BY JAY SAWRIE
Growing up, I dreaded the first Sunday of each quarter. Every time during the evening service, we would have Lord’s Supper after the sermon. It was clockwork, without fail. I dreaded these services because they seemed to always have the same emphasis: if there is any sin in your life, you need to repent or not take the cracker and juice this time. Like a self-barring of the table. Every instance I took communion, but if I’m honest; every time I just seemed to be reminded that I’m a sinner. It was a parade of guilt and pleading.
Flash forward to today. I am not looking forward to work this week I like my job, but the weekend has rushed by far too fast. It’s been like that for years. Everything moves faster as I’m starting to get older. There are demands for me to always have my best foot forward. Everything must be regulated and perfect. You must always think that I’m strong and never know I’m a sinner. But every Sunday, for just a brief few minutes I can stop and openly, publicly confess that I’m not strong. That at the end of the day I am weak. When it comes down to it I am sloppy and sinful. Through the Sacraments, you and I are invited to publicly proclaim that we do not have it all together. These means of grace aren’t dead rituals that we perform. They are not there for those who think they are worthy. Christ does not call His people to clean themselves up before they come to the font or the table. But rather, He invites us, saying "If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink". We still need the sacraments.
Because We Are Sinners...and Saints
Week after week I find myself still sinning. I still speak too harshly to my wife. I still hate that guy who cut me off in traffic. I still lie about if I'm angry. I still get angry about things that don't matter. I still fight my wandering eye, and I still do the right thing with a bad attitude. Sanctification feels slow. Laying in bed from time to time, I am faced again with the fact that I just can't get right. I am reminded of past failures of arrogance and pride. But it is vitally important to remember the sacraments. We have every grace to look back to our baptism in faith and see once more that God has promised us: I will be your God. I will wash you. I will make you clean. "You were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified." (1 Cor 6:11). God promises us through baptism that we are, through Christ, truly forgiven.
That promise is extended again to us in the Lord's Supper. In this sacrament, he nourishes with His body and His blood. "Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life...Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him." (John 6) If we are Christ's, He calls us to come to the table and feast. Not because we are perfect or have it all together, but because we don't. Not because we are worthy, but because He is gracious. Not because we are in some way righteous, but because He has given us His righteousness.
By coming to Communion we are reminded that by faith in Christ we are already clean, already promised to make it all the way. When Christ says that through his flesh and blood we "abide" he seems to indicate that this sacrament is beneficial for our sanctification. By that, I mean that Communion is a God-ordained means whereby He gives us repeatedly His Gospel promises. We still need the sacraments because God has given them for us to abide in Him.
So fear not, dear Christian, that you do not belong at the font or table. Run to them. Bring your children to them, let them see what's going on. Do not let your failures in the Christian walk cause you to hesitate or doubt your ability to come. This water is for you and your children. This table is for you to sustain you by faith. Come to the Sacraments, not as a dead ritual that just signals that the service is coming to a close. But come to it as a God-given necessity for the Christian life.
Jay Sawrie is an intern of the Presbyterian Church in America. He is a recent transplant to Northwest Arkansas where he lives with his lovely wife Allyson and their dog Ellie. Jay is also a contributor for Late Night Theology, a reader of Flannery O’Connor, and is working toward pastoring Presbyterian churches in the South.