Body and Blood

Republished from House of ROC I am sitting here holding the body and blood of Christ in my hands. Words wash over me again: “the blessing of hardship”, “sharing in the suffering of Christ”, “makes us more like Him”. I become distinctly aware of my role in his death. I usually tend to see myself as a friend, a devoted follower of his, an advocate who would never let this atrocity happen, but the reality is that I am very far from who he was and he was very alone in his death. My sin put him there My sin left him shamed misunderstood afraid completely alone I think of him in Gethsemane and the panic, the pleading, the desperation for rescue from what he knew he was going to go through. Pleading against the penalty I had established for him. Longing for another way, any way, to play his role in this love story, but there is no other way. He must walk through the fear and pain. He must trust in the process, trust that the Author of time and existence knows what He is writing. But as I hold that expression of body and blood, I want out. I don’t want to remember, I don’t want to acknowledge my part in this. I feel his fear, abandonment and heartbreak and know that I have done this to him and I want to deny it, to pretend it was someone else, anyone else, everyone else. [full text] Technorati Tags: Christianity, Church, Eucharist, Sacraments