broken body

A couple of days ago in chapel we took communion. Actually, we take communion a lot around here. I love it, particularly because I still feel a disconnect with the mystery. It may be because I grew up in the church, and it was a part of my regular life. I think I take it for granted, kind of like how I take for granted that I have an affectionate family. I don't ponder how truly awesome it is that I know that I am loved because it is all I've ever known. But, for many, this is a sad reality. Many people my age did not have that assurance and would kill for it. I have never had a supernatural mountain top moment during communion, and somehow that makes the celebration thereof intriguing to me. I paid attention to the songs we sang, and they tended to emphasize the blood poured out. And I began to ponder even further.

When we focus too much attention on the atoning work of the blood we miss the identification with Christ available to us in his brokenness. How can we look at our sin until we have made peace with our suffering? How did we get so preoccupied with the blood? It is significant, yes! The shaming and suffering of Jesus is discussed at length, and yet we rush ahead to the cross, to the blood. We are so uncomfortable with the guilt implication of our sin that we miss how he is also capable of understanding our suffering, our shame. How should we understand his understanding of betrayal and abandonment? How do we process the idea that he didn't just experience suffering like ours, but somehow on the cross he suffered our grief and our suffering?

This points to a bigger issue that I have been pondering a lot lately. Why does the church spend so much time focusing on salvation from hell when salvation from sin is just as significant. People hunger for the power of a joyful life today. They hunger for freedom. They hunger for a kingdom life lived here on earth. But we, church, do not offer that. We fail to preach sanctification.

Soundtrack: Sweetly Broken, Jeremy Riddle