Candles flicker, lit and low. Music gently draw us out of the world and reminds us of another. We meet together in the sanctuary and share communion.
I watch as His daughters take the small cups. In the candlelight I think of stories I’ve heard, poured out from some of these hearts behind closed counseling doors. I think of my own ragged journey. And I feel at once this ache, this longing for all of us to somehow be whole.
Then I think of each cup and how they are the same but we are so different. How can one thing be what we all need?
Then I realize that as we drink those drops are transformed.
Yes, that one with the frightened look in her eyes drinks and the cup becomes peace
The other who has a shattered heart swallows hope.
A woman who lives with unrealistic expectations tastes grace.
For the One whose cup we take has said His name is “I am….” He is the answer to every question, the fulfillment of every need, the end to all the roads we travel in this life.
So these cups are not the same at all—they are, each one, just what His daughter thirsts for in that moment.
Then I say, “Let us drink a gallon—not a cup! I will drain every bit dry.”
But this also, my heart knows…that only a little is enough. Like the few loaves and fishes feeding a multitude He multiplies in ways we do not understand. Those sips are sufficient for the empty spaces in our hearts. They flow down, in and around, touching even the places we ourselves have not yet seen.
The candles flicker again and I lift tiny lip of the glass to my mouth.
Every drop tastes like mystery and joy and Home.
I am filled to overflowing.
