The Last Supper

When I think about the last meal Jesus had with his disciples I picture the season we are in now. Normally this story is told around Easter since it takes place right before Jesus’ crucifixion. I would typically write about being thankful or the countless blessings that God has freely given me. But I am sitting here, and I keep going back to that day. I picture Jesus sitting at a table as his people, his village, surround him. These were the people that he did life with. They followed him everywhere he went. They watched leapers be healed. They saw the dead come alive. They witnessed the blind opening their eyes for the first time. They saw the lame take their first steps. And here they were. Gathered around a table communing and fellowshipping with one another. 

The Passover was one of the most important feasts on the Jewish calendar and all the Jewish men were expected to go. This was a time for them to remember and celebrate the deliverance of Israel to Egypt. Jesus was so excited to spend this day with his brothers. He already knew this would be the last meal he shared with them. I can see everyone laughing and talking. Sharing memories and stories with one another, much like we will do in a couple of days. And I picture Jesus sitting and soaking it all in. He knew what was coming. He knew he was about to die a gruesome death. He knew he was going to be betrayed. He knew that his friend would deny him three times. Then, he stands up and takes the bread in his hands and starts to tear it apart. He says this is my body. Then he holds up the wine and says this, this is my blood. Take it, and remember me. I don’t think the disciples knew what to expect when they arrived to the upper room. I don’t think the disciples could have known the painful revelation this night would turn into. I can’t imagine being a disciple and hearing these words come out of Jesus’ mouth. I can barely read the story of the crucifixion without tears streaming down my face. 

The story of our redemption breaks me every time. The truth is, Jesus was willing to go to the cross. He went to the cross, not for him, but for us. And because Jesus died on the cross we get to experience the power of grace. And through grace we find joy. And through joy we find thankfulness. And through it all, we find Jesus. My prayer is that as we spend our holiday at tables surrounded by “our people” that we would remember this day. That we would remember, in the midst of the chaos, where our true joy and hope comes from.