I held bread. I cupped it in my hand. I can only eat certain kinds of bread - bread without gluten. To eat normal bread, is to eat poison. Bread for some is all that is eaten for the day. For others it is a dream. This bread, was broken, others held different pieces. I held the cup. Dark red colour of the fruit of the vine. Liquid, fluid, sweet. For some they will hold a tainted and sour cup. Within, the sign of God's covenant with creation, sealed in the activity of God in Christ. Seemingly impossibly and unreal. Beyond human comprehension. Yet, there . . . . |
I held the breathe of life. The bread passed on, the cup handed to the next. In my empty hands, sat the breathe of life. The air that would move from the world around me to within my lungs. Taken from the immediate surroundings, shared back to my empty hands and beyond. In and out. To breathe. To live. My empty hands, holding the breathe for life.
I held life and love. The story of God's deep love. Of life given and received. Of life called out from nothing. Of love known. God's choosing, not mine. God's activity, not mine. God's calling into the intimate dance of Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. All deep need and desire, all fear, all hope, carried into the dance. Needs, wants, desires, falling away. Completeness held.
Attend to what you hold, when next you hold bread, when next wine touches your lips. . . .