Bread and Wine...Juice! I mean juice!

It's been a while, but I feel very led to typity type a bit. I don't know why it's been too long and I wish I was a little more consistent like my friend Marshall but, alas, my laziness has been tough to fight off. This day, oh this day, I have risen in victory over my flesh. So here we go...

It was that feeling. I couldn't explain it. I couldn't put my finger on it's birth place. Why, oh why, was I feeling a sense of unrest when I just spent the better part of a week worshipping in all gladness and joy of my Saviour. The songs still ring fresh in my head. The words, the Word, shared was still there for feasting and I was eating and drinking my fill. Oh, the taste was a delight and I wanted every mouthful to last just so I could savour the sweet taste of my glorious God. Then I couldn't figure it out.

I tried to nap late Sunday. Key word "tried". I tossed and turned with an anxiety I could not explain. I lay on my bed for at least an hour before I stood, put on a coat (I was already dressed in other clothing), grabbed my keys and drove out of the driveway to wherever He led me. I just drove and talked. Drove and questioned. Drove and listened. You see, the previous Sunday we partook of the Lord's Supper or the Eucharist or Communion, whatever you wish to call the eating of bread and drinking of wine (juice in my case) in remembrance of Christ's giving of Himself. I sat there in my seat holding my blood of Christ cup and wafer of Christ bread with a thought going through my head..."can I faithfully eat and drink of His suffering when there is someone I know and care for that I've wronged and not pursued forgiveness between? How could I?" I hesitated with cup and bread in hand. It was that moment that sat so heavily on my heart a week later. Why now? I thought the healing had begun. What was really filling me with this unfounded anxiety? I pondered...work? nope. middle school retreat? nope. leaders? nope...what could it be? I called all my mentors and prayer partners to no avail until I happened upon the least likely, for me at least, person to give a strapping christian boy (haha) advice...my stepmom, Pamela. And she spoke wisely and to my heart when I'd actually called her to get my dad. Our conversation consisted of the following:

As a follower of Christ we're told, and rightly so, that Christ should always be the central, the focal, the pedestal, the one we seek first in all things. I sooooo badly desire this! I despise when I put other desires before Him. Even good, God drenched desires like marriage or ministry. When one of these good desires pops up and I turn my head from Christ and begin to desire that good thing more than my good Saviour, I've let idolatry slip in through the back door. Where I've taken a good thing, like marriage, made it my god thing which makes it a bad thing. There is only one God, Christ Jesus, and He alone is to be worshiped. But those good things sneak in and I'm like the sea gulls from Nemo...mine, mine, mine...and I try to dive in and grab this good tasting thing, all the while Christ, the best tasting of all, sits on the shore tending a fire, roasting the good things that they'd taste even better because He makes all things better when He is central. So my focus is Christ, but these good things dive in and I turn my head from Christ and I don't want that. I want Christ. Give me Christ. I want so badly to submit all these to Christ and I confess I don't always know how, but I desire this. Praise be to God through Jesus Christ my Lord! He'd take a sinner like me and mature me into a follower of Him. I want to partake in Him whether it's bread or waiting or blood or struggles, I want to partake of Him.