The Sunday before last Jason and I were asked to serve communion at our church along with some other young couples. We said yes with little hesitation, pleased that we could help do our part as a member in this seemingly small way. In the few days leading up to it very little thought was given to what we would be doing other than what would be worn (people were going to be looking at me!), who would be willing to watch Cora when we were up front (thanks, Nana), and lots of prayers that I would not have to hold the tray with the little cups of grape juice in them, as "clumsy" and "dropper" could very well be a part of my given name.
Sunday morning came, I dressed in my Sunday best, and off we went. When we reached the designated meeting spot, we were told that we were, in fact, in charge of the trays of juice. (Dear Jesus, You're funny.)
Jason and I were assigned to the least populated section of church (which leads me to believe Pastor Steve knew on some level who he was dealing with), and off we went. The serving itself ended up going off without a hitch, and before I knew it we were standing in the front of church, waiting for our own bread and "wine" to be given to us. It was at this moment that I was (figuratively) knocked upside the head by a realization so concrete that it almost (literally) took the breath right out of me.
You see, I was not a "good girl" growing up, in many senses of the word. I liked my social life and I didn't like rules, which was not a very productive combination. For many years I lived according only to getting what I wanted, how I wanted it, with little regard to the impact it would have on those around me. I was at the center of my universe, and expected to be at the center of everyone else's as well. I was still friendly, still kind (as long as you didn't try to give me a curfew), and still church-going. But I was not good.
And standing there in the front of church, the only thought that kept crashing in unrelenting waves through my mind was, "I am not worthy. I am not worthy. I am not worthy". And I have never been so right about anything in my entire life.
I had not earned in any sense of the word the right to serve anybody the blood of Christ. Who was I, to be serving this precious drink to Jesus' beloved's? Who was I, to be a part of this holy, this sacred, this ancient rite? I was nobody, and that simple truth brought me lower than I had ever gone before.
But the funny thing was, I welcomed that feeling. I wanted more of it. I wanted my whole being to be so overcome with how undeserving I was that I could almost refuse this food and drink before me. Because only then would I understand what I was really a part of in that moment.
And that's where my mind is at now, as we step into the beginning of this most important week in a believer's year. I find myself wanting desperately to know my sin. I want to recognize how unworthy I am. I want to be thrown into the depths of my depravity, and kept there day after day until this Sunday, when the knowledge of Christ's sacrifice for me will be the one thing that can rise me back up.
I want to know how low I should go, so I can see how high He will take me.
Dear Lord in heaven,
I pray this day for brokenness. I pray for unfiltered knowledge of my sin. I pray for the clarity to see the awfulness of my ways, and know there is nothing I can do to make myself worthy of Your love, much less Your life.
Convict me, Lord, in every word, every thought, every deed. Show me how every breath I breathe is somehow tainted with the wickedness of this world, and the sin in my heart. Help me to recognize that without You I would be nothing. Without You I would be doomed to being a lost soul, in this lost body, aimlessly roaming in this lost world.
Do not shield me from the pain of Your sacrifice. I want to ache when I think of Your beaten body carrying Your own cross up the mountain, I want to feel physically ill when I imagine the moment the nails were driven through Your holy, yet human hands. I want to weep when I picture You hanging there, struggling to breathe, waiting for death to finally take You. I want to be driven to my knees knowing that You went through all that for me.
I am not worthy. I am not worthy. I am not worthy.
Break me, Lord. Break me, so that I can have full knowledge of Your love for me, Your grace in response to my sin, and the holes in Your hands that can heal the holes in my heart.
Make this week a hard one. Make it hurt at every turn. Make it unbearable. And then remind me that You did it all so that You could make me Yours.
I'm looking forward to it.
I love You, Lord.
In Your most precious, holy, sacrificial name,