Breathe, Sleep, and Give Thanks

Do you ever get tired of breathing?  Have you ever just had it up to here with sleeping?  We do these things all the time, yet most people don't stop and say “Maybe I'd be better off if I breathed less often.”  If we ever think about it, we cherish each breath.  We might try and go without sleeping at times, in order to get more things done, but when we do get the chance to sleep, we usually see it as a precious commodity, a golden opportunity—something to be cherished.

And yet we don't completely understand these things.  Scientists can't tell us, for instance, why we need sleep.  But we do.  Sometimes we feel like we ought to understand the way everything works, why things happen, etc.  And yet, there are more things we don't understand than there are things we do understand.  Unfortunately for our humility (which is really just honesty about both strengths and weaknesses), we tend to avoid dealing with those things we don't understand.  We feel more comfortable staying in the shallow water, repeating the things we've grasped before.

Sometimes we come away from a powerful experience of God and think we understand it.  After such moments, we may reach back in our memories and try and write down the “recipe.”  How did it happen?  How many songs did we sing first?  What did the preacher preach about?  What was the structure that led us to this powerful experience?  We want to re-experience it.  We want to do it all again.  We assume that that will give us what we experienced, as though meeting God was essentially a psychological construction.

One characteristic we may try to mimic is timing.  Maybe what made that service feel so special was the fact that we hadn't seen anything like it for weeks, or maybe months.  It was so beautiful, let's not do it again.  Or at least, let's hold off until we can actually feel the hunger for it.  We think we understand how this God-experience works.  We have the recipe.  We can rebuild it.

Or not.  We don't understand all that happens at this table.  But I believe, out of past experience, but primarily out of obedience, that we need this, just as we need the sweet rest of sleep, and the enlivening of clean air.  We need to be invited.  We need to receive the Body.  Whether or not we realize our spiritual gasping for breath, underneath it all we are thirsty for the blood of Christ.  Just as our lungs hurt when we wait too long for our next breath, or madness descends on us when we haven't slept, I believe that our souls somehow ache when we miss a chance to give thanks, a chance to gather in thanks, at this table.

As they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread and asked God's blessing on it.  Then he broke it in pieces and gave it to the disciples, saying, “Take it and eat it, for this is my body.”  And he took a cup of wine and gave thanks to God for it.  He gave it to them and said, “Each of you drink from it, for this is my blood, which seals the covenant between God and his people.  It is poured out to forgive the sins of many.  Mark my words—I will not drink wine again until the day I drink it new with you in my Father's Kingdom.”

Cherish the body and blood of Christ.