And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28 (NLT) This is one of those verses that's been cross-stitched onto pillows and printed on bookmarks so many times that we can forget how radical it really is. Paul doesn't say that God causes only good things to happen. He doesn't say that everything that happens is good. He says that God causes everything – including our mistakes, our failures, our messy attempts – to work together for good. That word "together" is important. New Testament scholar N.T. Wright points out that Paul is describing a process, not a single moment. God takes all the pieces of our lives – the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the broken – and weaves them together into something meaningful. It's like a master chef taking whatever ingredients are available, even the ones that seem mismatched or inadequate, and creating something delicious. Or like a skilled musician who can turn a wrong note into part of a beautiful improvisation. That's what God does with our imperfect obedience. God takes our messy attempts and weaves them into something beautiful. As I reflect on the nine years our church has been working with the Angel Tree, I can see this promise at work. That first year was chaotic. We made mistakes. We overcomplicated things. We had a check declined at the toy store, for crying out loud. But you know what? Those mistakes taught us what not to do. That chaos forced us to figure out better systems. That first messy year became the foundation for nine years of serving our community. If we had waited until we had it all figured out, we would've missed helping 782 kids have a better Christmas. If we had let the fear of making mistakes keep us from starting, we would've never discovered the joy of being the hands and feet of Jesus in our community. And here's what I've learned: 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. So we need to understand that there's a huge difference between being perfect and being faithful. Perfect means getting everything right. Faithful means showing up and trusting God with the outcome. Perfect is impossible. Faithful is doable. Perfect requires certainty. Faithful requires trust. Perfect is about us. Faithful is about God. And God doesn't call us to be perfect. God calls us to be faithful. God calls us to show up, offer what we have, take the next step, and trust that he'll work through our imperfect efforts. That's why Paul can confidently say that God works everything together for good. Not because everything we do is perfect, but because God is faithful to use whatever we offer him. Not because we never make mistakes, but because God can redeem even our failures. Not because we always get it right, but because God's purposes are bigger than our imperfections. So as we end this week of reflections, I want to leave you with this encouragement: Start somewhere. Don't wait for perfect. Don't let fear of failure keep you from stepping out in faith. Don't let your weaknesses convince you that God can't use you. Offer what you have, even when it feels inadequate. Take that first step, even when you're not sure where it will lead. Say yes to God's invitation, even when you don't feel qualified. Prayer God, thank you for this week's reminder that you don't need us to be perfect before you can use us. Thank you for showing us through Scripture that you've always used imperfect people doing imperfect things. Thank you for the promise that you work everything together for good, even our mistakes and messes. Help us to release our grip on perfectionism and embrace your invitation to start somewhere. Give us the courage to take that first step, even when we're not sure where it will lead. Remind us that our first attempt doesn't have to be our best attempt—it just has to be an attempt. This week, show us where you're calling us to serve. Reveal to us what you're inviting us to offer. And then give us the faith to say yes, imperfections and all. We trust that you'll take our small offerings and multiply them beyond what we can imagine. We trust that your grace is sufficient. We trust that your power works best in our weakness. So here we are, Lord. Ready to start somewhere. Amen.

Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That's why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (NLT) When Paul wrote this letter to the church in Corinth, he was dealing with what he called a "thorn in the flesh." Biblical scholars have debated for centuries what this thorn actually was. Some think it was a physical ailment, maybe chronic eye problems or some other illness. Others think it was opposition from enemies or internal struggles. We don't know exactly what it was. But we do know this: Paul begged God three times to take it away. Three times Paul prayed, "God, remove this weakness. Take away this limitation. I could serve you so much better without it." And three times, God said no. But God didn't just say no. God said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." Wait...what? God's power works best in weakness? That doesn't make sense to us. We think God's power would work best when we're at our strongest, our most capable, our most put-together. We think we need to bring God our best before he can use us. But that's not how God works. God's power shines brightest through our weaknesses, not despite them. God's power shines brightest through our weaknesses, not despite them. Paul goes on to say something that sounds almost crazy: He takes pleasure in his weaknesses. He's glad to boast about them. Why? Because when he's weak, that's when Christ's power shows up most clearly. Think about it this way: When everything goes smoothly, when we have all the resources we need, when we feel competent and capable, who gets the credit? We do. People look at what we accomplished and think, "Wow, they're really good at that." And sometimes, if we're honest, we start thinking that too. But when we step out in faith despite our inadequacies...when we serve even though we're not sure what we're doing...when we offer what we have even though it feels like it's not enough...and God uses it anyway? There's no question about where the power came from. There's no confusion about who made it work. Everyone can see that it was God. F.F. Bruce, the renowned biblical scholar, once wrote that Paul's thorn taught him that "divine power reaches its full effectiveness in human weakness." In other words, our limitations don't limit God. Our weaknesses don't weaken God's work through us. If anything, they create space for God's power to be more clearly seen. So what does this mean for us practically? It means that messy obedience is often better than perfect inaction. It means that stumbling forward in faith is better than standing still. It means that offering our inadequate gifts to God is better than waiting until we feel adequate. Maybe you've been holding back from serving because you're afraid you'll mess it up. Maybe you've been hesitant to share your faith because you don't know how to answer every question. Maybe you've been avoiding a calling because you're acutely aware of your limitations. But here's what I want you to hear: Your weaknesses are not disqualifications. They're opportunities for God's power to be revealed. Your inadequacies are not obstacles to God's work. They're invitations for God to show up in unmistakable ways. This doesn't mean we shouldn't prepare or try to grow in our abilities. It doesn't mean we should be careless or lazy in our service. But it does mean that we don't have to wait until we feel strong enough, capable enough, or qualified enough to respond to God's call. We can step out in faith right now, weaknesses and all, and trust that God's grace is sufficient. We can offer our messy obedience and watch God do what only God can do. Because 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. Prayer Jesus, this is hard for me to accept. I want to be strong, capable, and competent before I serve you. But you're telling me that your power actually works best in my weakness. Help me to embrace my limitations instead of hiding them. Give me the courage to step out in messy obedience rather than waiting for perfect confidence. Teach me that my weaknesses are not disqualifications but opportunities for your power to be revealed. Help me to trust that your grace really is sufficient for me. Amen.

Farmers who wait for perfect weather never plant. If they watch every cloud, they never harvest. Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind or the mystery of a tiny baby growing in its mother's womb, so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things. Plant your seed in the morning and keep busy all afternoon, for you don't know if profit will come from one activity or another—or maybe both. Ecclesiastes 11:4-6 (NLT) The writer of Ecclesiastes presents us with a vivid picture. Imagine a farmer standing at the edge of their field, seeds in hand, staring at the sky. They're looking for the perfect weather conditions. Not too much wind. Not too many clouds that might bring rain too soon. Everything has to be just right. But here's the problem: If they wait for perfect conditions, they'll never plant. And if they never plant, they'll never harvest. The farmer who waits for perfection ends up with an empty field and an empty barn. The ancient wisdom here is pretty straightforward: Perfect conditions rarely exist. There's always going to be some wind. There's always going to be some uncertainty about the weather. There's always going to be some risk involved. But if you let the pursuit of perfect conditions keep you from planting, you'll never reap a harvest. And the same is true in our spiritual lives. If we wait for perfect circumstances, perfect feelings, or perfect confidence before we step out in faith, we'll spend our whole lives standing at the edge of the field with seeds in our hands. Perfectionism is sneaky. It masquerades as wisdom, caution, or high standards. It tells us we're just being responsible by waiting until we're really ready. It convinces us that we're honoring God by wanting to do things excellently. But 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.  Because the reality is that God doesn't wait for us to be perfect before using us. If God waited for perfection, none of us would ever be used. Abraham would've never left his homeland. Moses would've never confronted Pharaoh. David would've never been king. Peter would've never preached at Pentecost. Paul would've never planted churches. God uses imperfect people doing imperfect things. That's actually kind of his specialty. Look again at what Ecclesiastes says: "Plant your seed in the morning and keep busy all afternoon, for you don't know if profit will come from one activity or another—or maybe both." In other words, plant the seed. Take action. Start somewhere. You don't know which efforts will bear fruit, but you can be certain that seeds you never plant will never grow. And notice something else in this passage. It acknowledges uncertainty. "You cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things." We don't always know how things are going to turn out. We can't control all the variables. We can't eliminate all the risks. But that's okay. That's actually part of faith. Faith isn't about having all the answers or knowing exactly how things will work out. Faith is about taking the next step even when we can't see the whole staircase. Faith is about planting seeds even when we don't know exactly what the harvest will look like. So what have you been putting off because you're waiting for perfect? What step of faith have you been avoiding because you don't feel ready? What has perfectionism been keeping you from starting? Whatever it is, I want you to know that you don't have to wait until you have it all figured out. You don't have to wait until you feel confident you won't make mistakes. You can start now, imperfect and uncertain, and trust that God will meet you in the middle of it. So plant the seed. Take the step. Start somewhere. And trust that God can work through your imperfect efforts in ways you never imagined possible. Prayer God, I've been letting perfectionism hold me back. I've been waiting for ideal conditions, perfect confidence, and the guarantee that I won't fail. But that's not faith—that's fear. Help me to release my need for perfect and embrace your invitation to start somewhere. Give me the courage to plant seeds even when I can't see the harvest. Remind me that you use imperfect people doing imperfect things for your perfect purposes. Help me to start today. Amen.

But Jesus said, "You feed them." "With what?" they asked. "We'd have to work for months to earn enough money to buy food for all these people!" "How much bread do you have?" he asked. "Go and find out." They came back and reported, "We have five loaves of bread and two fish." Then Jesus told the disciples to have the people sit down in groups on the green grass. Mark 6:37-41 (NLT) Have you ever been in a situation where what you had was nowhere near enough for what was needed? Maybe you're trying to pay bills with money that just doesn't stretch far enough. Maybe you're trying to help a friend through a crisis, but you don't have the right words or resources. Maybe you're trying to serve others, but you feel like what you have to offer is so small it couldn't possibly make a difference. That's where Jesus' disciples found themselves. They had thousands of hungry people and only five loaves of bread and two fish. The math just didn't work. In first-century Palestine, it wasn't uncommon for large crowds to gather around popular teachers. But typically, people would bring their own food or return home for meals. The problem in this passage is that Jesus and his disciples had gone to what Mark calls a "deserted place" to rest, but the crowd followed them there. Now it's getting late, everyone's hungry, and they're miles from the nearest village. The disciples' solution seems reasonable: send everyone away so they can buy food. But Jesus doesn’t agree. Instead, he tells the disciples, "You give them something to eat."  Can you imagine their reaction? New Testament scholar R.T. France notes that the amount of money the disciples mention, eight months' wages, would’ve been an astronomical sum for this working-class group. In other words, the disciples are saying, "Even if we had the money, which we don't, we couldn't afford to feed this many people." But Jesus doesn't ask them about their bank account. He asks them about bread. 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?" Not "What do you need?" Not "What do you wish you had?" Not "What would make this easier?" Just "What do you have?" And when the disciples bring him five loaves and two fish, an amount that's laughably inadequate for the task at hand, Jesus doesn't send them away to get more. He doesn't tell them it's not enough. He simply takes what they have, gives thanks for it, and uses it to feed thousands of people. That's how God works. God takes what we have and uses it.  But here's the thing we often miss: The disciples had to actually bring Jesus what they had. They had to take those five loaves and two fish and put them in Jesus' hands, even though it felt inadequate. Even though it seemed pointless. Even though the math didn't work. And that's what God asks of us too. God asks us to bring what we have and trust him with the rest. Maybe you've been holding back from serving because you feel like what you have to offer isn't enough. Maybe you've been hesitating to give because you think your contribution is too small to make a difference. Maybe you've been afraid to start because you can't see how your limited resources could possibly meet the overwhelming need. But that's not your job. Your job isn't to multiply the loaves and fish. Your job is to bring them to Jesus. Your job is to offer what you have, even when it feels inadequate, and trust that God will do the rest. Because here's the truth: What you have might not feel like much. But in God's hands, it's more than enough. Prayer Jesus, I look at what I have to offer and it feels so small. Like five loaves and two fish in the face of overwhelming need. But you didn't ask the disciples to have enough—you just asked them to bring what they had. So today, I'm bringing you what I have. My limited time. My small resources. My imperfect gifts. I'm placing them in your hands and trusting you to multiply them in ways I can't imagine. Help me to stop focusing on what I lack and start offering what I have. Amen.

We all have things we want to do but avoid starting because we're afraid we'll mess it up. The fear of imperfection keeps us from taking the first step toward serving others.   But what if God doesn't need our perfection before we begin? Sometimes the most beautiful outcomes come from the messiest beginnings.

But Moses pleaded with the LORD, "O Lord, I'm not very good with words. I never have been, and I'm not now, even though you have spoken to me. I get tongue-tied, and my words get tangled." Then the LORD asked Moses, "Who makes a person's mouth? Who decides whether people speak or do not speak, hear or do not hear, see or do not see? Is it not I, the LORD? Now go! I will be with you as you speak, and I will instruct you in what to say." Exodus 4:10-12 (New Living Translation) 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. When God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, Moses wasn't exactly jumping at the opportunity. In fact, Moses gave God a whole list of excuses about why he was the wrong person for the job. The excuse we see in today's passage is that Moses wasn't a good speaker. Some biblical scholars think Moses might have had a speech impediment. Others think he was just uncomfortable with public speaking. Either way, Moses was convinced his inadequacy disqualified him from God's calling. But that’s not how God felt. God doesn't dispute Moses' self-assessment. God doesn't say, "Actually, Moses, you're a great speaker and you just don't realize it yet." Instead, God basically says, "I know exactly who you are and what you can and can't do. I'm the one who made you, remember? Now go. I'll be with you." We do this same thing Moses did, don't we? We wait for the perfect moment. We wait until we feel qualified. We wait until we have it all figured out. We wait until we're confident we won't mess it up. But if we wait until we feel ready, we'll never start. If we wait until we're confident we won't make mistakes, we'll never take that first step. If we wait until we have it all figured out, we'll spend our whole lives standing at the starting line. God didn't call Moses because Moses was a natural-born leader with great communication skills. God called Moses and then promised to be with him every step of the way. God didn't wait for Moses to get over his insecurities or overcome his limitations. God invited Moses to start right where he was, with all his inadequacies, and trust that God would provide what was needed along the way. And the same is true for us. Whatever God is calling you to do, you don't have to wait until you feel ready. You don't have to wait until you have it all figured out. You just have to be willing to take that first step and trust that God will meet you there. Maybe God is calling you to volunteer in some area of ministry. Maybe God is nudging you to have a difficult conversation with a friend or family member. Maybe God is inviting you to be more generous with your time or talents. Maybe God is asking you to simply start showing up more consistently in your faith journey. Whatever it is, you don't have to have it all together. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to be willing to start. So what's holding you back? What are you waiting for? What step of faith have you been avoiding because you don't feel ready or qualified? Because here's what I want you to know: Your first attempt doesn't have to be your best attempt. God isn't looking for perfection. God is looking for willingness. And when you offer what you have, even when it feels inadequate, God takes it and uses it in ways you never imagined possible. Prayer God, I'll be honest...I often feel like Moses. I look at what you're calling me to do, and I immediately start listing all the reasons why I'm not qualified. I focus on my inadequacies instead of your sufficiency. Help me to remember that you don't call the equipped, you equip the called. Give me the courage to start somewhere, even when I don't feel ready. Help me trust that you'll be with me every step of the way. Amen.

12 After he washed the disciples’ feet, he put on his robes and returned to his place at the table. He said to them, “Do you know what I’ve done for you? 13 You call me ‘Teacher’ and ‘Lord,’ and you speak correctly, because I am. 14 If I, your Lord and teacher, have washed your feet, you too must wash each other’s feet. 15 I have given you an example: Just as I have done, you also must do. John 13:12-15 (Common English Bible) 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. That's the pattern Jesus established for everyone who follows him. His table manners aren't about using the right fork or keeping your elbows off the table. His table manners are about putting others first, serving instead of being served, and loving people even when they don't deserve it. This is revolutionary. In a world that teaches us to look out for ourselves first, Jesus shows us a completely different way. Instead of fighting for the best seat at the table, we look for ways to serve those around us. Instead of making sure our own needs are met first, we pay attention to who might be going without. These aren't just nice suggestions for how to be a better person. This is what it means to follow Jesus. This is what our encounters with him at the communion table should produce in us, hearts that are willing to get down on our knees and serve others the way he served us. But when we practice Jesus' table manners, we don't become less than who we're supposed to be. We become more. We discover the joy that comes from serving others. We experience the peace that comes from putting others' needs ahead of our own. We find the fulfillment that comes from loving sacrificially. The question each of us has to answer is simple: Do we want to keep using our own table manners, or are we ready to learn Jesus' table manners? Do we want to keep living like we always have, or are we ready to live like Jesus? Personal Application:  What would change in your daily life if you adopted Jesus' table manners – putting others first, serving instead of being served, loving sacrificially? Where is God calling you to wash someone's feet this week? Prayer:  Jesus, thank you for showing us what real table manners look like – not etiquette rules, but a heart that serves others. Help us learn your way of living, your way of loving, your way of putting others first. Transform our hearts so that we find joy in serving rather than being served. Make us more like you at every table where we sit. Amen.

26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. 1 Corinthians 11:26 (Common English Bible) 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 Paul says we "proclaim the death of the Lord" through communion, he's not just talking about what happens inside the church building. He's talking about a declaration that should be visible in how we live our everyday lives. Our participation in communion should be evident in how we treat our families, our coworkers, our neighbors, and even our enemies. To proclaim the death of the Lord means to live as people who have been transformed by sacrificial love. It means being willing to put others' needs before our own. It means choosing forgiveness over revenge. It means serving instead of demanding to be served. It means loving people who are difficult to love. This is the "holy table manners" that communion teaches us. Not just proper etiquette during a church service, but a way of living that reflects what we've experienced at Christ's table. If we truly encounter Jesus' love at communion, that love should overflow into every other area of our lives. The world should be able to see that we've been to Jesus' table by how we behave at every other table. Our family dinners should be marked by grace and forgiveness. Our business lunches should be characterized by integrity and care for others. Even our casual meals with friends should reflect the love we've experienced at Christ's table. This doesn't mean we become perfect people. But it does mean we allow our regular encounters with Jesus at communion to gradually transform us into people who love like he loved, serve like he served, and sacrifice like he sacrificed. Personal Application:  How would people know you've been to Jesus' table by watching how you behave at other tables? What changes might you need to make in your daily interactions to better "proclaim the death of the Lord" through your actions? Prayer:  Jesus, help us not just participate in communion, but live out communion in our daily lives. Let our encounters with you at your table transform how we treat people at every other table. Help us proclaim your death not just with our words, but with our actions, our attitudes, and our love. Amen.

23 I received a tradition from the Lord, which I also handed on to you: on the night on which he was betrayed, the Lord Jesus took bread. 24 After giving thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this to remember me.” 25 He did the same thing with the cup, after they had eaten, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Every time you drink it, do this to remember me.” 1 Corinthians 11:23-25 (Common English Bible) The word "remember" that Jesus used wasn't just about thinking back to something that happened in the past. In Greek, the word is anamnesis means something much deeper than cognitive recall. It means to make present again, to re-experience, to participate in something that transcends time. 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. That's what makes communion different from looking at old photographs or visiting historical sites. When we eat the bread and drink the cup, we're not just remembering something Jesus did two thousand years ago. We're participating in something that's still happening. Jesus continues to give his life for us, continues to love us, continues to transform us. This kind of remembering is active, not passive. It's not just thinking "Oh right, Jesus died on the cross." It's allowing that reality to shape who we are and how we live. It's letting Jesus' sacrifice become the defining reality of our existence. When we truly remember Jesus in this way, it changes us. We can't encounter the depth of his love and remain selfish. We can't experience the reality of his forgiveness and continue to hold grudges. We can't participate in his sacrificial love and remain focused only on ourselves. This is why communion is so much more than a religious ritual. It's a regular opportunity to be remade by the love of Christ. Every time we come to the table, we have the chance to be transformed again by encountering the one who gave everything for us. Personal Application:  When you take communion, are you just remembering facts about Jesus, or are you encountering his living presence? How might you open yourself more fully to being transformed by these encounters with Christ? Prayer:  Jesus, thank you for giving us communion not just as a way to think about you, but as a way to encounter you. Help us come to your table ready to be changed, not just to remember. Make yourself present to us in fresh ways every time we eat the bread and drink the cup. Transform us through these sacred encounters. Amen.

20 So when you get together in one place, it isn’t to eat the Lord’s meal. 21 Each of you goes ahead and eats a private meal. One person goes hungry while another is drunk. 22 Don’t you have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you look down on God’s churches and humiliate those who have nothing? What can I say to you? Will I praise you? No, I don’t praise you in this. 1 Corinthians 11:20-22 (Common English Bible) There's an unspoken understanding about how we behave in different settings. You act differently at a funeral than at a birthday party. You use different manners at a fine restaurant than at a backyard barbecue. You speak differently in a job interview than you do hanging out with friends. Context matters. The Corinthians had forgotten this basic principle when it came to communion. They were treating the Lord's Supper like any other meal, complete with social divisions, overeating, and even drunkenness. So Paul essentially tells them, "If you want to party, do it at home. This is supposed to be something different." 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. What does sacred behavior look like at the communion table? It means coming with humility, recognizing that we're all equally in need of God's grace. It means treating everyone around the table as beloved children of God, regardless of their social status, income level, or background. It means examining our hearts and confessing our need for forgiveness. But here's where it gets challenging: sacred behavior at communion should shape our behavior everywhere else too. If we truly encounter Jesus around the communion table, if we're really transformed by remembering his sacrifice, then we can't go back to treating people poorly the rest of the week. The way we behave at this table should transform the way we behave at every other table in our lives. The patience we find with difficult people during communion should extend to difficult people at work. The forgiveness we experience at God's table should make us more forgiving at our own dinner tables. Personal Application:  How does your behavior during communion compare to your behavior the rest of the week? Are there ways that encountering Jesus at his table should change how you treat people at your table? Prayer:  God, help us bring sacred hearts to your sacred table. Don't let us compartmentalize our faith, acting holy during communion but returning to selfishness afterwards. Transform us through every encounter with you, and let that transformation spill over into every area of our lives. Amen.

You learned the rules early - don't chew with your mouth open, say please and thank you, keep your elbows off the table. But are these the most important manners we can have?   What if there's a different kind of etiquette that matters more than any manners your parents taught you, one that could change not just how you eat, but how you live?

17 Now I don’t praise you as I give the following instruction because when you meet together, it does more harm than good. 18 First of all, when you meet together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you, and I partly believe it. 19 It’s necessary that there are groups among you, to make it clear who is genuine. 1 Corinthians 11:17-19 (Common English Bible) We've all had a moment when something sacred becomes so routine that we stop paying attention to what it really means. The wedding ring that becomes just jewelry after years of marriage. The national anthem that becomes background music at sporting events. The prayer before meals that turns into mumbled words we say without thinking. That's what was happening in the church at Corinth. Communion had become just another meal. Instead of a sacred time to remember Jesus' sacrifice, it had turned into a potluck where some people gorged themselves while others went hungry. The wealthy members showed up early with gourmet food and expensive wine, eating and drinking their fill before the working-class members could even arrive. Paul was horrified. This wasn't just bad manners. It was a complete misunderstanding of what communion was supposed to be. They had forgotten that they were gathering around a table that represented the greatest act of love in human history. They had turned something sacred into something selfish. We might not think we're doing anything as obviously wrong as the Corinthians, but we face the same temptation. It's easy to let communion become routine. We know the words, we go through the motions, we eat the bread and drink the cup without really thinking about what we're doing. But 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. When we lose sight of the sacred nature of communion, we miss the point entirely. We turn a transformative encounter with Christ into a religious ritual that doesn't change anything about how we live. Personal Application:  When you take communion, do you find your mind wandering to other things? How might you prepare your heart to encounter the sacred nature of this meal rather than just going through the motions? Prayer:  Jesus, forgive us for the times we've treated communion as ordinary rather than sacred. Help us come to your table with hearts that are ready to be transformed. Don't let us go through the motions without encountering you. Make every communion a fresh reminder of your incredible love and sacrifice for us. Amen.