Loved Like a Bride

A Communion Table Talk:

On June 28, a very important day came and went…  At least, it was important to my wife and me. On that day, we celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary.

I don’t mention that to put the spotlight on us—or to make anyone wonder how she has managed to put up with me for nearly three decades! I mention it because our anniversary got me thinking about something that is easy to talk about but sometimes difficult to truly understand:  love.

More specifically, I’ve been thinking about the way the Bible describes the relationship between Christ and His people. Scripture uses a remarkable picture. The church is described as the bride of Christ.

Have you ever watched a groom see his bride for the first time on their wedding day? For just a moment, everything else seems to disappear. He isn’t thinking about whether the flowers are perfect or whether the decorations are just right. He isn’t worried about whether the music started on time. He’s looking at one person.

And if you watch closely, you can almost see it on his face—joy, gratitude, affection, love.

I think there is something beautiful about God choosing the picture of a bride to describe our relationship with Christ. Christ doesn’t simply tolerate His people. He doesn’t merely put up with us because He has to. He loves His people.

That becomes especially meaningful because we don’t always see ourselves that way.

We know ourselves. We know the things nobody else knows. We remember our failures, the promises we made and broke, the opportunities we missed, and the times we could have done better. We know the thoughts we wish we hadn’t thought and the words we wish we hadn’t spoken.

Sometimes it is easier to believe that God merely puts up with us than to believe that He actually loves us.

Maybe you’ve felt that way. Maybe you’ve come to the Lord’s Table thinking, “I don’t feel very worthy today.” And the truth is, we aren’t worthy. None of us has earned the right to stand before God. But that isn’t the end of the story.

Paul writes, “Christ also loved the church and gave Himself for her” (Ephesians 5:25).

Notice what Scripture says:  He didn’t wait until His bride was perfect. He didn’t wait until she had everything figured out. He didn’t love her because she had somehow earned His love. He loved her because He chose to love her.

And somehow, by the grace of God—we are that bride.

That changes the way I look at the Lord’s Table.

We’re not coming to the table to convince Jesus that we’re perfect. We’re not coming to prove that we are worthy. We come because the One who knows us completely still invites us to His table.

Think about that for a moment.

He knows everything about us—and He still says, “Come.”

The bread reminds us that Jesus willingly gave His body for us. The cup reminds us that He gave His blood to establish the new covenant. When we take these emblems, we are certainly remembering that Jesus died. But we are also remembering why He died.

He died because He loved us. He gave Himself so that we could be forgiven, reconciled to God, and belong to Him.

And there is another part of this picture that I find especially beautiful. A bride doesn’t spend her married life simply looking backward at her wedding day. She looks forward to a life with the one she loves.

The church should live that way, too. 

We look backward to the cross, but we also look forward to what God has promised. Scripture gives us the beautiful picture of the marriage supper of the Lamb. Revelation 19 describes a great celebration in which those who belong to Christ rejoice in the coming of the Bridegroom.

One day, the waiting will be over. One day, faith will become sight. One day, the Savior we have loved without seeing will be seen face to face.

Think about that. 

The hands that were pierced for us. The face we have trusted without seeing. The Savior we have followed by faith. We will see Him for ourselves. (John 14:3; 1 John 3:2; Revelation 1:7)

Until that day, we gather around this simple table. We take the bread. We take the cup. We remember the cross, but we also remind ourselves of something we can so easily forget:  we are loved by the One who knows us best.

We are not forgotten. We are not abandoned. We are not merely tolerated. We belong to Christ.

So perhaps when we come to the Lord’s Table, we should do more than remember a historical event. We should allow ourselves to receive the truth that the cross declares. The One who knows everything about us loved us enough to give Himself for us.

And then, having remembered His sacrifice and received His love, we renew our commitment to Him. Our response is not merely, “Jesus loves me.” It is also, “Lord, I belong to You. My heart is Yours.”

And finally, we look forward. We look forward to the day when the waiting is over, when we see our Savior face to face, and when the people of God share in the joy of the marriage supper of the Lamb.

Until then, we come to this table—not because we are perfect and not because we have earned our place, but because Christ has loved us and given Himself for us.

Perhaps that is one of the most beautiful truths we can carry with us from the Lord’s Table:  We are loved. We belong to Christ. We are His bride.

The Sabbath, Sunday, and the Rest We Find in Christ

Few biblical subjects create as much confusion as the Sabbath. Should Christians observe it today? If not, why do so many Christians worship on Sunday? And is Sunday somehow the Christian version of the Old Testament Sabbath?

The best place to begin is not with tradition, history, or what we have always heard. It is with Scripture.

Genesis tells us that God rested on the seventh day after completing His work of creation. But while Genesis records God's rest and the sanctifying of the seventh day, it does not record a command for Adam, Noah, Abraham, or the other patriarchs to observe a weekly Sabbath. The Sabbath becomes a covenant command when God establishes Israel as His covenant people.

The Sabbath was a meaningful part of that covenant. It reminded Israel that God was their Creator and their Redeemer. Deuteronomy connects the Sabbath specifically with their deliverance from Egyptian slavery, while Exodus calls it a sign between God and Israel.

So the Sabbath was not simply a day off. It was a covenant reminder:  We belong to God. He created us, He redeemed us, and He has called us to Himself.

That raises an obvious question:  If Jesus kept the Sabbath, shouldn't Christians keep it too?

Jesus certainly did observe the Sabbath. He was "born under the law" (Galatians 4:4), and He perfectly fulfilled the Law. But Jesus also declared that He was "Lord of the Sabbath" (Mark 2:28). He was not merely showing people how to observe the Sabbath; He was revealing that something greater was coming.

That something greater was Himself.

The Old Covenant was never God's final destination. Through Jeremiah, God promised a "new covenant" (Jeremiah 31:31). Jesus announced that this covenant was established through His blood (Luke 22:20). At the cross, the sacrificial system, priesthood, and other elements of the Old Covenant reached their fulfillment in Christ.

Paul gives us an especially helpful way to understand this when he writes that certain Old Covenant observances, including "sabbaths," were "a shadow of things to come, but the substance is of Christ" (Colossians 2:16–17).

A shadow is not something bad. A shadow tells us that something real is approaching. But when the person arrives, we don't continue staring at the shadow. We look at the person.

The Sabbath was a shadow — Christ is the substance.

This also helps us understand Sunday.

Christians do not gather on Sunday because God moved the Sabbath from the seventh day to the first. The New Testament never gives such a command. Sunday is significant for a different reason:  Jesus rose from the dead on the first day of the week.

The early church gathered on the first day (Acts 20:7), Paul gave instructions concerning their collection on the first day (1 Corinthians 16:2), and John referred to "the Lord's Day" (Revelation 1:10). The first day became associated with the risen Christ and the gathering of His people.

So Sunday is not the Sabbath moved to another day — It is the day on which we remember that the tomb was empty.

And perhaps that leads us to the most important point of all.

The Sabbath ultimately pointed beyond a day of physical rest toward the deeper rest that God offers His people. Jesus said:  "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."  — Matthew 11:28

Notice that Jesus did not say, "Come to a day." — He said, "Come to Me."

Our deepest rest is not found on a particular day of the week. It is found in trusting Christ and resting in what He has already accomplished for us.

That does not make the Sabbath unimportant. Quite the opposite. It helps us understand why it was important. It was part of God's unfolding plan, pointing His people toward something greater.

And now that Christ has come, we don't need to keep looking for the shadow — we look to Him.

The Sabbath pointed toward God's completed work of creation. The resurrection points toward God's completed work of redemption.

The Sabbath offered rest from physical labor. Christ offers rest for weary souls.

And that is a rest worth finding — not just once a week, but every day.

Christ Jesus or Jesus Christ? Does the Order Matter?

 As you read through the New Testament, you may notice something interesting. Sometimes a writer refers to "Jesus Christ," while at other times he writes "Christ Jesus." Is there a difference, or are the two expressions simply interchangeable?

The answer is both yes and no.

The first thing to understand is that "Christ" is not Jesus' last name. It is a title. The Greek word “Christos” means "Anointed One," or "Messiah." Jesus is His personal name, while Christ describes His God-given role as the promised Savior and King foretold throughout the Old Testament.

When a writer in the New Testament says "Jesus Christ," his emphasis is often on identifying Jesus of Nazareth as the promised Messiah. It is something like saying, "Jesus is the Christ." This concept was the central message of the apostles' preaching.

One of the apostles, Peter, expressed this truth when he declared, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God" (Matthew 16:16). And again, the Apostle John told his writers that he wrote his Gospel "that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God" (John 20:31).

Now, on the other hand, the expression "Christ Jesus" often places the title first, then draws attention to Jesus' exalted position as the Messiah before mentioning His personal name. This word order appears especially often in the writings of the Apostle Paul.

The Boys Jesus Never Grew Up With

In Matthew's account of Herod's massacre we see one of the darkest moments in the story of Jesus’ birth. We often pass over it quickly, eager to move on from the manger to the ministry of Jesus. But, I think Matthew records the event for a reason.

"When Herod saw that he was deceived by the wise men, he was exceedingly angry; and he sent forth and put to death all the male children who were in Bethlehem and in all its districts, from two years old and under..." 

(Matthew 2:16)

Think about it for a moment. What that event meant.

If Jesus later returned to Bethlehem as a child, He may have found something hauntingly different from what most children experience. The boys who would likely have been His playmates—the children who might have raced with Him through the streets, climbed the hillsides, or learned trades alongside Him—were gone. Herod's soldiers had taken them.

When Desire Meets Discipleship

I think one of the more confusing ideas in our culture today is the belief that if someone is “born” with a certain desire or inclination, then that desire should automatically be accepted and embraced without question.

The reasoning usually goes something like this:  “If this is natural for me… then it must be right for me.”

And if anyone suggests restraint, self-control, or moral boundaries, that person is often viewed as hateful or uncaring.

But when you really stop and think about it, that idea falls apart pretty quickly.

The truth is, every one of us is born with tendencies we are not supposed to simply give ourselves over to. We all have weaknesses. We all have desires that pull us in wrong directions. That is part of being human in a fallen world.

One person may naturally struggle with anger. Another with pride. Another with selfishness. Someone else may battle greed, jealousy, lust, dishonesty, or addiction.

The Bible never teaches that every natural desire is good simply because it feels natural.

Not All Bubbles Rise the Same: Strength That Helps Others Grow

The next time you are near an aquarium, don’t watch the fish, pay attention to the bubbles. I’m convinced you will notice something simple and surprisingly meaningful, but something you’ve never taken the time to think about. All the bubbles rise—but not all in the same way. 

Some bubbles are large and move quickly, almost effortlessly. Others are small and drift around on their way upward at a little slower rate. Some rise in a straight line, while others slide along the glass. And every now and then, a bubble gets caught on a plant or decoration, pausing for a time before finally continuing upward.

When you think about it, that’s a lot like the Christian life.

All believers are moving toward Christ, but not at the same pace or in the same way. Some Christians appear strong, steady, and confident. Others struggle. Some hesitate. A few get “stuck” along the way. And that raises an important question:  What should strong Christians do with the weaknesses of others?

The Bible’s answer is both clear and challenging:  help them rise.

When Our Past Gains Weight

I recently learned that German culture has an interesting word that sounds funny to Americans—Kummerspeck. It comes from Germany, and it literally means “grief bacon.” 

The word describes the weight someone might gain during a season of sorrow. Often, when grief settles into our hearts, it shows up in our habits, energy levels, and even on our bathroom scales.

That word reminds us of an important truth:  what we carry inside eventually shows up somewhere.

The same thing can happen to us spiritually.

What Does a Bread Machine Teach Us About Worship?

I enjoy using my bread machine. There’s something quietly satisfying about pouring in the ingredients, closing the lid, and letting it do its work. A little flour, some water, sugar, a packet of yeast—and before long, the whole loaf begins to change. That small amount of yeast works its way through everything. You don’t see it happening, but there is no way you can miss the results.

That experience has helped me think more carefully about a conversation I had with a friend who said it didn’t really matter whether the bread used in Communion was leavened or not. On one level, I understand the sentiment. God cares about the heart, not the recipe. But Scripture also shows us that God teaches through symbols—and when it comes to leaven, the Bible is remarkably consistent. And—if you’ve ever watched yeast do its work in making bread, that consistency starts to make a lot of sense.