Why Communion Makes Me Cry

Tears streamed down my face. Most people do not expect to encounter a woman crying during Communion. It must have been disconcerting.

Those who know me at all know that I cry easily. Not that I am a “cry-baby” – at least not usually – but I feel life deeply and wear my heart on my sleeve. I have been known to cry at McDonald’s commercials and most Hallmark movies.

It may not be all that unusual for someone to cry as they kneel at the altar rail after receiving Communion. After all, receiving the elements of Communion is a special time. A one-on-one with Christ. For some reason, I rarely ever cry when receiving the elements.

I cry when I serve the elements. Every. Single. Time.

It doesn’t matter if I’m serving the bread or the wine, I cry. For the life of me I don’t know why they keep asking me to serve. That simply has to be a scary sight.

In our church, the Lord’s Table is an open table. There are no requirements to be able to partake of the Communion elements. No club. No eligibility. Simply a heart that is drawn to the table by Jesus. When Communion is served, the Communion servers stand in pairs at the front. Anyone desiring to receive the elements comes forward to receive the elements single file.

Imagine coming forward, receiving the bread and then getting to me. Red eyes, tear streaked make-up face. What on earth is her problem is what you are probably thinking as well as wondering if it is safe to dip your bread.

Why do I cry when I serve? I am not really sure.

Communion is intensely personal. We celebrate it corporately as a congregation, but for me, Communion is not a ritual or a liturgy. It’s between me and Jesus. As I take the bread and dip it into the wine I cannot but help be overwhelmed by the sacrifice Jesus made for me. I want him to become alive in me. I want Jesus to exude from me. I pray that I disappear and Jesus is what others see when they see me.

As I stand there at the front of the church and people come forward, I know many of them by name. Not every one, but many. I am compelled to help make this sacred moment personal for them. I look them in the eye – willing them to pause long enough that there is no one else there but us. I call them by name.

“Sue, this is the body of Christ, given for you.”

“Bob, this is the blood of Christ poured out for you.”

The magnitude of Christ’s love bears down on my heart – in a good way. I experience the love of Christ so deeply in that moment that I desperately desire for all who partake to know that same weight, and that same love.

The tears come when eye contact is made and a precious sister or brother-in-Christ’s name is spoken. My throat constricts and sometimes I can only whisper. I believe it takes some by surprise. I hope they hear Christ call their name.

The honor of serving Communion and sharing the love of Christ floods my heart with a joy that crashes over me. Sometimes I want to stop and take the hand of the person in front of me and say – Jesus loves you so much. This much. This is the body of Jesus given for you. This is the blood of Jesus poured out for you. Do you understand this? Is it personal for you? Oh how I hope so.

Please excuse the tears.

Why do I cry? I don’t know. If I did, I could probably keep it from happening. I don’t want to. I want to be overwhelmed by Jesus.

If you come to my church and we are serving Communion and I’m standing at the front, there is a strong likelihood that I’ll be crying by the time you get to me. If I know your name, you’ll hear it.

No matter where you receive the elements of the Last Supper, I pray you hear an echo of Jesus saying to His disciples: I love you this much. Do this in remembrance of me.

Love and Blessings, Denise