Peace and grace to each of you in Jesus name!
First a great big thank you to new readers in the following nations and geographical areas during the past week; Gaza, Italy, Kuwait and Paraguay. I sincerely hope you will read and enjoy these articles often. If you have any questions regarding Christianity please write to me at pastorrance@hotmail.com I will gladly answer you personally.
The title of this article is BROKEN and POURED OUT. It may be a strange name to you, but it applies to a Biblical directive for all believers in Christ. That directive is found in the book of 1st Corinthians chapter 11 verses 23-26. The setting in the first century is with Jesus and His disciples sharing the last meal before He gave His life on the cross and then was miraculously risen from the grave three days later. This was not "just another meal" centered around food. In reality it was a Biblical Passover meal celebrating an important story told in the Book of Genesis chapter 12. The Israelites had been slaves in Egypt for about 430 years.
God directs that each Israelite family take an unblemished (innocent) lamb and and kill it at twilight. The blood from this lamb was to be spread on the two door posts and lintel of each Israelite house. God was about to send judgement on the house of Pharaoh and slay the first born of each Egyptian household as judgement for sins committed against Israel. The blood spread on the doorposts of the Israelites, spared the firstborn of their houses from this horrible plague. The innocent lamb became known as "the passover lamb" because the shedding of it's blood caused the spirit of death to passover the houses upon which it was applied.
Fast forward to the first century and the last Passover meal that Jesus hosted for His Disciples. The purpose was to explain to His disciples that He was in fact the real Passover Lamb and it is His shed blood that protects from spiritual death, all human beings who will place their faith in Him as the Son of God. This meal, or as some may refer to it as a ceremony, is what 1 Corinthians chapter 11 verses 23-27 is all about.
Depending upon the denomination or church, this ceremony is called "The Lord's table", "Communion","the Lord's supper, "The Eucharist" and other names understood by Christians today. During the roughly two and one half decades of my ministry, I have served "communion" to congregations on the average of once each week. That is more than some pastors believe is necessary but I feel strongly that what a lot of people term as this "ceremony", is far more than that. This time is normally accompanied by a Gospel message but centers on the blood that was shed by Christ on the cross of Calvary and also the horrible beating and abuse that His body underwent at the hands of the crucifying Roman solders.
Normally during communion, the pastor gives each congregant a piece of unleavened bread and a small cup of grape juice or wine (again depending upon the denomination), that are then consumed as reminders of the sacrifice that Christ voluntarily made for all of mankind.
This sacrifice was given by the Son of God because He knew that mankind was not capable of atoning for his own sins. Therefore God made this ultimate sacrifice in our behalf so we would be able to spend eternity with God at no cost to ourselves. This free gift of eternal life requires no sacrifice on our behalf. It does not require acts of work to earn what was given freely. It does not require us to give our own physical lives or spill our own blood or the blood of others. It is a FREE gift given to any man woman or child on this earth who will simply put their faith in Jesus Christ.
The reason that I have chosen to offer communion on a weekly basis is because verse 26 of 1st Corinthians chapter 11 says "For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until He comes". "WHEN HE COMES, refers to His second coming to this earth to redeem His people, an event that many pastors and teachers believe may well be on the horizon today.
I have chosen this week to share with you an excellent article by one of our staff writers, Hannah Koppers. Hannah has posted a previous article which many of you enjoyed. In todays article she shares a rare, extremely intimate glimpse into the heart of a believer in Christ.
Welcome Hannah!
“Broken And Poured Out”
by Hannah Koppers
I recently read a book that flung this idea out into the world, asking the question:" what does the Eucharist / Communion really signify?" "What is it supposed to look like?"
In truth, I’m attracted to the romanticism of this idea, of becoming ‘broken bread and poured out wine’ on behalf of humanity. What Christian wouldn’t be? This idea of sacrificial love is the central theme of Christianity: ‘As I have done, you also do’. In the process of becoming born again, we have inherited certain familial traits from our Father, among which is the instinctive draw toward service. We cannot help ourselves, we must take action.
However, before I can properly take action on a mandate such as this: ‘do this…in remembrance of Me’, I want to understand what it is that I am getting myself into. When Jesus broke a piece of bread and called it his body, and when he picked up a cup of wine and called it his blood, was he merely talking about what was going to take place later on that night? And is the remembrance to which we are called simply a ceremony where we read a passage and solemnly partake of the elements? And what are ‘elements’ anyway? In science class I learned that ‘element is the simplest form of matter’- to wit, the most basic of the basic. An element is the backbone, the primary building block upon which everything else rests.
Our backbone is a cracker and a cup of juice?
When I look at the concept brought forth by Jesus, involving his body and his blood and his tokens of remembrance, there seems to be a deeper purpose behind his words.
Yes, Christ suffered, and yes, that bread and that wine directly signified the suffering that he was about to undertake on our behalf. Thanks be to God that he drank his cup to its dregs, in order to save us from having to. Yet, eventually, Christ walked the earth again, in a new body, with new blood coursing through his veins.
“[Christ] the head over the church, which is His body”
There is no escaping the picture of the Church as the body of Christ. And, thinking of ourselves along those lines, there is no escaping the fact that Communion as it stands invariably holds a deeper meaning for us than that of a simple ceremony of remembrance.
“This is my body, broken for you”
“This wine is the cup of the New Covenant in my blood, shed for you”
Christ’s body…our church.
Broken bread…poured out wine.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”. Another translation would read “Blessed are the broken”. Jesus Christ, when faced with the hunger of the multitude, replies, “You give them something to eat”. Broken bread, poured out wine. Paul says, “To the weak, I became weak”, and in another place, “I am being poured out like a drink offering”.
Broken bread…poured out wine.
In a world that is frantically trying to fix itself, that is placing the band-aid of medication over the bullet wound that is sin and death, being broken is cause for shame. Hide your cracked soul behind a shiny veneer, a whitened smile and expensive makeup. Don’t let people know what you think to yourself, huddled on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night. Never tell the secrets that you have cloaked in the silence of shame for so many years. Nobody cares anyway. Nobody has time to listen to you complain about your life. Just grin and bear it with the rest of us.
Yet Paul said “I glory in my weakness”, and “my chains are in Christ”. For those of us who function as a part of Christ’s body, this is the upside-down world into which we have become born again. Weakness is our greatest asset, and to be the least is our greatest glory.
In the short period of time that I have been pondering this idea of what the words ‘broken’ and ‘poured out’ actually mean to someone like myself, there is one thing that I can’t escape: I must admit –a little shamefacedly- that while there has been a great deal of daydreaming about my striking resemblance to Christ, about my ability to be ‘broken’ and ‘poured out’, I am still embarrassingly whole and full.
What am I doing wrong? I have lived my whole life in the Church. How could I have missed something so seemingly…elemental?
I have no answers, for either myself or for the church at large. All I can say is that I am attempting to open up the secret drawers of my heart, and taking a long, thoughtful look at the contents therein. And I have to go back to the beginning.
“Broken bread…poured out wine”. What does this mean for me? To look too closely at its significance prompts a shudder, because for the original ‘Broken Bread’, this meant betrayal, sorrow, suffering and death. Is this what I have to look forward to, also?
And so I go even farther back. “You give them something to eat”. And I sigh with a little bit of relief. Because in this new awareness of my weakness, I realize that I cannot at present climb onto a cross and forgive my accusers. But I can give someone something to eat. And a cup of cold water.
But then, I again find myself going back. This time I find myself hanging out in the first book of Corinthians, hovering over that most romantic and famous of chapters, the 13th. And I realize that brokenness, and poured-outness, starts with the inescapable reality of how heaven views such things. This manifesto on Love tells us that the greatest and most noble of deeds-when done without the tenderness of love- is useless, is dirt and rubbish.
And so I look again, and I recognize the irresistible temptation toward action, flinging myself headlong into the first great Cause that might come along. But without Love, is it even worth it? Would my deeds fit into the reality of ‘broken and poured out’? Or would I simply be drawing all men, and all acclaim, and all virtue, unto myself, instead of unto the Cross?
And so I think a little smaller, a little more close to home. ‘Broken bread and poured out wine’ in my immediate present. What am I supposed to do with my present?
For the answer to this, I look to my surroundings. I look to my corner of the church. What can I do here?
I can stop looking at the church in light of what it can do for me, and see instead an unusual and unexpectedly diverse group of individuals who have all been drawn by the sublime grace of the cross into a way of life that is inherently opposite to what their culture dictates as ‘normal’. I can release these, my brothers and sisters, from the obligation to keep me happy. I can put my sense of entitlement to rest, and I can lay aside the part of me that becomes indignant when I do not get treated the way I think I should be. I can quit evaluating the church based on the eloquence of the speaker and the entertainment value of the worship. I can see the church building itself as holy ground, sanctified by those who have come to worship there. I can see the members also as holy ground, upon which I should fear to trample, with my heavy words and unforgiving gaze.
I can give people credit for good intentions. I can recognize the effort it takes for so many people to simply survive another day, and applaud them when they succeed. I can cheer for the good, and gently wipe away the bad. I can stop seeing lost causes everywhere I go, and reaffirm my grasp on cheerful hope.
I can learn to take care of my friends, instead of always expecting them to take care of me.
I can love my neighbor, even when he keeps stepping on my grass.
I can babysit for that family with the inconveniently large number of children.
I can tell people everything I like about them.
Broken bread…poured out wine. The romanticism of this idea captivates, but when it takes shape into reality, it transforms. I want to be transformed, and I want to be broken. I want to love and I want to be poured out. I want to rejoice in this upside-down reality that is Christ crucified, broken and poured out in the most magnificent, compelling way.
In short, I want a new reality.
