hidden from sight

I stand beside her on a Sunday morning, touch her shoulder and whisper, “Good morning, Kelly,” wanting her to know by my voice who is near. To her blind eyes I am only another shade of darkness.

“For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus in the night in which He was betrayed took bread; and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, “This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me.”*

As the bread is passed from person to person, this emblem of His body broken, bruised for us, I hold the plate and reach out to take Kelly’s hand. I guide it to the bread, to a section easy for her to break off in this holy act of sharing supper at His table.

Her fingers close around the bread that her eyes cannot see.

I remember how His hand lovingly stretched out to me in my darkness, guiding me to Himself – to His body broken, wounded for me.

“Thou didst reach forth Thy hand and mine enfold;

I walked and sank not on the storm-vexed sea –

‘twas not so much that I on Thee took hold,

as Thou, dear Lord, on me.”**

In the same way He took the cup also after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood; do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.” For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes.”*

The wine is passed, and I take a cup, placing it carefully in Kelly’s waiting hand; a token of His precious flow of blood.

I wonder at Kelly’s trust to drink from a cup poured out with contents hidden from her sight; her faith to take a place at this table with others who are masked in shadow.

Then I recognize in Kelly’s blindness my own inability to really fathom the contents of the mystery of the cup I cradle in my own hands. My mind reels with how little I comprehend of the staggering cost of His life blood, spilled to give me a place at this table in communion with a Savior who is hidden from my sight.

Though you have not seen him, you love Him. Though you do not now see Him, you believe in Him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory. 1 Peter 1:8

As Kelly needs me to guide her hands, so desperately I need You, my Lord and Savior.

What a privilege to be here at Your table; weak, helpless, but knowing that in Your sacrifice, in Your goodness and grace, You are all I need.

* from 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

**from the hymn, I Sought the Lord by George Chadwick, 1893