“My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought –
My sin not in part but the whole
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more
Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord, oh my soul!”
– Horatio Spafford
One of the many things we reflect on during the Lord’s Supper (aka communion aka eucharist aka bread and wine aka crackers and grape juice) is the sinful nature – our constant state of being in the pit of depravity and lostness. Bordering on sacrilege, I sometimes get sidetracked with the overwhelming nature of the things I have done and struggled with over my life. Sometimes it just comes flooding over me with such force that I’m shocked I haven’t passed out during the ceremony before. You never feel as guilty as you do while holding a tiny cup of grape juice. Well, maybe some of you don’t relate to this. But everything in my life gets really narrowed down to a chiselled tip at that moment for me. The blood that was shed – for you – drink in remembrance of me.
I think that in my life right now I understand God more than I ever have. Not to sound pompous about it at all – I just mean that there was a huge timeframe where I completely misunderstood and even hated Him, as a concept and as a possible reality. I loathed the idea that He stood by while x, y, and z happened to me, not to mention A though W to everyone else. I was frustrated with the idea that no matter what I did it wouldn’t be enough and it was going to hurt if I didn’t do it the right way.
But now, with all that is behind me, I have come to better understand the depth of love and grace, the complete washing away and renewing of the soul – a love beyond any good explanation and mostly irrational really. And so the realist in me struggles against the hope and the balance of those things brings me always to a place of mystery and wonder and a strength I forget I have available to me. And I am in awe every time.