The Heart of Communion

Written by Tabi

It moves me almost every Sunday.  I can’t help it.  When I see my brothers and sisters in Christ post their pictures of church, and especially of the Lord’s Supper, I am reminded that God’s Kingdom ignores whatever lines we’ve scribbled on the Earth.  Its citizens hail from every tribe, every nation, every people group.  And every Sunday, I eagerly swipe through my feed, hitting a love react on every picture someone shares of their time.

It reminds me that there’s a bond.  A Bloodline.  A heritage.

Sunday, March 22, 2020
A highly contagious virus has spread rapidly across the world.  It’s a surreal feeling, because most of the time, natural disasters happen other places, but not here.  Or they happen here and not in other places.  I struggle to explain what it’s like, and people either pity me or try to ignore the situation altogether.  But not this time.  This time, we’re all in it together.  My friends in China, my friends in Italy and France, my friends in the United States, my friends in Tanzania . . . we’re all facing quarantines and homeschooling and difficulties getting supplies.

And for at least one Sunday, I see the CHURCH, the real church, the Bride of Christ rise up from her surroundings and shout “I AM HERE.”  For one Sunday, people stop going to church, and start being the church.  They start reaching out to their community, because they have no jobs to keep them too busy to help.  They wake up and start looking around, because now they have little else to do.  They start finding ways to be the church when there is no building to hide in.

And that’s why I was moved to tears this time.  Why every picture I saw of the Body and the Blood was a beautiful, resounding anthem to Communion.  And it didn’t matter if people had wine or grape juice or grapes, or even water (after all, our Savior did turn water into wine).  It didn’t matter if the bread was unleavened or not.  What mattered was that One People gathered to “DO THIS IN REMEMBRANCE OF ME” and by doing so, “proclaim the Lord’s death” until whatever day He decides to return.  We all came flocking to His table, because what we longed for was Communion with Him and each other.

We made a loud and clear declaration that Sunday.  We declared that our faith transcends hardship, mild or oppressive, that it cannot be shut down or locked away or quarantined.  We declared that we are a Community of believers, and it doesn’t matter which piece of land we live on, we serve the same Lord and were all invited to His Table.

And maybe we didn’t have the elements of Communion perfect, but I think we found the heart of it.