A Table Prepared

Every other Sunday there is a table where wine and bread have been set and prepared in advance for us to gather ‘round and join together. Shoulder to shoulder, nearly touching each other, as we touch Jesus himself. 

Body broken-the bread. 

Blood pressed out-the wine. 

I touch the bread and feel it with my fingers full of nerves and tingles and I believe risky that I am feeling the touch of Christ. Who am I to approach this table?

 I, who had just raised her voice at her children rushing out for church, who had just compared herself with another woman, who had just entertained a covetous thought. He’s beckoning me, this sinner, with all my flawed senses to "take it" and experience the sight, smell, feel, even taste of His presence!

“Take it; this is my body.” Mark 14:2

Jesus, through this sacrament come down touching me? 

I imagine His embrace with arms that are safe. 

Could it be this intimate?

The wine poured in advance into tiny clear cups. Bitter it flows down. His blood poured out while taking in every bitter moment, thought, pain and sorrow for His own. His tears dripping red in the garden to meet us in the agony of a devastating diagnosis, a death sudden, tragic and tormenting, a carried soul in the womb now missed, a beloved pet now old and aching, the bills once covered now piled high, the hollowness of a marriage in crisis, arms that were supposed to be safe not safe at all, your child lonely at recess , a widow with an empty bed once shared– He knows these tears and all the thousands more.  His blood in this wine, dare I say, a kiss from Him as it touches my lips and I am loved wildly-pure!

“This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.”

And it all makes sense...how those scripture words tell me of a table that was prepared and furnished in advance for Jesus.

“Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him. ¹⁵ He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there. ”The disciples left, went into the city and found things just as Jesus had told them. So they prepared the Passover. Mark 14:13-16

Jesus knew what he would face at this table and He walked right to it. The Psalms promised it... “You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;” Ps. 23:5

That sly enemy crept boldly to the table and Jesus knowing full-well what he would face reclined and welcomed His betrayal. He faced His table so we could sit at His.  

And I watch my eldest partake of his first communion. His youthful hands, not yet weary or aged with life’s grief. Holding the broken piece for he will know deep brokenness in time. His lips touching, taking in the wine and I witness an image of a promise held together in this moment. Even in the mess, holding and welcoming us through His bloodshed. For my boy will know the sting of blood one day too and he will need that promise to meet him when his tears weigh his body to the ground.

There is another table, I believe, God prepared in advance through His sovereign kind hand. A last supper set for myself, my Lauren and my Hailey. I would have never chosen that table. I went to Houston on whim, very unlike me to do so with two young boys. I can look back now and see a faithful and kind Jesus who let me dine one last time with both sisters, shoulder to shoulder. It was April. Spring smells, budding life, soft wind was all around. A month later, she was gone.  Hailey chose another table. A table where she is no longer in tears and the tangles of mental illness. Our last sister-supper prepared in advance pointing toward an everlasting table yet to come. 

So I approach each spring with all whirls of emotions while at the same time I approach a table prepared beforehand by the elders of my church. I touch, I feel, I see and I hear His presence and I hope upward to the day when this table is in full banqueting beauty, resting in the very presence of my Savior where tears will no longer be. 

For it is prepared and it is furnished and it is ready.

Hoping upward with you, Emily