When you think of communion, a lot of things may come to mind. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, however, probably aren't one of them.
They are now for me, and I'll tell you why.
Last Friday, my boy was enjoying said sandwich for a snack while I pulled weeds out in the yard. In a few hours, we would be heading to our church's Good Friday service, and so I was busy trying to win the battle of the yards.
Jack ran up to me, peanut butter and jelly smeared all over his chubby cheeks.
"Hey buddy, what's up?" I think I said.
He tore off some of the crust of his sandwich and handed it to me. Then, with eyes that looked just like this:
He said, "This is my body, which has been broken for you."
I let out a little chuckle. "Have you been learning about Communion in Jungle Juniors?" I asked, then marveled over his memory. It was Friday, he hadn't been to church since Sunday, and he hadn't mentioned this once.
Jack shoved the bread toward me. "Eat it, Mommy! This is is Jesus' body!" he insisted.
So I took it and ate it.
Jack was happy. "Oh good, Mommy, now you can be in heaven forever with Jesus!"
It was one of those moments. I stood, covered in dirt and pollen, humbled by the words of my 3-year-old. I thanked God for Jack's toddler wisdom, for reminding me of the meaning of Good Friday unprompted. I mini-worshipped, right then and there.
Then the moment was gone when Jack said, "I'm gonna go find a worm to feed to the birds."
When we went to service that night, we did indeed take communion. And my heart was so full.
This is my body which has been broken for YOU. Do this in remembrance of me.
I do, Jesus. Thank you for the gift of Easter...and Jack.