Let us break bread together on our knees;
Let us break bread together on our knees.
When I fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun,
O, Lord, have mercy on me.
It is Easter Eve, the darkening hours of Holy Saturday. In preparation for our early morning celebration of the Resurrection, I'm baking. The Bible is quite clear: we all serve in our different capacities and use what gifts we have for glory. I pull my gold Rubbermaid bowl from under the cupboard, my stainless steel measuring cups and spoons from the cabinets overhead and grease the worn 9x13 pans. In Your service, Lord; I bake.
It is merely coffeecake for breakfast for the early service congregation, not the Lord's Supper itself, but I trust He will understand my good intents if what I hear when I crack eggs on the edge of the bowl are the words of Luke 22:19:
And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it,
and gave it to them, saying,
"This is my body given for you;
do this in remembrance of me."
There will be a full table; at this church, there always is. We have 'all sinned and fallen short of the glory of God", but we are not guilty of setting a mean or meager meal. You will be welcome; you will be full.
Give, and it will be given to you.
A good measure, pressed down, shaken together
and running over, will be poured into your lap.
I make my sign of the Cross from the trimmings of the dough and lay it carefully atop the cake. The kids watch and Aaron tells me he thinks the cake looks flat. I smile. 'That's because it still needs to raise,' I say. ''We have to wait to bake it after it has risen.''
Josh is ready to 'eat cake?' as soon as it is pulled from the stove. 'Not now, Josh, but we will eat it at church tomorrow for Easter.' "At church?" 'Yep." That satisfies the two year old who seems surprisingly willing to wait til Easter to celebrate with cake.
Let us break bread together tomorrow.
...and fall down on our knees before the rising Son.
Lord, Have mercy!