With three other men I was invited by the owner of a famous hotel to have dinner with him—the kind of hotel where the suites would cost you more than $15,000—per night! The owner wore one of those watches you see advertised but learn online that you could never afford! He was a very gracious host. His splendid European chef appeared in the private dining room to explain the menu he had chosen for us—including “zee special white truffle” on the soup, and a steak that almost melted in the mouth. The company was enjoyable, and the food was exquisite. The whole experience was memorable, not least the way, when we arrived, it seemed that a pathway through the hotel had been created by the staff—we were surely very important people to the owner!
But the truth is, all the evening gave me was a story to tell you. For all the kindness of our host, he inhabited a different social world than I. The watch he was wearing was probably worth more than the house I live in. I could never afford to spend a night in his hotel. It was very thoughtful of him to invite me , and I said so as his driver opened the door of his magnificent limousine to take him home! It was like a holiday abroad—for a night!
But I tell you the story to make a point. An “experience” though it was, I would readily swap it for the opportunity to sit down at a table and have something to eat and drink with the Lord Jesus. And the wonderful truth is that I can and do, every time we share the Lord’s Supper. That is why many churches refer to it as the Communion service. It isn’t because we “take Communion.” It is because we experience communion with Christ. The most expensive meal we ever have on earth cannot hope to compare to that.
The Lord’s Supper isn’t so much something we do but the way Christ enables us to enjoy his presence. In it he says to us, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Rev. 3:20). When that happens, we discover— as the two disciples on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus also did (Luke 24:28—31)—that when he comes and is present at the table, he becomes the host and gives us his little love gifts of bread and wine—visible, tangible, tasteable expressions of his dying love for us. And we recognize his presence with us.
What meal could possibly mean more to us? Through it we come increasingly to know, trust, love, and enjoy their giver. This, after all, is why our Lord Jesus gave them to us.
– Sinclair B. Ferguson