The Last, Last Supper

As I continue to reflect on my ministry ending in Harrison, I want to share with you an experience I wrote about over 15 years ago.

Would it be rolling, roaring, earth shattering peals of thunder, smoke, burning bushes, and bolts of lightning? Would it be a wild man with a beard, wearing an animal skin or a bright, shining angel appearing from nowhere? These are the images I carry in my head as I imagine a visitation from God. Haven't you ever wondered, if God spoke to you, what would it look and sound like? No doubt He would use lots of Hollywood-like special effects. God would have to hire Stephen Spielberg to be his producer and director.

Well, it happened to me. I spent some time with God yesterday. No smoke and fire and I didn't hear any thunder. Nothing earth shattering – just love and tears and kisses and gentle nudges. Yesterday, I went to visit an older member of the church I serve. And God was there.

Like most people I take the time to get to know, she is a special person. She is strong, loving, interesting, smart, fun to be with and she has beautiful brown eyes. As you may have already guessed, I love her. She is the grandma I never had. The other thing you must know about her is that she is dying.

Being a physical person and a visual learner, I should have seen God coming. As the drama unfolded before me, I did begin to see God's leading and presence. The first nudge I felt from God was a desire to take her communion. It is unusual for me to do communion since the elders of the church usually take it to the sick and shut-in. Fortunately I respond to that leading. The second nudge was during the preparation of the communion kit. Instead of packing two communion cups in the little black box, (one for her and one for me) I felt like I should bring along a handful. I had no idea why.

When I pulled into the driveway I was surprised to see so many vehicles there. Entering the house, I found several family members were visiting. My first thought was that, with so many people in the house, I should just forget about the idea of having communion. My idea of communion was just her and me, not a crowd. If I had wanted to take communion with a bunch of people I could go to church Sunday morning. When I asked the family, they said she was very tired and had not been doing much communicating. They were having trouble understanding what she wanted and what she was saying. But the mention of sharing in communion perked her right up. When her daughter asked, "Mom, would you like some communion?" her head popped up and she answered loud and clear, "Yes, I would." I began to sense the presence of God.

As I began preparation for the service I asked around to see if anyone else wanted to join us. All this time, more family kept coming in the drive. I could see them arriving through the bedroom window. The presence of God was getting thick. I could see – literally see – Him bringing the family together for something special. When we gathered in the bedroom, nine of us were communing together. It was cramped and crowded in the small bedroom. I had used up all the communion elements I had brought. It was not what I had planned or expected. I wasn't completely comfortable. But it was wonderful. It was a holy time.

We joined hands and prayed, thanking God for the gift of life, the gift of sharing our lives together, the gift of her special life and the gift of eternal life through Jesus Christ. Then I spoke the familiar words of Christ. "This is my body, broken for you. Take and eat. This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Drink of it, all of you." I spoke and we wept. Those familiar words reminded us of God's marvelous love... of lives and moments shared. And it reminded us that we would never again share together in this celebration of life in this world. But we were also reminded that we would share life together again in eternity.

Everyone in the room was in tears. Everyone except that special lady. For us this was, in some sadly special way, our last, Last Supper. Our last time to share this holy meal with her. For us, it was an ending. For her, it was a new beginning.

I got the call early this morning. She had answered her Father's call, "It's time to come home for supper."

Copyright © 1995, William T. McConnell, All Rights Reserved