This Cup

One thing that I love about our church is that every Sunday we partake in the Lord's Supper. Some people might argue that in doing so, it will become more commonplace and possibly lose its meaning. Through my experience, I can only argue vehemently against that point. Kneeling before God each week, remembering Who He is and the great sacrifice that He made for me to cover my sin is certainly the way that I need to start my week. One certainly doesn't have to have the bread and the cup to do that, but I am glad that we do.

Today as our pastor led us to pray and prepare for the breaking of the bread, I was crumbling. Coming into church that morning, I was somewhat overtaken by all the children and pregnant ladies around me. This was my first time back at church since our miscarriage, so there were lots of hugs and "I'm sorry's," followed by tears. I must've been holding back a floodgate of tears, because once they started, I just couldn't seem to stop them.

So we're preparing for the Lord's Supper, and I'm praying through some things in my heart, most of which are complicated, opposing thoughts of "Lord, I love you and I trust you and I want what you want for me," and "I do not want to be part of this plan you have for me. Why does she get two precious little girls and I still only have one? Why does she get to still be beautifully pregnant right now and I am not? Why do they get to have six kids? Why? Why? Why?"

With my head in my hands, pouring my heart out to the Lord while tears flowed, my thoughts shifted to the communion that was about to take place.  I thought about the cup and remembered a time when Jesus wept as he had prayed for Father to fulfill His will in a way other than what Jesus knew was about to happen. Jesus knew the pain and suffering He was about to step into. He knew that God could deliver him from it if He wanted to. But Jesus had a different heart than I did as He continued in His prayer, "But not My will but Yours be done." Submission in its highest, purest form as Jesus conquered the fleshly desire to just walk away from a Father God who requires everything.

Eyes closed, as I played through that scene, I saw myself kneeling before God, beside Jesus. I saw Jesus wrestle with the emotions that I was wrestling with - knowing the plan God has, but wanting it to be easier. Then He spoke the words, "Not My will but Yours be done." I swallowed hard as everything in the garden stopped. The wind stopped whistling through the trees on that cold night and the grasshoppers and tree frogs stopped their singing as Jesus turned to me and said, "Your turn now, my child. Your turn to pray it too." And with Jesus beckoning me (and with my knowledge that His cross was to be infinitely more cruel than my own will ever be), how could I deny Him my trust? My turn. "Not my will......but Yours be done, God. Whatever it is you have planned for me, I submit to it. I trust You."

And as the scene evaporated, I heard my pastor invite us to drink and eat in remembrance. As I did, I prayed again, thankful this time that Jesus really had submitted to the will of His Father, that He had gone before me to lay down His life in the ultimate sacrifice for me. And that in doing so, He even stopped for a moment to show believers what true obedience to the will of the Father looks like in the midst of the greatest sacrifice one could possibly give - His life.