Solemn Joy

Our church did communion/Lord's supper today.

You've no idea how hard it was to write that sentence. What should be the verb? What verb was accurate?

We always "do" communion. It is ritual... and so solemn, almost grim.

I wanted to sing out, "Let the redeemed of the Lord say so!" We're not supposed to take the Lord's Supper unworthily, so we try to be reverent. I believe we can be reverently joyful. Joy is hard work. It's a command. And it can be reflective, and sober. Laughter can be about truth.

The sanctuary was silent except for the unnoticed jostle of passing the trays down each row. Deacons waited in the aisles to transfer the trays to the next row, but while helpful, they too were very quiet and solemn. The pastor stood at the front in prayer, and music played. Understanding that prayer was at least the expected activity of the moment, I resumed my conversation with God on the matter of communion. Is it true that no one will see if you don't take the bread? Is it true we don't care if our neighbor declines to partake? Shouldn't we care? What is with this secret surrender at the altar during invitations?

Scarlet juice glimmered in the tiny plastic cup I held in my hand, and I tried to focus on what it meant. Steve Green sang a song about ten years ago titled "My Soul Found Rest." My favorite line is "Pure white mingled with red as my Lord bled, and there my soul found rest." Without hearing the broken, sorrowful, glorious melody, you can't know how piercing the song is. And almost triumphant. It is praise. My soul found rest. I am redeemed.

We don't even know how to sing victory songs anymore. I don't mean taunting songs when you beat your best friend at Spoons. But real, serious victory. They're all over the Bible and premodern literature. Those were some sober, jubilant, and reflective songs. No flippancy could be allowed in them, for the cost had been too great. Yet they were glad songs.

That's part of what I wish our communion would be. Jesus died. He rose. Our sins are forgiven. We are part of a covenant so multi-faceted that is sealed with His blood. And we are one in Him. He loves us. We love each other. He is at work in us, purifying for Himself His own special people, zealous for good works. We look forward to His return. He will return for His Bride, the Church. Then He will drink again the cup that last He drank at the Last Supper we celebrate during Communion. And after He made that promise, He asked us to remember Him.

I'm reading Rilla of Ingleside by L.M. Montgomery just now. It is a tale of the families at home during World War I. They sent their sons, brothers, and beloveds to war, never knowing if they would return or what would be changed when they did. A young man visited his sweetheart on his last leave before going over the ocean to fight. "You won't forget me, will you?" he asked. "You'll wait for me?" And the sweetheart would always promise not only to wait, but to be deserving of the love of such a brave, selfless man.

I think that is another part of what Jesus was saying at the Last Supper.

To God be all glory.