The Night Jesus Shared Himself

I sat in my car the other day, staring at a crumpled up bread wrapper on the passenger seat. It was from a lunch I'd eaten hours before, but something about that discarded piece of paper felt like a metaphor for my week. I'd been running on empty, feeling like I was just going through the motions.

And then I thought about the night Jesus shared a final meal with his disciples.

A Meal Like No Other

It's a story we're all familiar with. Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread and broke it, saying "This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me." (1 Corinthians 11:24). But in that moment, I realized I'd been taking the ritual of communion for granted. It's easy to do, especially when it becomes routine.

But what if we really understood what was happening in that moment? Jesus, knowing he was about to face the cross, chooses to give himself to his disciples in the most intimate way possible — through a meal. "While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, 'Take it; this is my body.'" (Mark 14:22).

The Depth of Remembrance

I've struggled with feeling like I'm just going through the motions during communion. It's a ritual that's supposed to remind us of Christ's sacrifice, but sometimes it feels like just that — a ritual.

I think that's because we forget the significance of what's being remembered. This isn't just a meal; it's a declaration of love and sacrifice. "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." (John 15:13). Jesus wasn't just giving his disciples a snack; he was giving them himself.

And in doing so, he was showing them what love looks like.

It's a hard thing to wrap your head around, especially when you're sitting in a pew, trying to grasp the magnitude of it all. But what if we really believed that this meal was a reminder of the greatest love the world has ever known?

A Different Kind of Hunger

Sometimes I feel like I'm hungry for something more, but I don't know what that is. It's like there's a void inside of me that I'm attempting to fill with all the wrong things.

But the truth is, we're all hungry for connection, love, acceptance. And Jesus, in that final meal, is showing us what that looks like. "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 6:35).

It's about being filled with something that truly satisfies.

The Art of Remembrance

So how do we make communion more than just a ritual? How do we recall the sacrifice that was made for us?

For me, it's about slowing down. It's about taking a moment to really think about what's happening. "Do this in remembrance of me." (Luke 22:19). We're called to remember the sacrifice, to let it sink in.

And we're called to respond to that sacrifice with our own lives.

A Love Beyond Human Understanding

I'll be honest, I've struggled with feeling like I don't fully comprehend the magnitude of God's love. It's a love that's hard to wrap your head around, especially when you're in the midst of struggle.

But what if we didn't have to understand it? What if we could simply receive it, even when it doesn't make sense?

That's what Jesus' final meal with his disciples is all about — receiving a love that surpasses human comprehension. "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love." (1 Corinthians 13:13).

It's a mystery that surrounds us, waiting to be received.

A Community of Brokenness

As I sat in my car, staring at that crumpled up bread wrapper, I realized that I'm not alone in my struggles. We're all searching for something more, and we're all trying to make sense of this crazy, messy life we're living.

And that's what communion is — a community of broken people, coming together to recall the sacrifice that was made for us. "For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” (Matthew 18:20).

We're bound together by our shared humanity, and by the love that has been poured out for us.

And as we look around at the people in our lives, we're reminded that this love extends far beyond our own circles, transforming and redeeming us all.