I am not indifferent in a bad way, rather, I feel as though I am drinking up the entire week— its failures and its victories and everything in between— and in my processing, my mind is quiet— almost to a point of indifference.

I have taken communion every single day this week.  It first started as a desperate attempt to garner God’s attention and the hope that tends to follow it, but it continued as a belief that good would follow.

The first night, I took it knowing that it was time to pick up some things and walk away from some others.  I took it because I knew that the blood of Jesus was the only thing that could walk me through what I needed to walk through.

The second night, I took it because my car broke down and so did I.  I took it because trouble after trouble rolled my way all day long, and I felt downtrodden by the end of the night.  I took it because I needed a reset and a rescue, and nothing else would do it.

I had spent the entire day trying to rescue myself, and all day I had failed.

When I came to my end, I took communion to be with the God who would make sure that I didn’t end.

The third night was a sweet communion.  On the third day, I experienced hope and help.  I was surrounded by friends and loved ones and uplifted by those around me.  I trusted in God and He sent His children to raise me up.

On the third day, I experienced resurrection and redemption.  On the third day, I took communion and experienced resurrection because He first experienced it on His third day.

On the fourth day, I took communion because I was tired.  Tired of working, tired of striving, tired of never being done with anything.  I took communion because I knew that being one with Him would lead me into rest and into completion.  I took communion on the fourth day in exhaustion so that I could take communion on the fifth day in celebration.

So when the fifth day came, I took communion in celebration because He delivered peace and conclusions to all the things that stole my peace.

When the sixth day rolled around, I took communion early in the morning.  I took it as I was setting up for my Belonging Breakfast and I took it in honor of all the hearts that would be represented there that day.  I took it as a prayer and as a declaration over their lives— that they would be drawn into communion with the Lord like I was being drawn into it.

Now, today, I sit here on my couch, warm morning light filtering in through my living room windows as I sit with a wine glass in hand.  As I look back on the week and recall the ups and downs of it all, I feel at peace.

It was busy, it was hectic, and it was stressful at times, but it was beautiful, magical, and healing at all times.

Even when bad was present, good was present too.

When my car broke down, I felt distracted and distraught.  I didn’t have the money or the time or the capacity to fix it.  But when my car broke down, I saw the incredible support system that I had around me.  My grandmother gave me her car to use and offered any help she had.  My friend sent her husband over to work on my car and he worked tirelessly into the night to make sure that it would run.  My friends checked in.  My roommate listened to my cries and my best friend encouraged me in my loss.

Albeit being surround by so much bad, the good far outnumbered it.

When Tuesday came and I was burdened by responsibilities and unfinished projects and deadlines unmet, Wednesday’s new hope rode in on the back of a generous man from church.  Showing up on my doorstop early in the morning, he brought a team of men with him to fix up my house and finish projects that I didn’t have time to finish and repair the things left in disrepair.

When the stress of this world showed up and started knocking at my door again on Friday, so did God’s children to come and help me once again.  People rose up to help me with flooring, to help me with painting, to help me with setting up my event— all because I took communion with God.

I can get so hyper-focused on deeds and acts and works that I think they are where my blessings will be found.  I’ve grown so accustomed to hearing the church propaganda that tells me that I have to move or act or do something to earn God’s gifts.  I get so stuck in the rut of “what-do-I-have-to-do-to-be-loved” that I forget that the answer to that question is always nothing.

As I sit back, wrapped in my warm down blanket and drink of this cup of love, I look back at the week and know that with certainty.

There is nothing that I have to do to earn His goodness.

Lifting the wine to my lips, I partake in it all.

I raise the cup and take in the suffering of the cross and the burden of death, but I also take in the promise of resurrection and the joy of a life eternal.

Jesus blessed me this week.  He blesses me every week, but this week I paid closer attention to it.  More than He wanted my works, more than He wanted my obedience, He wanted time with me.  More than He wanted me to do something for Him, He wanted me to be with Him.

In a week’s worth of communion, I have found that everything truly does rest at the foot of the cross.

God owns it all: the peace and the joy and the friendship and the help, but we will only find it at the foot of the cross.

It took me coming to my end.  It took me realizing that I couldn’t save myself or do anything in my own power for me to come to Him, but when I did, I found what I needed.  When I did, I met more than just provision— I met promise.

I was blessed this week because I spent time with Him.  I was blessed because I sat down with cranberry juice and some crackers to rest with Him.  I was blessed because I decided that He was enough.

Communion won’t fix all of your problems.  It won’t cure all of your troubles or take away all of your pains.  The act of communion won’t take away all your issues, but it will equip you with what you need to walk through them.  In the act of coming to the Lord… in the act of saying yes to being with Him, His blood will deliver.

When we take of the cup, we take of the victory that is held in it’s contents.  When we take of the body and the blood, we take also of what they have to offer.  The richness of heaven is found in the new wine of communion.

The blood will heal.  The blood will wash over your sins and mistakes and cleanse you.  The blood will restore.

I took communion every day and every day I saw the Lord move.  I still had problems arise— it wasn’t that the wine kept them from coming.  But this week, as I took communion, when problems arose, God gave me solutions.  He made a way.  He provided and He blessed.

He would have blessed me anyway.  He would have given to me anyway.  But by taking the cup, by agreeing to partner with Him in communion, I took doubly of both my portion and His.  By sharing my life and my hurts and my joys with Him, I said yes to sharing my life with Him and He said yes to sharing His blessings with me.

Taking communion helped me to intimately see that the bad in my life is always enveloped by good, because God is good and He wants good things for me.  Taking communion helped me to carve out an hour of my day to dedicate to being with the One that I love so sweetly.  Communion helped me to find a safe place where I could retreat to at the end of every day.

So I took communion.  Every day for a week, I took it.  I took it, and now I can’t imagine not taking it.  I took it and I saw my life changed, but more than that, I took it and saw my perspective changed.

Communion didn’t save my life— but the blood in the cup did.  Take communion with Him today.  It’s not too late.