On Being Supper Company

by - March 27, 2011

We were invited so long ago that to have a schedule conflict is inexcusable. I enter the door through misty, foggy rain, but my soul sings just to be in his house.

The table's been placed front and center, and I anticipate the routine. I like routine, the familiar comfort of knowing and doing. It's a tradition as comforting as favorite worn blue jeans.

But today, I feel lonely in the ritual. Even with the Holy Spirit resident within, I feel Jesus is too far off. His place at the head of the table is empty. Yet isn't this precisely why we eat and drink? This should not be my concern but my solace. And today, in the tradition, I want to break out. I want to sit across from my Christ. I want my fingertips to brush his palm when he passes the bread to me --  to me. I want to drink from the cup in his hand, and recline against his chest and commune. Really commune.

I think of the disciples: did they know they were making history? That this passover was the passover to end all passovers? Which of our observances of the Lord's supper will be the last? Will we know?

We eat. A pasty wafer melts stale on my tongue. I want to bite down, but can't seem to bring myself to it. I open my mouth, tip my chin skyward, and receive a small swallow, one sip of purple juice from a miniature plastic cup.  I stare blankly at the carpet just before me.

It doesn't feel holy today.

It feels empty.

I long for presence.

I want to really commune.

I do it in remembrance. He is the Bread of Life and the Never-Thirst-Again Water. And I want that communion: disciple communion, face to face, feet to feet, laughter to laughter, question to answer, smile to eye communion. I long to know him in this way. That is what I want to remember, not his missing place at the supper table.

My appetite for him is growing. One bit and one sip are not enough. I embrace what he gives; it is humble to receive. He is my sustenance, my portion. Give me this day my daily bread.

He inaugurated a new covenant, and I remember: I was once there at the cross when I first saw the light. And I do this in remembrance of Him who's not here, until he comes again for another meal, a Feast for all time.

There he will be.

Head of our father's table, the one abundant with bounty, he will host not a simple meal of bread and wine to commemorate death and sacrifice, but a lavish feast to celebrate life and communion. And we will, finally, really commune. Nothing will ever again be lacking.

It is the inauguration of the new covenant we remember, but the inauguration of a new heaven and a new earth we await. And today, I missed you, Lord Jesus. Even so, come quickly.

Easter Morning Communion, Sesaltul village, Guatemala, April 2010

I'm living out on Monday what I took in on Sunday. I want to always remember.

You May Also Like


  1. "And I want that communion: disciple communion, face to face, feet to feet, laughter to laughter, question to answer, smile to eye communion."

    Me too. And what I love about communion is that there I will also be face to face, feet to feet, laughter to laughter, question to answer, smile to eye with you and all the other communion disciples.

    Blessings for your week!

  2. I can feel your yearning and I have been there so many times. And I take comfort in the fact that I know the He knows that despite my feelings, my true desire is to be with Him always.

  3. I get jealous of the disciples for the same reason!

  4. I hear you on this one, Dawn, I do. And I so appreciate your honesty. I too have felt that emptiness at the communion table. I too have experienced that longing. Sometimes I think it's there for a reason...as we won't truly be reunited with him until he brings us everlasting life.

    So happy to see you linking up again! I hope life is settling down a bit for you?!

  5. I am moved by your words today and the loving in me is somewhat satisfied with your words and everlasting hope of that we will finally really commune.

  6. The picture is my favorite part of this post. Perfect!

  7. Which communion will be out last? Hmmm...that jumped out at me. We are having communion at our church next Sunday PM and I hope we hear the trumpet and the plate is dropped and echo's in an empty auditorium! I smile as at my last communion my new in Christ son leaned over to whisper what I thought was going to be some great spiritual observation ...instead he said "Mom, THAT has got to be the worst bread I have ever tasted!" (Smile). Yes, "this is my body that is broken for you"...Bitter indeed then. Bitter sweet now.

  8. Those disciples at the table with Jesus had no idea, did they? Makes me realize that I don't either. I never know when God is going to saturate the ritual with amazing grace. You've helped me to look at the same old same old in a new light. Make that, Light. :)

  9. Lonely for me is attending a little country church for more than three years and not one single person, not even the "pastor" calling, visiting, sending a card OR e-mail since Dave's been diagnosed and treated for terminal cancer. I think I'm through the bitterness and anger stages but am in process of visiting other churches.
    Thankfully, for the time being, God, Christ and the Holy Spirit are my church family.


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.