Reflections on the Resurrection: Bread and Jesus

There are few Christian doctrines that bring hope to my heart like that of the resurrection. In a world where so much is broken by sin and death and decay that even our own bodies revolt against us, I long for resurrection.

A new earth. A new body. A body that is at last, as N.T. Wright so often states, "incorruptible."

Last week in church we celebrated the Lord's Supper together. I try to frame it in new ways some months, since the sacrament means so very many things. It's a time of remembrance, when we meditate on the sacrifice of Jesus for us. It's a holy time, where the real presence of Jesus is known in our midst. It's a time of beautiful equality in the church, when we come together around a common table. It's a time to reflect on our lives, seeking out any hidden sins that are separating us from God and one another.

It's also a foretaste of the great heavenly banquet to come.

 - painting by Sieger Köder, from the Vera Icona blog.

I cannot wait for this heavenly banquet. Described in Revelation 19, the wedding feast is a feast of great joy and celebration. It will be a wedding banquet like no other.

There is so much that separates us here on earth--gender and race, class and language, geography and economy and political beliefs.

For those of us in the gluten free community, food separates us, too. We can't try out that new restaurant in town or participate in a potluck like everyone else. We can't take a bite of those amazing looking cupcakes at the local bake sale. We can't ask for a second--or even a first--piece of pie at the town festival. Food separates us.

--from Pastor James Ryle's Truth Works blog.

But at the wedding feast of the Lamb - the great supper where all who belong to Jesus are gathered - there will be no more separation. No more division. Not over language or gender or race or class. Not over all the things that separate us from one another today. Not even over food.

At that wedding supper, we will eat. You. Me.

I'm sure the food itself will pale in comparison to being with Jesus. I know that. But there will also be incredible joy in sitting around a table with no more division. A table where I can ask someone to pass the rolls without any fear. Where no one is afraid of the peanuts. Where no one has to ask twice how the great feast was prepared, and if there was any cross-contamination.

We will feast with abandon, and without fear.

I cannot wait.