Written by Rev. Dr. Lauren Sierra
Today marks the end of our Lenten Devotional Guide. Thank you for journeying with us during this Lenten season and reflecting on the words and prayers of many voices from our TCU community!
It is Maundy Thursday, a Christian observance of Jesus’s last meal with his disciples before his crucifixion. As such, I have written today’s reflection and blessing to center around this meal and the hunger of the human heart. May you find hope and comfort as you reflect on today’s devotional.
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night 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.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.
Reflection & Blessing:
The past several Easter Sundays, I’ve gotten up between 4:30 and 5:00AM to attend my church’s “Sunrise Service.” At this hellacious hour, I try my best to get ready. At the very least, I brush my teeth and my hair, and I put on clothes that are not my pajamas. Most importantly, I make coffee. Eventually, I drag myself to my car and start driving to the church. It’s still dark outside. No one is on the road. It’s too early for music, so I just listen to the sound of the car on the highway and the occasional clicking of the blinker.
When I park in the church lot, I see other tired souls getting out of their cars, but it’s too early to have a conversation; the coffee hasn’t yet kicked in, so we greet each other with a head nod and an exhausted smile, and we walk together. Our phone-flashlights serve as the lamp unto our feet until we arrive at a little garden just near the church building. It’s dark. It’s quiet. Children are still in their jam-jams; some are wrapped up in Disney sleeping bags. Maybe half of us got to the part about brushing our teeth and hair. But huddled together, in the darkness, we wait.
We wait for the tiniest hint of the sun, and as the sun slowly begins to rise, our pastor clicks on a flashlight and reads the Gospel of John’s resurrection narrative. The sun and the Son rising together. Light of the world and Light of the World coming up again. It’s quite beautiful and well-worth the wake up, and after John’s gospel reading, my pastor always begins the sermon by saying something like this: “You aren’t here this morning because you’re the most holy, the most sanctified. You’re not here this morning because you’re the most righteous, or the best church folk, or the most obedient to God, or because you love Jesus more than someone who’s sleeping right now. My guess is that you’re here because you’re hungry. Your stomachs are grumbling for hope, for healing in this crucified world, for a reminder that ultimately death, disease, and devastation don’t get the final word. You’re here this morning, because you’re hungry.”
If you’re reading today’s devotional and you’ve made it this far, my guess is the same is true of you. It’s not 4:30am, but there are a million other things you could be doing right now –it’s April! – but you’re reading, scrolling, and reflecting because you’re hungry. Hungry for hope, light, life, love, liberation, healing, and/or wholeness in a fragmented world.
It is no wonder Jesus offers a meal to his disciples just before the cross and asks them to do this in remembrance of him. Perhaps this meal is what will sustain them when they’ve lost their appetite to grief, when they’re famished for hope as they sit in the sadness of Saturday. It is in eating and drinking we remember his hopeful, loving, liberating, healing, and full life. It is in eating and drinking we remember his invitation that we are welcome at his table. It is in eating and drinking our hearts are nourished and our hunger pangs ease, even if it is ever so slightly. And it is in eating and drinking, we see one another’s faces, with bread and cup in hand, hungry and hoping together.
This Maundy Thursday, may we remember Jesus and his offering of bread and wine. As we eat and drink together in remembrance of him, may it nourish our hearts with hope in the places we most need. Until he comes again. Amen.