The man standing in the front asked us to search our hearts and to talk to God about our sin before we came forward to participate in the meal. Many around me leaned forward, bowing their heads in a prayerful pose. I didn't. I can look inward so much and see nothing or be overwhelmed by all. Instead, I asked Him to show me what He wanted.
My gaze was drawn to the elements, my Savior's body broken and torn, His blood out, my heart dropped. Did it have to be so horrible? Why didn't Father find another way? The suffering of that day was too terrible.
I am not worthy.
I am not worthy of this Love, and I could never be worthy, no matter how much sin I confess, how much time I chose to live as a Christian, how accepted I am in my church, how many people I reach or teach. I study and struggle and search, but it is only when I release myself into Father's care that I am healed, changed, and transformed. Until then, I am just bandaged and splinted. The sin still seeps out from wounds like pus. My heart still twists in fear, and I am schizophrenic-fragmented between who I am and who I desire to become.
Sometimes I feel like You ask so much, but when I look at all You give me, my heart is quiet. I am not worthy. I don't know how to respond.
When Someone gives you everything, but you have nothing to give back, what is the right response? Thank You is not enough.
In a previous tradition I learned, and still pray today before I take the bread and cup, "Lord, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word, and I shall be healed."
I am not worthy, but You are, of all the love and obedience that my clumsy heart can muster. Only You can heal me, only You can teach me to love, only You are worthy.