Sometimes we sin by over-engineering love. Parents over-analyze the thoughts and intents of their children. Children over-analyze the motives and tone of voice of their parents. We judge one another, loading syllables with meaning, inferring, assuming, trying to peer into the depths of peoples’ hearts. But you know what? You’re not God. You’re not God. So stop it.
You know, this table, this meal has probably been one of the places where Christians have most sinned in this regard. And elders and pastors and theologians have led many astray by their own over-analysis of what’s going on here, drawing calculations, doing physics, complicating everything, when Jesus just told us to do this. He actually didn’t command us to think about it, to study it, to bow down to it, to pray to it, to fight over it. He told us to do it as a memorial of His love. In other words, it just means God loves you. That’s what it means.
It means you’re sinner. It means you’re weak. It means you fail. It means painful things happen. It means you need grace. You need forgiveness. You need a Father who loves you. And this meal is God’s simple, insistent proclamation that He loves you. But not only that, He has loved you with an everlasting love, a love that started before the foundations of the world, a love that is fierce and deep, but you know what? Ultimately, God’s love is not complicated at all. He’s not worried about the details. He’s not worried about your distractions. He knows it all and smiles and shrugs and maybe he even chuckles a little, and then opens His arms. God is the Father of the prodigal, always looking down the road, always ready to run for His children. Don’t complicate this. Don’t do the math. Don’t try to figure it. You can’t. All this means is that God loves you. So come, eat, drink, and look around: You’re surrounded by His love.