Forgiveness is such a hard thing sometimes and yet Jesus was clear on its necessity when he said that God would forgive our sins if we forgive others and would not forgive us if we did not forgive others (Matthew 6:14-15). Peter asked, "how many times shall we forgive? Seven times?" Jesus answered: "Seventy times seven!" (Matthew 18:21-22). Think of how many times God forgives us. Our accumulated sins would add up to much more than 490 and yet, every Sunday, at the Lord's Table we remember his words: "This is my blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many for the forgiveness of sins (Matthew 26:28).
A rabbi was scheduled to speak on forgiveness, says Rachel Remen in My Grandfather's Blessings, "but instead he walked out into the congregation, took his infant daughter from his wife, and carrying her in his arms, stepped up to the podium. The little girl was perhaps a year old and she was adorable. From her father's arms she smiled at the congregation. Every heart melted. Turning to her daddy, she patted him on the cheek with her tiny hands. He smiled fondly at her and with his customary dignity began a rather traditional Yom Kuppur sermon.
The baby girl, feeling his attention shift away from her, reached forward and grabbed his nose. Gently he freed himself and continued the sermon. After a few minutes, she took his tie and put it in her mouth. The entire congregation chuckled. The rabbi rescued his tie and smiled at his child. She put her tiny arms around his neck. Looking at us over the top of her head, he said, "Think about it. Is there anything she can do that you could not forgive her for?" Throughout the room people began to nod in recognition, thinking perhaps of their own children and grandchildren. Just then, she reached up and grabbed his eyeglasses. Everyone laughed out loud.
Retrieving his eyeglasses and settling them on his nose, the rabbi laughed as well. Still smiling, he waited for silence. When it came he asked, "And when does that stop? When does it get hard to forgive? At three? At seven? At fourteen? At thirty-five? How old does someone have to be before you forget that everyone is a child of God?" (p 99).
Does God ever forget that we are his children? When does God stop forgiving? At a certain number of sins, or at a certain age? Of course not! If the Lord's Supper says anything at all it says, "come as you are, co0me with your sins and guilt, come at any age and at any time with faith and repentance, and receive this cup and hear again his words, "this is my blood ... shed for the forgiveness of sins."
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Discerning the Body 1 Corinthians 11:29-30
Sometimes you have to work a little hard to avoid divisions in the church. This was probably true at Corinth. We know that the church in New Testament times met in homes. We also know that Chloe, mentioned by Paul in 1 Corinthians, was one of the more affluent members of the church. Her home, possibly where the church met, could well fit those discovered by archaeologists. It would have an enclosed atrium, open to the sky, with a small pool in the center to catch rain water and room for no more than 15 to 20 people. A door would lead into a larger room that contained a U-shaped table for dining. Another 20 people might fit around this table. You can see how this physical arrangement might contribute to problems of division if more than 20 people attended.
When the house church at Corinth met it was to have the Lord's Supper as part of a love-feast, something like our potluck meal. But they had a problem. At least Paul thought so. He said to them in 1 Cor. 11: "... when you come together as a church, I hear that divisions exist among you (18) ... for in your eating each one takes his own supper first ... do you despise the church of God and shame those who have nothing?" (21-22).
There were poor and needy, even slaves among them. Since the church met in the evening, and it was a normal working day, not everyone could get there early. Those who came early would claim the dining room while late-comers would be in the atrium. Some had plenty of food and others went hungry; some ate without waiting for others and failed to share what they had.
A few verses later Paul states the consequence of this non-caring, divisive behavior as he says, "All who eat and drink without discerning the body eat and drink judgment against themselves. For this reason many of you are weak and ill ..." (29-30 NRSV). The were not "discerning the body". What does that mean? To "discern" is to look at something carefully with the eyes or with the mind. When I go to the pantry to find a certain product I have to look carefully and note the differences in size, color, label, etc. in order to find what I want (even then, my wife says, I have a hard time seeing what is there). Paul is saying, 'you Corinthians are not looking carefully at each other. You are letting your own selfish desires blind you to the needs and problems of others.' They were concerned about themselves but not the body as a whole.
We too can come to the Lord's Table thinking only of our own needs, not caring about others. In our individualistic culture we tend to shut out others and their needs. Steve Richardson, college professor and minister, tells of a lady in a nursing home who had a bad week. She was a loving, caring, gentle friend who had received bad news about people she cared for. In fact, several things that week had troubled her and she found herself feeling teary when she came to the communion service held at the home. As the elements were being passed the pianist played a hymn that had been the favorite hymn of her beloved grandmother. Suddenly, the emotions of the week hit her all at once and she began sobbing -- loudly -- not just a quiet flow of tears, but intense and obvious. Whereupon the woman behind her said, "Oh, shut up and drink your juice!"
We would certainly not be so crude, but when we partake do we think only of ourselves, or do we "discern the body?" Are we concerned and care about others and the problems they have, or are we, like Corinth, uncaring and divided?
When the house church at Corinth met it was to have the Lord's Supper as part of a love-feast, something like our potluck meal. But they had a problem. At least Paul thought so. He said to them in 1 Cor. 11: "... when you come together as a church, I hear that divisions exist among you (18) ... for in your eating each one takes his own supper first ... do you despise the church of God and shame those who have nothing?" (21-22).
There were poor and needy, even slaves among them. Since the church met in the evening, and it was a normal working day, not everyone could get there early. Those who came early would claim the dining room while late-comers would be in the atrium. Some had plenty of food and others went hungry; some ate without waiting for others and failed to share what they had.
A few verses later Paul states the consequence of this non-caring, divisive behavior as he says, "All who eat and drink without discerning the body eat and drink judgment against themselves. For this reason many of you are weak and ill ..." (29-30 NRSV). The were not "discerning the body". What does that mean? To "discern" is to look at something carefully with the eyes or with the mind. When I go to the pantry to find a certain product I have to look carefully and note the differences in size, color, label, etc. in order to find what I want (even then, my wife says, I have a hard time seeing what is there). Paul is saying, 'you Corinthians are not looking carefully at each other. You are letting your own selfish desires blind you to the needs and problems of others.' They were concerned about themselves but not the body as a whole.
We too can come to the Lord's Table thinking only of our own needs, not caring about others. In our individualistic culture we tend to shut out others and their needs. Steve Richardson, college professor and minister, tells of a lady in a nursing home who had a bad week. She was a loving, caring, gentle friend who had received bad news about people she cared for. In fact, several things that week had troubled her and she found herself feeling teary when she came to the communion service held at the home. As the elements were being passed the pianist played a hymn that had been the favorite hymn of her beloved grandmother. Suddenly, the emotions of the week hit her all at once and she began sobbing -- loudly -- not just a quiet flow of tears, but intense and obvious. Whereupon the woman behind her said, "Oh, shut up and drink your juice!"
We would certainly not be so crude, but when we partake do we think only of ourselves, or do we "discern the body?" Are we concerned and care about others and the problems they have, or are we, like Corinth, uncaring and divided?
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Our Daily Work Matthew 16:24
A painting by the twentieth century artist, Stanley Spencer, conveys the truth that sacrificial loving is our daily work. Spencer lived in the small English village of Cookham and did all of his religious paintings there. Cookham became the location, for instance, of his painting, "Christ Carrying His Cross." The usual shops line the main street -- bakery, butcher, tea room, and others. People are all around, going about their business and there, walking up the street is Jesus, carrying his cross.
The striking thing about the picture, says Daniel Taylor who saw it in a London show of Spencer's paintings, is that no one in the street is looking at him. "All are going about their business, including two workmen following behind Christ carrying ladders that intersect each other in a way that mirrors Christ's cross ... . Spencer depicts Christ as he does -- walking through the streets of an ordinary village with his cross, like the workmen with their ladders -- to show ... that 'sacrificial loving is daily work, and joyful work at that.' Jesus is just doing his job (or the job, as Spencer insists), the thing he came to do ...." (Daniel Taylor. In Search of Sacred Places, 51-52).
Jesus had a job to do. Even as a boy he knew this, for he told his parents when they found him in the temple, "I must be about my Father's business." Later, on three different occasions, he told his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and be crucified. Then, in Luke 9:51 we are told that "He set his face (or was determined) to go to Jerusalem" -- and to the cross. Sacrificial loving was his work. He had a job to do.
And so do we. In the painting two workmen follow Jesus carrying ladders that intersect to look like a cross. Its as if they are following his admonition in Matthew 16:24, "If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me."
In the painting all of this takes place in the center of human activity -- on main street -- amidst the busyness of ordinary pursuits. This is where living by the cross becomes meaningful, not just in church or in a separated place, but in everyday life. On the job, in the home, on the playground -- sacrificial loving is our daily work.
We are reminded of this each Sunday at the Lord's Table when we take the stuff of everyday life, the fruit of the vine and bread and hear once more his words: "This is my body ... this is my blood ... for you."
The striking thing about the picture, says Daniel Taylor who saw it in a London show of Spencer's paintings, is that no one in the street is looking at him. "All are going about their business, including two workmen following behind Christ carrying ladders that intersect each other in a way that mirrors Christ's cross ... . Spencer depicts Christ as he does -- walking through the streets of an ordinary village with his cross, like the workmen with their ladders -- to show ... that 'sacrificial loving is daily work, and joyful work at that.' Jesus is just doing his job (or the job, as Spencer insists), the thing he came to do ...." (Daniel Taylor. In Search of Sacred Places, 51-52).
Jesus had a job to do. Even as a boy he knew this, for he told his parents when they found him in the temple, "I must be about my Father's business." Later, on three different occasions, he told his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and be crucified. Then, in Luke 9:51 we are told that "He set his face (or was determined) to go to Jerusalem" -- and to the cross. Sacrificial loving was his work. He had a job to do.
And so do we. In the painting two workmen follow Jesus carrying ladders that intersect to look like a cross. Its as if they are following his admonition in Matthew 16:24, "If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me."
In the painting all of this takes place in the center of human activity -- on main street -- amidst the busyness of ordinary pursuits. This is where living by the cross becomes meaningful, not just in church or in a separated place, but in everyday life. On the job, in the home, on the playground -- sacrificial loving is our daily work.
We are reminded of this each Sunday at the Lord's Table when we take the stuff of everyday life, the fruit of the vine and bread and hear once more his words: "This is my body ... this is my blood ... for you."
Thursday, August 23, 2007
His Broken People 2 Corinthians 6:9-11
If this seems a little strange at first, bear with me. I want to begin with one of Shel Silverstein's humorous poems, but one that leads to a profound concept:
Hector the Collector
Hector the Collector collected bits of string
Collected dolls with broken heads and rusty bells that would not ring.
Pieces out of picture puzzles, bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Old chipped vases, half shoelaces, Gatlin' guns that wouldn't shoot,
Leaky boats that wouldn't float and stopped up horns that wouldn't toot.
Butter knives that had no handles, copper keys that fit no locks,
Rings that were too small for fingers, dried-up leaves and patched-up socks.
Worn out belts that had no buckles, 'lectric trains that had no tracks,
Airplane models, broken bottles, three-legged chairs and cups with cracks.
Hector the Collector loved these things with all his soul --
Loved them more than shining diamonds, loved them more than glistenin' gold.
Hector called to all the people, "Come and share my treasure trunk!"
And all the silly sightless people came and looked ...
and called it junk.
(Shell Silverstein. Where the Sidewalk Ends)
Jesus tended to collect broken people, people who were marred and scarred by failings of all kinds. Peter the impetuous, Simon the insurgent, Matthew the tax collector, a woman of the streets, and many others. Later when Paul looked at the composition of the church in Corinth he said to them:
"Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor male prostitutes, nor sodomites, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you." Sounds a little like Hector the Collector. God gathered a bunch of broken people, sinners, and called them saints, for as Paul went on to say: "But you were washed, ... sanctified ... justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God." As much as Hector loved his collection, God loves us more -- and the "silly sightless" world doesn't understand.
But here we are, washed by the blood of Christ and in the waters of baptism, gathered at this table as his broken people made whole by the power of Jesus Christ. If I may quote Paul again, "Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift" (2 Corinthians 9:15).
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
'GO -- YOU ARE SENT OUT" John 20:21
On the first day of the week, after the resurrection, Jesus met with his disciples, very likely in the upper room where the Last Supper took place, and reminded them of their commission: "As the Father has sent me, I also send you."
That commission was uppermost in my mind last week because I attended the Week of Missions at Winema, a beach-front conference center on the central coast of Oregon. Among the missionaries were Bernie and Kelly Bledsoe from Kansas who serve with the Christian Missionary Fellowship in the Ivory Coast, West Africa. He is a Doctor and she assists in the clinic they operate. He moved us deeply with his passion for working with those infected with HIV and Aids. Mike and Lida Sweeney, with Pioneer Bible Translators in Papua New Guenea, are truly pioneers in a sometimes hostile environment. He is now the professor of missions at Emmanuel School of Religion in Tennessee. We also heard reports of work among Russians and Mongols in Irkutsk, Russia, among Chinese in Hong Kong, and new church planting in New England.
As I thought about the missionary messages at the conference it occurred to me that the Lord's Supper is missionary in nature. Not that everyone who partakes is meant to go off to Kenya or some other place. Rather, in the generic sense, as we partake we receive the benefits of God's missionary action in Sending Christ, and we are reminded once again that we are God's "sent out" people.
One of the names that came to be used for the Lord's Supper when Greek replaced Latin reflects the missionary significance of the supper. Sometime late in the second or early in the third century Latin replaced Greek as the language use in the church. Tom Wright explains, "...the end of the meal would be signaled by the person presiding saying, 'Go -- you are sent out.' This ... is a powerful part of the whole event, as those who have fed upon the death and risen life of King Jesus are equipped to serve him in the world. The Latin for this phrase is, 'ite -- missa est.' From this there developed the word 'Mass', the meal that ends with this sending-out, this commissioning" (Tom Wright, The Meal Jesus Gave Us, 36).
While we do not call this event by a Latin name, we recognize its connection to the great commission of Jesus to "go into all the world and preach the gospel." Each time we partake we are involved in and commit ourselves once more to God's mission in some way.
However, I fear that we have lost this sense of being sent out -- commissioned -- perhaps by moving the Lord's Supper away from the end of the service and highlighting the sermon. It might be well for us at times to have the Lord's Supper last and recapture the sense of mission it contains.
On this first day of the week as we meet with him at his table, may we also hear him saying to us, "Go -- you are sent out" -- to be my people in this world.
(Used at Twin Oaks Christian Church, August 12, 2007).
That commission was uppermost in my mind last week because I attended the Week of Missions at Winema, a beach-front conference center on the central coast of Oregon. Among the missionaries were Bernie and Kelly Bledsoe from Kansas who serve with the Christian Missionary Fellowship in the Ivory Coast, West Africa. He is a Doctor and she assists in the clinic they operate. He moved us deeply with his passion for working with those infected with HIV and Aids. Mike and Lida Sweeney, with Pioneer Bible Translators in Papua New Guenea, are truly pioneers in a sometimes hostile environment. He is now the professor of missions at Emmanuel School of Religion in Tennessee. We also heard reports of work among Russians and Mongols in Irkutsk, Russia, among Chinese in Hong Kong, and new church planting in New England.
As I thought about the missionary messages at the conference it occurred to me that the Lord's Supper is missionary in nature. Not that everyone who partakes is meant to go off to Kenya or some other place. Rather, in the generic sense, as we partake we receive the benefits of God's missionary action in Sending Christ, and we are reminded once again that we are God's "sent out" people.
One of the names that came to be used for the Lord's Supper when Greek replaced Latin reflects the missionary significance of the supper. Sometime late in the second or early in the third century Latin replaced Greek as the language use in the church. Tom Wright explains, "...the end of the meal would be signaled by the person presiding saying, 'Go -- you are sent out.' This ... is a powerful part of the whole event, as those who have fed upon the death and risen life of King Jesus are equipped to serve him in the world. The Latin for this phrase is, 'ite -- missa est.' From this there developed the word 'Mass', the meal that ends with this sending-out, this commissioning" (Tom Wright, The Meal Jesus Gave Us, 36).
While we do not call this event by a Latin name, we recognize its connection to the great commission of Jesus to "go into all the world and preach the gospel." Each time we partake we are involved in and commit ourselves once more to God's mission in some way.
However, I fear that we have lost this sense of being sent out -- commissioned -- perhaps by moving the Lord's Supper away from the end of the service and highlighting the sermon. It might be well for us at times to have the Lord's Supper last and recapture the sense of mission it contains.
On this first day of the week as we meet with him at his table, may we also hear him saying to us, "Go -- you are sent out" -- to be my people in this world.
(Used at Twin Oaks Christian Church, August 12, 2007).
Monday, July 23, 2007
CUP OF SORROW -- CUP OF BLESSING
Charles Rennie Mackintosh table, Holy Trinity Church, Bridge of Allan, Scotland.The cup in scripture often symbolizes judgment, wrath, and suffering. When Jesus prayed in Gethsemane, "If it be possible, let this cup pass from me," he was visualizing the suffering and death that would come as he took upon himself the guilt and consequences of our sin. He knew Isaiah's prophecy that spoke of the suffering servant as "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Isa 53:3). For him at this moment, the cup was a cup of sorrow.
On the other hand, the cup Jesus drank from is spoken of by Paul in different terms as he wrote in 1 Corinthians 10:16, "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a sharing of the blood of Christ?" The cup of sorrow has become the cup of blessing.
Henri J. Nouwen, a Catholic Priest assigned to a community home for mentally and physically handicapped people in Canada, spoke of what he called a lively memory connected with the cup of sorrow becoming the cup of blessing. One of the handicapped members, Trevor, had to spend a few months in a mental hospital near Toronto for psychological evaluation. Nouwen decided to go see Trevor and called the chaplain to ask if he could visit his friend. The chaplain welcomed him and asked if he would mind meeting with some ministers and priests in the area and some members of the hospital staff for lunch. Nouwen agreed without thinking much about the implications of the request.
When he arrived for the luncheon a large group was waiting for him -- but no Trevor. "I came here to visit Trevor," he said. "Can you tell me where I can find him?" The chaplain explained that he could see him after lunch. Nouwen was stunned and asked, "But didn't you invite him for lunch?" "No," the chaplain explained, "staff and patients cannot have lunch together. Moreover, we have reserved the Golden Room for this occasion, and no patient has ever been allowed in that room. It is for staff only." "Well," said Nouwen, "I will only have lunch with you all when Trevor can be there too. We are very close and I came here to see him, and I am sure he would love to join us for lunch."
They found Trevor and brought him in, but the atmosphere was quite subdued and solemn. Before the meal Nouwen helped Trevor get a coke from the drinks table where others were also helping themselves. As the meal was about to begin, Trevor suddenly stood up and with a loud voice and a big smile, lifted his glass of Coke and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, a toast!" Everyone dropped their conversation and turned to Trevor with puzzled and anxious faces, wondering, 'what is this patient going to do? Better be careful.'
But Trevor knew what he was doing. He looked at everyone and said, "Lift your glasses." Everyone obeyed. And then, as if it were the most obvious thing to do, he started to sing: "When you're happy and you know it, lift your glass. When you're happy and you know it, lift your glass ... " As he sang, people's faces relaxed and started to smile. Soon a few joined Trevor in his song, and not long after everyone was standing, singing loudly under Trevor's direction.
Trevor's toast, Nouwen said, radically changed the mood in the Golden Room. He had brought these strangers together and made them feel at home. With his unique blessing, Trevor had set the tone for a joyful and fruitful meeting. The cup of sorrow had become the cup of blessing. (Henri J.M. Nouwen, Can You Drink The Cup?, 63f).
The communion cup represents both the sorrow and suffering that Jesus experienced and the blessing that we experience through his sacrifice. As we take it maybe we should take a page from Trevor's example and say, "When you're blessed and you know it, lift your cup." "This cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ?"
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
The Pursuit of Happiness Hebrews 12:2
Thinking about the Lord's Supper and the Fourth of July brings to my mind two puzzling statements, one in the Declaration of Independence and one in Hebrews 12:2. The puzzling phrase in the Declaration of Independence is found in the philosophical heart of that document: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."
The phrase that puzzled me is: "the pursuit of happiness." It could easily be understood as self-centered, focused on personal pleasure, even hedonistic. Surely that isn't what Jefferson meant. I came to understand it when I learned the educational and philosophical context in which it was written.
The Declaration of Independence was written and signed by men who had been highly influenced by the Scottish enlightenment. In fact, fully 1/3 of the signers were of Scottish or Ulster Scott extraction. They were familiar with and had been influenced by the teachings of Francis Hutcheson of Glasgow who was known as the founding father of the Scottish enlightenment.
He believed that every one's ultimate goal in life is happiness, but for him this meant not the gratification of physical desires but making others happy. "That action is best," he said, "which procures the greatest happiness," and the highest form of happiness is making others happy.
A recent scientific experiment at the University of Oregon, reported in Eugene's Register Guard newspaper, supports this idea. A number of people were given money and the opportunity to give it away or to keep it. Their brains were monitored and it was discovered that voluntarily giving to help others produced a response in the part of the brain that registers pleasure.
Haven't you found it to be true that when you do something that makes someone else happy it produces happiness in you also? Like seeing your child open a gift, or seeing a young person blossom as a result of your teaching. Doesn't it make you happy to see slides by a missionary of someone being baptized in Kenya, or children singing enthusiastically in a Ukrainian church camp, knowing that your gifts help make this possible? On the other hand, the more self centered, the more we try to make ourselves happy by hoarding or spending on ourselves, the more miserable we are.
Jimmy Durante's gravelly voice in Sleepless in Seattle said it in song: "Make someone happy, make just one someone happy, and you will be happy too."
This helps us understand the puzzling statement about Jesus in Hebrews 12:2 which says, "... for the joy set before him he endured the cross ..." It seems strange to put joy and enduring the cross together in the same sentence, but its true that when Jesus went to the cross he was in "the pursuit of happiness" -- yours and mine! The happiness of forgiven sin, of cleansing and renewal. The happiness of reconciliation and hope. All of this he secured for us on the cross. Thus, it was "for the joy set before him that he endured the cross." We experience again that joy every time we join him at the communion table.
The phrase that puzzled me is: "the pursuit of happiness." It could easily be understood as self-centered, focused on personal pleasure, even hedonistic. Surely that isn't what Jefferson meant. I came to understand it when I learned the educational and philosophical context in which it was written.
The Declaration of Independence was written and signed by men who had been highly influenced by the Scottish enlightenment. In fact, fully 1/3 of the signers were of Scottish or Ulster Scott extraction. They were familiar with and had been influenced by the teachings of Francis Hutcheson of Glasgow who was known as the founding father of the Scottish enlightenment.
He believed that every one's ultimate goal in life is happiness, but for him this meant not the gratification of physical desires but making others happy. "That action is best," he said, "which procures the greatest happiness," and the highest form of happiness is making others happy.
A recent scientific experiment at the University of Oregon, reported in Eugene's Register Guard newspaper, supports this idea. A number of people were given money and the opportunity to give it away or to keep it. Their brains were monitored and it was discovered that voluntarily giving to help others produced a response in the part of the brain that registers pleasure.
Haven't you found it to be true that when you do something that makes someone else happy it produces happiness in you also? Like seeing your child open a gift, or seeing a young person blossom as a result of your teaching. Doesn't it make you happy to see slides by a missionary of someone being baptized in Kenya, or children singing enthusiastically in a Ukrainian church camp, knowing that your gifts help make this possible? On the other hand, the more self centered, the more we try to make ourselves happy by hoarding or spending on ourselves, the more miserable we are.
Jimmy Durante's gravelly voice in Sleepless in Seattle said it in song: "Make someone happy, make just one someone happy, and you will be happy too."
This helps us understand the puzzling statement about Jesus in Hebrews 12:2 which says, "... for the joy set before him he endured the cross ..." It seems strange to put joy and enduring the cross together in the same sentence, but its true that when Jesus went to the cross he was in "the pursuit of happiness" -- yours and mine! The happiness of forgiven sin, of cleansing and renewal. The happiness of reconciliation and hope. All of this he secured for us on the cross. Thus, it was "for the joy set before him that he endured the cross." We experience again that joy every time we join him at the communion table.
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