At the Cross, At the Cross

"At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light, And the burden of my heart rolled away-rolled away. It was there by faith I received my sight, And now I am happy all the day!

"First, hold the bread in your hand and say: Thank You, Jesus, for Your broken body.  Thank You for bearing my symptoms and sicknesses at the cross so that I may our health and wholeness.  I declare that by Your stripes, by the beatings Yu bore, by the lashes which fell on Your back, I am completely healed.  I believe and I receive Your resurrection life in my body today..." ( Eating Your Way to Wholeness: A Practical Guide to the Holy Communion, by Joseph Prince)

"At the Cross" jumped out at me as I was reading "the bread" declaration and holding the Sacramental element.  My daily, sacred respite.  However,  this morning "At the cross" hit me like ice-cold water dashed directly in my face.  Startled, I sat trancelike as my eyes widened, really opened, and a visceral sensation coursed through me.   I saw Jesus on the Cross as vividly as if I were there.  I cannot count the number of times I have read these words--- hundreds, conservatively---yet, I had never experienced what I did that morning.

"I once was blind but now I see." Hallelujah! This morning I saw Jesus crucified, felt his suffering, his sacrifice, his love.

The horror, debasement, cruelty, and Crucifixion of "He who knew no sin" finally hit the deepest chamber in my heart! Jesus is the perfect model.  And if I just used "the good sense God gave you," (as Mama declared), I'd choose Him.  My Grandmother, a stately nearly six-foot-tall daughter of slaves, demonstrated a spirituality it took me years to appreciate.  Mama only took her apron off on Sundays when she went to Church, dressed to the nines! "Take it to the Lord in prayer, Baby" she advised as her standard refrain.

I grew up in a conservative congregation that served Holy Communion only on the First Sunday.  Deacons, dressed in navy blue or black suits. white shirts, and dark ties and the Mother's Board, pristine in white dresses, white, crocheted hair coverings, and gloves, passed the elements as the Pastor read First Corinthians 10: 23-26.  That was the way it was.  Every first Sunday and only on First Sundays.

For years, I didn't realize the ritualistic nature of the Sacrament that my childhood church practiced.  It carried little spiritual meaning for me if it carried any value at all.  If someone had suggested taking Holy Communion even two Sundays a month, I would've have been appalled! Many years later, though, with spiritually enlightened vision,  I read  Luke 22:19 and 1 Corinthians 11:23-26. 

Now a fledgling disciple, I began a journey to enlightenment.   I didn't have to wait until First Sunday to partake of  Holy Communion!  "And he took bread and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you.  Do this in remembrance of me." (Luke 22:19)  And, 1 Corinthians 11: 26: "For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes." 

Free at last! I continue partaking  Holy Communion daily.  Holy Communion becomes my pathway to the Cross, where rebirth, healing, hope, and victory reside.  I don't always limit myself to a daily dose. In fact, the Pastor of the church I attend suggests that we can take it with the frequency we follow prescription directions: three or four times daily.  She does not suggest we stop taking prescribed medicine, I hasten to add.   Justifiably, we honor the price He paid for us!

Simply, Holy Communion has no contraindications.  Thank You, Jesus!