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God doesn't waste our messes. When we step out in faith, even when we stumble, even when things don't go according to plan, God takes those imperfect efforts and uses them. Sometimes God uses them in ways we can see right away. Sometimes we don't see the impact until years later. But God always uses them.

God isn't looking for people who have it all together. God is looking for people who are willing to step out in faith despite their weaknesses. God is looking for people who will offer their inadequate gifts and trust him to make them enough. That's messy obedience. And that's exactly what God loves to use.

Perfectionism isn't about excellence. It's about fear. We're afraid of looking foolish. We're afraid of making mistakes. We're afraid of being judged. We're afraid of failing. So we tell ourselves we're not ready yet, and we wait...and wait...and wait. But while we're waiting for perfect, real opportunities to serve God and love others are passing us by. Real chances to make a difference are slipping through our fingers.

Jesus doesn't focus on what the disciples don't have. He doesn't dwell on the impossibility of the situation. He doesn't lecture them about poor planning. Instead, Jesus asks a simple question: "What do you have?"

You know that feeling when you're standing at the edge of something new, and your brain starts listing all the reasons why you're not qualified to do it? And the list grows: "I don't have the right skills...I've never done this before...What if I mess it up...What if people judge me...I'm just not ready yet." Yeah, Moses knew that feeling too.

If you want to know what Jesus' table manners look like, look at what he did right before the Last Supper. He got down on his hands and knees and washed his disciples' feet. The one who deserved to be served chose to serve. The one who had every right to expect others to take care of him chose to take care of them instead.

Every communion service is both a memorial and a proclamation. We're remembering what Jesus has already done, but we're also declaring what that means for how we live today. We're announcing to the world that the way of the cross, the way of sacrificial love, is the way we choose to live.

When Jesus said "do this in remembrance of me," he wasn't just asking his followers to think about him occasionally. He was giving them a way to encounter him, to experience his presence, to be transformed by his love over and over again.

Sacred meals require sacred behavior. When we come to the communion table, we're not just having lunch with friends. We're participating in a meal that connects us to Jesus' last supper with his disciples, to his sacrifice on the cross, and to his promise to return. That requires a different kind of behavior from us.

communion is never supposed to become ordinary. Every time we gather around that table, we're participating in something that should transform us. We're remembering not just any meal, but the meal where Jesus told his followers that his body would be broken and his blood would be shed for them.

3 Don’t do anything for selfish purposes, but with humility think of others as better than yourselves. 4 Instead of each person watching...

Imagine if you could put on special glasses that let you see people the way Jesus sees them. What would change about your perspective? Instead of seeing that person who drives you crazy at work, you'd see someone God loves deeply. Instead of seeing that family member who always pushes your buttons, you'd see someone Jesus died for. Instead of seeing that person whose politics make you angry, you'd see a child of God.

There is no unity without empathy. We can't bridge divides with people we refuse to understand. We can't love people whose experiences we dismiss or ignore. We can't be one body if we don't care about the pain other parts of the body are feeling.

When we drink from the same cup and eat from the same bread, we're declaring that we belong to each other. We're saying that what happens to one of us matters to all of us.

When we let our preferences, opinions, and even deeply held convictions become more important than our unity in Christ, we miss the point of what it means to be the church. We become just another divided group arguing about who's right instead of a community transformed by God's love.

Karl Barth was one of the most influential theologians of the 20th century. He wrote volumes on complex doctrines and spent his life studying the deepest mysteries of faith. But when someone asked him the most profound truth he'd learned, his answer was beautifully simple: "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so."

We like to think we're more inclusive than the religious people of Jesus' day, but we still struggle with this. We still have unspoken guest lists for God's table. We still think some people are more worthy of God's love than others. We still find ourselves surprised when God welcomes people we wouldn't have invited.

How many times have we been too busy for God? Too occupied with work to pray regularly. Too exhausted from our schedules to read scripture. Too overwhelmed with family responsibilities to serve others. Too stressed about our own problems to notice people in need.

Jesus loves to turn our expectations upside down. In the world's economy, you work your way up the ladder. You prove yourself worthy of promotion. You earn your seat at the big table through talent, effort, and strategic networking.

We still walk into rooms wondering where we fit. We still scan the conference table at work, wondering if we're important enough to speak up. We still feel uncertain at family gatherings, church events, or neighborhood barbecues, trying to figure out our place.