Let There be Light!

When I walked into the house one evening after work, I left the front door open. It was nice and sunny, and light streamed through the storm door. I did my daily chore of feeding stray cats and pigeons before bringing in the mail. Back inside, I closed the front door and then noticed something. The house was dark. More so than usual. For a split second, I wondered if I fell down the rabbit hole.

Turned out the reason why was a big DUH! I have wonderful eyeglasses that turn into sunglasses. Since I’m an occasional klutz and sometimes lazy, or maybe both at the same time, this was a spectacular invention. Without glasses, I couldn’t find my car, let alone drive it. No more trying to remember where I last saw my sunglasses. I put this whole invention right on par with the dishwasher…something you don’t know you can’t live without until you own one.

I turned on the light in our TV room and it was a revelation. Instant vision! Prior to that, it was so dark I couldn’t find the light switch. Like someone would move the switch I’d been turning on for almost 40 years. Eventually I’ll learn where it is. That room is one you don’t dare walk into with the lights off. Cats lie in wait…hoping you trip over them. If accidentally stepped on, they put on a great show. They know I’ll pick them up, say I’m sorry, and give them kitty kisses. Do cats snicker? I don’t know, but sometimes I think they do. I never know if I really stepped on them or they’re pretending to be mortally wounded. I personally think they should apologize for constantly being underfoot, but that won’t happen.

When I finally got around to opening the mail, another light flickered on, and this one had nothing to do with flipping a switch. Well, maybe the switch in my brain flipped, but that’s as close as I got to involving electricity. Miss Vickie sent a little card. Inside was something she wrote after the evening’s Lord’s Supper. Her thoughts got me to thinking and I want to share some of them with you, with her permission, of course.

She carefully picked up her small piece of bread, gently holding it as if her fingers carried her sins to the unleavened bread. She watched some of the other members with theirs, which will only go to show you why Miss Vickie and I are so sympatico. Her mind wanders as much as mine does. One of the members tightly held hers, afraid it would escape. Another played with theirs, twirling it around their fingers like a Frisbee. Miss Vickie’s words, not mine. (I have mentioned she’s as off-center as I am, haven’t I?) When instructed to eat it, going through her mind were thoughts of being totally alive in the spirit.

When the little cups appear, the neighbor is carefully holding hers, so it won’t spill on her choir robe. It’s Miss Vickie’s turn, and she notices how some cups aren’t filled up quite as much as the others. Hmm. She selects one that is almost overflowing and wonders why. Does she feel especially sinful that day? Did the Lord lead her to that one? Is she thirsty? She drinks it, praying for cleansing and forgiveness and asking Him to totally live in her.

What she wrote next, I’m going to quote verbatim because I don’t have enough poetry in my soul to capture her thoughts so eloquently. “A tear travels down my cheek and falls in my cup. I notice the cup is not completely empty. Yes, I did tilt my cup high and I truly thought it should be empty. However, a remaining drop is a word to me from Jesus. It says so quickly, ‘Vickie, tomorrow, when Satan attacks and you fail—there is always more grace to forgive. You can never use it all up. Thank you, Jesus.’” Wow! That’s when the light went on. One of those rare, spiritual moments when a truth hits you right in the gut.

The most perfect time of the year for the Lord’s Supper is Easter. That’s when it all comes together, when we remember why he died for us and partake in a ceremony to renew our commitment to Christ. But sometimes it becomes so perfunctory, doesn’t it? Or am I the only one who sometimes, despite my best intentions, lets their mind wander to the mundane. Like where they found unleavened bread. Why grape juice and not wine? Will the little cups go in the dishwasher or do they wash them by hand? I hear the words, but they don’t always sink in.

It’s a simple little drop of grape juice left in the bottom of a friend’s cup that I’ll never forget. In one single drop, as Miss Vickie so rightly pointed out, is all the truth in the world. Father made me, and He knows how I am. That I unconditionally love him, trust Him implicitly, and believe with all my heart that He died so I might live. Despite knowing all that, I slip much more than I should. That free will thing nails me.

But when I have slipped or when I slip in the future, there will be one little drop of blood left to cover my sins. What a remarkable concept. It doesn’t take the whole bottle of Welch’s, it takes a single drop. Just like it takes only one light to keep me from falling over a cat that’s waiting in the dark to trick me into petting them. Just like it only takes one “Thank you, Jesus” when you’re celebrating a life, a death, and a resurrection. So, thank you, Jesus for your sacrifice, and thank you, Miss Vickie for that little bit of wisdom you shared with me. The next Lord’s Supper in which I partake? I won’t be wondering why it’s not real wine, I’ll be looking for the little leftover drop of juice. And the light will go on in my heart again.