Discipling Life

My early years were in Ferguson Valley in central Pennsylvania and attending the Spring Run Church of the Brethren. We had worship first, followed by Sunday School. During the worship service we would all fill up a couple of pews. Grandma and Grandpap, my parents and siblings, Uncle Gary and his family and Aunt Rhoda and her family. Yes, about eight cousins all together. After worship, most of us would go to Sunday School, but my Grandma would go home to finish cooking the Sunday Dinner. (Dinner is the midday meal and supper is the evening meal.) After Sunday School the rest of us would make our way to my grandparents’ home and we would all cram together around the table for dinner. Grandma would often have roast beef and/or fried chicken and/or ham, etc. Uncle Gary always made sure he got one of the breasts. Personally, I went for a thigh. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes were a weekly highlight for me. Now, we had even larger gatherings at her house for Thanksgiving and Christma...

We remember the night Jesus gathered his closest friends in an upper room. Around a shared table, amidst the weight of what was coming, he took bread. Matthew tells us: “While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, ‘Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.’” (Matthew 26:26-28, NRSVue). The room was full of Passover memories—stories of deliverance, promises of God’s faithfulness, reminders that God never gives up on his people. Yet Jesus takes this holy meal and gently reshapes it around himself. He offers bread and cup as signs of a new covenant, a new Exodus, a new way of life shaped by self-giving love. In this simple act of breaking bread and sharing the cup, Jesus poured out the deepest meaning of his life and impending sa...