It is Holy Week, and there is much to think about. For me personally, the focus always ends up rehearsing the testimony of the Lord’s Supper. That story is filled with the gospel in ways we may not even realize.
Here is a brief word from William Willimon’s The Last Supper: Conversations That Led to the Cross.
(Chapter 6, “The Host Who Becomes the Meal”)
“But first, the Upper Room.
Before there is a cross, there is a meal.
Before there is sacrifice, there is gift.
Before there is blood poured out, there is bread broken and shared.
Jesus does not hand out a pamphlet explaining the atonement. He does not pause to offer a theory. He takes bread, breaks it, and says, ‘This is my body.’ He takes the cup and says, ‘This is my blood.’
At the end of the journey, Jesus doesn’t give us a concept.
He gives us himself.
A word for the road. (Emmaus)
The Host becomes the Meal.
The One who welcomes us gives himself away for us. This is the strange victory of God: not domination, not coercion, not force—but self-giving love.
Jesus feeds Judas, who will betray him.
Jesus feeds Peter, who will deny him.
Jesus feeds the disciples who will scatter and disappear when things become costly.
Jesus feeds them anyway.
If you have ever doubted God’s intentions toward you—look here.
At the Table.
At the Cross.
Here is a God who does not wait until we are worthy. Here is a God who meets us not with conditions, but with bread and wine. Here is a God who entrusts himself to our hands, even knowing how often those hands fail.
And then, on the road to Emmaus, the risen Christ is finally recognized—not in the teaching, not in the explanation, but in the breaking of the bread.
Which tells us something essential about the Christian life: Christ is most often known not through mastery, but through reception. Not through control, but through gift.
Prayer
Jesus, meet me at your table.
Feed me with your life.
Give me grace to receive what I cannot earn.
Make me yours. Amen.“
Image by Matthias Böckel from Pixabay
Wye Huxford 