In churches all over the world, with astonishing regularity, Christians do the same small thing: they take a piece of bread and a cup, give thanks, and eat and drink. It looks almost too simple to matter — a morsel and a sip. And yet this is the meal Jesus Himself instituted, the one ceremony (along with baptism) that He explicitly commanded His followers to keep until He comes. Twenty centuries later, we are still keeping it. So what is it, and why does it carry such weight?
Let me walk you through where it came from, what it means, and how to receive it well — because a great many sincere Christians take communion for years without ever being taught what they are doing or why it should move them as deeply as it does.
Where communion came from
It began at a Passover table, on the night Jesus was betrayed. The oldest written account we have is Paul’s, who received it directly from the Lord and handed it on:
For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, That the Lord Jesus the same night in which he was betrayed took bread: And when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of me. After the same manner also he took the cup, when he had supped, saying, This cup is the new testament in my blood: this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew the Lord’s death till he come. 1 Corinthians 11:23–26
Read it slowly, because nearly everything communion means is packed into those few sentences. Jesus took the ordinary elements of a Passover meal and gave them a new and personal meaning, pointing them at Himself. The timing is unbearably tender: the same night in which he was betrayed — hours before the cross, knowing exactly what was coming, He gave His friends a way to remember Him. And the central command repeats: this do in remembrance of me.
What the bread and the cup mean
Two elements, two meanings. The bread is His body, given for us: This is my body which is given for you (Luke 22:19). The cup is His blood, poured out to seal a new covenant and secure forgiveness. Christians have debated for centuries exactly how Christ is present in the elements — whether the bread becomes His literal body, or He is present in a spiritual way, or the meal chiefly calls us to remember — and good believers land in different places. I will not settle those debates here. But I want to steer you away from the thin idea that communion is “just a symbol,” a bare reminder and nothing more. Paul calls it a real participation:
The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ? 1 Corinthians 10:16
The communion of the blood of Christ. The word means fellowship, sharing, participation. Something genuinely happens at the Table: by faith we feed on Christ and His finished work, and our communion with Him and with one another is strengthened. The bread does not save us — the cross does — but the meal is a God-given means of laying hold of the cross afresh.
Four directions communion points
I find it helpful to see communion as a meal that points in four directions at once. It looks back — to the cross, where the body was broken and the blood was shed; every time we eat and drink, we “shew the Lord’s death,” preaching the gospel to ourselves in bread and cup. It looks up — to the living Christ, not a dead memory; we commune with a Savior who rose and reigns and is present with His people. It looks around — to the family at the Table; it is called communion partly because we share it together, one loaf for one body, which is why Paul rebuked a church for taking it selfishly. And it looks forward — till he come; every Lord’s Supper is a deposit on a greater feast, the marriage supper of the Lamb, when faith becomes sight. Hold all four together and the little meal opens up into the whole story of redemption.
Who should take it, and how
Two practical questions remain. First, who should take communion? The Table is for followers of Jesus — those who have repented and trusted Christ, who belong to Him. It is not a reward for the spiritually impressive (no one qualifies on that basis), but neither is it for those who have never come to Christ at all; for them the invitation is first to the Savior, then to His Table. If you are not yet sure you belong to Him, the most important thing is not to take the bread but to take Christ — begin with How to Be Saved. Second, how should we take it? Paul gives a sobering instruction, because the Corinthians had been treating the Table carelessly:
But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread, and drink of that cup. 1 Corinthians 11:28
Hear what this does and does not mean. It does not mean you must be sinless to come — if that were the bar, the Table would be empty forever. It means you should come thoughtfully: examining your heart, confessing known sin, making peace where you can, and discerning that this is no ordinary snack but the Lord’s body and blood. The danger Paul warns against is not imperfection but flippancy — treating something holy as if it were nothing. So when the plate comes to you, slow down. Search your heart. Remember the cross. Receive by faith. The point of self-examination is never to drive sincere believers away from the Table in fear, but to draw them to it in reverence and gratitude.
Why it matters
So why does this simple meal matter so much? Because we are forgetful people, and Jesus knew it. We forget the cross. We forget that we are forgiven. We forget that we belong to a family and that He is coming back. So our Lord, on His last night, did not leave us a philosophy to memorize but a meal to taste — something we can hold in our hands, chew, and swallow, so that the gospel reaches us through our very bodies and not only our minds. Communion preaches grace to us when words have grown familiar. It says, as often as you come, this is My body, given for you; this is My blood, shed for you — for you, personally, by name.
So do not let it become routine. The next time the bread and cup come around, receive them as what they are: the personal pledge of a Savior who loved you enough to die, gave you a way to remember, and promised to come again. Take, eat. Take, drink. And go from the Table to the gathered life it belongs to — the church, worship, and the ordinary faithfulness that flows from a grateful heart.