Here at Wheaton we occasionally have an event called all-school communion. Basically it’s an evening worship service for anyone at the school. Of course, partaking in communion is a part of the service. Chaplain Kellough, who we like to call Chappy K, passes out the elements to pairs of servers who go throughout the chapel. The first server holds a basket of bread, and another holds a cup of wine (well, it’s actually juice). A line forms down an aisle in front of the first server and the person at the front of the line picks up a piece of bread as the server says, “the body of Christ, broken for you.” The person then dips the bread into the wine (this method is called intinction) as the second server says, “the blood of Christ, shed for you.”
A good friend of mine happens to be a student chaplain and for the last all-school he asked me if I would be willing to help serve communion. I agreed to be a part of it, so I showed up, listened to some basic instructions and took the glass of wine to one of the stations. In case you didn’t catch it, my job was to hold a glass and say repeatedly, “the blood of Christ, shed for you.” On average, I probably paused for about three seconds between repetitions and I may have said those word to about a hundred people. I’m mentioning the repetition because I expected it to become mundane or banal after the fifth or sixth repetition.
I confess I was a bit self-conscious. I knew some people heard me say the same thing several times, so I tried to change my vocal tone or inflections or pauses a bit to make my seven words more meaningful. It’s a good trick while practicing lines for a play to exaggerate different words to draw different emphases and variations in meaning to understand a sentence or phrase in a few different ways. “The blood of Christ, shed for you” means something slightly different from, “The blood of Christ, shed for you.” As I was saying this phrase repeatedly in different ways, my perspective on these words changed, not as much on their meaning but on their function.
As I held the cup, and offered it to people, I was telling them that Jesus’ blood had been shed for them. It was a greatly abridged version of the gospel. I started realizing what an honor it is to tell people that Jesus blood was shed for them. As I saw each face, I got to tell that person individually what the Son of God had done for them. What I felt was shockingly fulfilling and satisfactory. Of course, I wasn’t providing anything. I just stood in an aisle holding a cup. I just got to be the one who held it out to them and see their faces and tell them that Christ had provided for them. I can’t think of anything I’ve done that’s more important than that.
Over spring break, I went to Denver with a group from Wheaton. We worked with some different ministries in the Denver area. One of them was called Christ’s Body. They opened their doors around 10 AM, served breakfast, had a Bible Study, served lunch, and closed up around 3:00 PM. A girl named Sarah and I stood behind a counter serving oatmeal for breakfast and stroganoff for lunch. I think the name of the place made me start thinking about my experience serving communion. It struck me that I was doing the same thing. I hadn’t provided the food, but I got to hold it out and see the faces of the people receiving it.
I’m not sure where Christ’s Body was. I mean the church is Christ’s Body, but the bread is, but then, when we serve the needy, we serve Christ… Do we offer Christ’s Body to Christ’s Body? Maybe. What I do know is that Christ is in it. When we serve other people we serve Christ. When we serve other people we do the work of Christ.
If Jesus was alive today, what would he be doing? Probably something pretty similar to what he did before. If Jesus was hungry would you give him your food? I sure hope so! If Jesus asked you to do him a favor, to do something he would have done anyway, but he knew you could do it, so he asked you to step in for him, would you do it? Serving the needy is incredible because you serve God in two different ways, in two different directions. You do his good work from him and to him. This is profound.
