At the Foot of the Cross

Growing up in the Catholic church, communion was something that became routine and devoid of meaning for me. I made my First Commuion in the third grade, along with dozens of other kids, with no real knowledge of what I was doing. From then on, I took communion whenever we attended church because it is just what Catholics did.

I say the above not to start a debate, but just to frame my experience for what I am about to talk about. I have been a born-again Christian for about 15 years, but still can not get through a communion service without breaking into tears. Our pastor has a way of explaining it that touches the deepest place in my heart. A friend asked me to explain it to her the other day, and I couldn't do it adequately. I still can't. He talks about it being our hope and the entire reason we are here; about how everything else we do in our Christian life pales in comparison to accepting the reprentation of the living Christ.

This past Sunday, I strongly felt the presence of Jesus as our pastor spoke at communion. I told him I was broken; I am about to be divorced and bankrupt. He told me to place myself at the foot of the cross and leave it all there for Him. I cried "my husband is gone" and He told me that, because of Wayne's sin and mental illness, he didn't know how to be a husband to me and to try to forgive him for that. He said that Wayne was His job now! I need only be concerned about starting a new and victorious life for myself and our daughters. Talk about freedom! But Lord, I cried, "what if I get lonely?" Even as I cried, I was filled with peace that He would meet that need too.

In this life, people let us down. That is called being human. How awesome to know there is One who takes us in any condition, even bankrupt, broken and divorced.