He Died For This One, Too, and Also This One, and Also This One
I had the honor of serving communion at our morning service yesterday. We do it by intinction, which means we all come to the front, take our bread, and dip it in the cup. I held the cup. It was overwhelming to think that Jesus died for every person I served: people of all ages and walks of life, the rich and the poor, children of all races and ethnicities.
With every "this is the blood of Christ, shed for you" that I uttered, the magnitude of the Easter message seemed to grow. It was if, in the midst of the din of music playing and people shuffling forward and then back to their seats, the angels of God were whispering to me, "Yes, He died for this one, too . . . and, yes, this one, also . . . and yes, this one, as well." And when it was my turn: "And yes, for you, too."
Maybe it is possible to think that one is OK, that even if one isn't, life is somehow graded on a curve, or, that failing, that no matter how steep a hole one has dug, one can get his own way out. I certainly act sometimes like some of these statements are true. But when you come to the realization that there is no saving yourself, oh what a relief it is when a saving way comes your way.
What a relief that the tomb was empty that morning, and with it a conclusive and decisive wiping clean of my slate. What a relief that He is risen, and with Him me too someday. And with me so many people of so many types, yesterday's diverse procession being just a glimpse of a far vaster and far more multi-layered procession.