Broken

Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. Matthew 26:26b (KJV)

“Here you go,” my husband murmured, passing the communion tray to me. I thanked him and took the nestled cups; juice in the top, cracker in the bottom. The tray continued its journey down the row, and I settled back to remember our Lord’s sacrifice. I closed my eyes. The piano’s melody washed over me, and my heart welled in praise for redemption. Who was I that God had been mindful of me?

Prepared to take the elements, I pulled the cups apart to get the cracker. It fell into my hand in several tiny pieces. Annoyed that someone had crushed it, my sense of God’s presence followed the communion plate down the row. But I could not escape His voice.

“Do you not see that My body was broken?”

Tears stung my eyes as I looked at the little broken wafer in my hand. The fragments were no longer an annoyance; they represented the cruel death of my Savior. Being broken was neither convenient nor pretty. It disfigured and demanded pain—pain that would have been ours had He not taken it upon Himself.

Nibbling thankfully on each miniscule piece, I settled back to remember our Lord’s sacrifice. I closed my eyes. The piano’s melody washed over me, and my heart welled in praise for redemption. Who was I that God had been mindful of me?

Father, we cannot fathom the pain You must have felt as Your Son was broken for our sin. We are grateful that You loved us so. Open our eyes daily to see Your love, and help us to walk in that love as Your dear children.

© 2010 Katherine A. Fuller