring my thirst for connection to him, I receive refreshment. When I bring my longing to be reminded of his forgiveness and freedom, I am filled with peace.

Come to his table today, bringing your failures, trading them for his righteousness, eager to be filled with his peace. Come to the table.

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Nancy Karpenske is women’s ministry director at LifeBridge Christian Church in Longmont, Colorado.