"This is Christ's body, broken for you," it said.
"Do this in remembrance of Me," I heard.
And I remembered.
There was a time I took communion every week.
It seemed so radical to take weekly communion, such a break from my Baptist upbringing, but I loved it. I waited expectantly for that moment in the service. I wondered why the church of my childhood had only done it once a year. I thought it was mostly due to how long it took to pass all those silver plates around the huge room, taking up most of the time carved out of people's Sunday mornings for a church service. And I grieved to think that we gave up that beautiful moment 51 weeks of the year because it took too long to serve everyone in the room.
This is Christ's body, broken for you.
I was once healed during a communion service. It isn't the first thought most people have when communion comes to mind, but for me communion is so much about healing. Not just that physical healing I experienced, but a healing of the spirit and soul.
Do this in remembrance of Me.
I am trying to remember how long it has been since I've taken communion.
Two years. Maybe three.
Three years is a long time to not do something you love.
Three years is a long time to not have that moment of peace totally focused on Jesus.
This is the real honesty: I have only been to church a handful of times in the last five years.
It grieves me now to think that I gave up that beautiful moment almost 260 times because of hurt feelings, and dashed hopes, and transportation issues, and a faith crisis, and confusion, and fear.
I miss communion - the cracker and grape juice kind of communion, and the fellowship of the saints kind of communion.
Sometimes the simplest things seem so big and so hard.
Sometimes the things I want to do are the exact things I do not do.
And sometimes when I open up a bottle of Katarina's favorite grape juice, and stand by the refrigerator taking a swig out of the bottle, I think "Do this in remembrance of Me," and a tear slides down my cheek.
*This is the blog post I read today, from Rachel Held Evans.