"This do in remembrance of me."

Luke 22; 1 Cor. 11.

1894 15 It is to be remarked that only in Luke's Gospel and in Paul's Epistle to the Corinthians are these touching words of our Lord recorded. They give to us in the clearest and simplest terms His desire as to what should engage the thoughts of our hearts when breaking bread — the precious memory of Him crucified, and crucified for us. Another has pointed out that the word translated "remembrance" has an active signification of "recalling," or "calling to mind," as a memorial. The words then are to be read thus — "This do for the calling Me to mind." There is a striking contrast in this respect between the Lord's supper and the Jewish sacrifices. In them "there was a remembrance again made of sins every year." Their repetition called the sins to mind, i.e., proved that the sacrifices were inefficacious to put them away. On the contrary, when the Christian "breaks bread," he calls Jesus to mind Who has put his sins away by the sacrifice of Himself. Unspeakably precious memorial! which not only speaks peace to the conscience and hope to the soul, but fills the heart with the warmest affections for Him Who has so loved us when ruined and guilty, and so eternally redeemed us to God by His blood.

It is a marked feature of the Gospel of Luke that in it everything that the world values, all that is highly esteemed among men, is shown to be abomination in the sight of God. A blessing is pronounced on the poor, whose solace and comfort are not in the abundance of the things they possess, but in Christ; while a woe is threatened to the rich who have received their consolation apart from R. The folly of laying up treasure for oneself is illustrated in the parable of the rich man whose ground brought forth plentifully; and the appalling termination of a life spent in fleshly mirth and worldly splendour is vividly portrayed in the story of the rich man and Lazarus, a story carried on to their state after death. Indeed all earthly riches are called "the mammon of unrighteousness."

In the Epistles to the Corinthians the same line of truth is pursued, warning against the spirit of worldliness in the church. Satan is shown to be "the god of this world," transformed into an angel of light, and his ministers fashioning themselves as ministers of righteousness. These were beguiling the saints with that which nature can admire, which the flesh can glory in and the world appreciate. Thus the Corinthians (when the apostles of the Lord were accounted as the off-scouring of all things, and in hunger and thirst and nakedness) were full, and rich, and reigning as kings.

In ministry, they were taken with men who commended themselves and exalted themselves even to bringing them into bondage. Paul, as withstanding all this, had to speak very plainly, contrasting such ministry with his own. Only in this way could he deal adequately with such fleshly glory, such worldly ways, such boasting in men, such exaltation of gift. But evidently to call Jesus, their Lord and Saviour, to mind, to show forth His death, crucified by the great ones of the world and crucified in weakness,
"Every mark of dark dishonour
Heaped upon the thorn-crowned brow,"
would most effectually deal with their fleshly admiration of worldly men and things, if they had any tenderness of conscience at all. And what a priceless gem do all who "love our Lord Jesus Christ in incorruptness," and are themselves not "corrupted from the simplicity and purity that is toward Christ" — what a gem, we say, do such possess in the inestimable privilege of calling their adorable Saviour to mind, of having communion with the Father and the Son by the Holy Spirit and with each other, not in certain truths only, but in that death on the cross which has displayed infinite perfections and accomplished inconceivable results! Let us listen to what one has found in this feast. "Were we right-hearted, we would say — What sermon would be more profitable to us? What singing of a full congregation more sweet in our ears than the voice of that ordinance which tells us (so clearly, and with such rich harmony of all kinds of music) of the forgiveness of our sins, of the acceptance of our persons, and of our waiting for the Lord from heaven; and all this in blessed and wondrous fellowship with the brightest display of the name and glory of God?

It is a sorrow to some that even at the table (supper?) of the Lord their minds wander, thoughts intrude, unwelcome as the men who sought to break in Lot's door when he was entertaining angels unawares. And even when things are not so bad, there is the tendency to recall the vast extent of the wealth of the saved, rather than the depths of the poverty to which grace brought the Saviour: as if He had said; "This do in remembrance of your blessings." Perfect and everlasting blessings are indeed made ours — redemption, righteousness, life, sanctification, reconciliation, glory to come. These, and ten thousand blessings more, are ours in Him; but none of these is what is meant by "This do in remembrance of him." And indeed we may say that, boundless as are to the chief of sinners the results of the work of Christ, and infinite in worth as His work is, HIMSELF, the Divine-and-Human Worker, must be greater than His work and its results. They cannot be separated; but it is possible to dwell on many precious truths and not on Him. What is the cross, and all that it has done and won for me, if I entertain unworthy thoughts of Him Who hung upon it? Have we not there presented to us the perfection of moral loveliness in a way that never can be repeated? Only a true believer, we admit, can see form and comeliness in that "visage so marred more than any man, and that form more than the sons of men." Indeed the sons of men among whom we move are earnest and constant in their efforts and endeavours to be as far removed from the beauty of the One we call to mind as possible; and how strong is the tendency in our own hearts to do the same, and to admire what men admire? A study every day of Phil. 2:5–11 would give us an enlarged view of the special character of beauty which was so surpassingly displayed in Jesus, and which has won for Him righteously all honour and glory, as well as love, from God and His Father. Yes, for this every knee shall bow to Him and every tongue confess Him Lord.

Our attention then, when at the Lord's table (supper?), is called, is centred, is fixed on Jesus crucified, His body given for us, His blood shed for us — our sins borne, and we cleansed from them thus — but this adorably precious Saviour for us, both as to His body and His blood. He is, and ever will be, for us in glory, but never so displayed as for us, as in death; and we therefore adoringly celebrate His death.

We not only believe in, but also rejoice to confess in the world, our crucified Lord. If the multitude refuse His authority, and will not have this Man to reign over them, we, while waiting for all things to be put under Him, rejoice that we are put under Him. We bow the knee in grace, we serve this Lord whom the world crucified and still refuses. Precious fruit of remembering Him!

But more, the sacrifice was perfect, and our clearance, perfect; as our God, in the full display of His nature and attributes, was perfect, and Jesus, in obedience, grace, and love, was perfect. Jesus was crucified. There was joy set before Him, and He endured the cross, despising the shame. He was crucified. It was the will of His Father and God, and He loved and obeyed. He was crucified, and crucified for us. Behold then "communion," Christian communion with the Father, with the Son, and with each other. Israel after the flesh when eating the sacrifices were in "communion" with the altar, the symbol of the Jewish religion. Their religious wants rose no higher, shadows satisfied them, though Christ had come. The Gentiles ate of their sacrifices, and when eating had "communion" with demons to whom their deceived hearts offered idolatrous worship (see 1 Cor. 10:18, 20). They ate and drank, as worshippers.

Shall then our "communion" be a matter of indifference? Oh! how great the loss. It can only arise from ourselves, from carelessness as to sin; otherwise, the word is, "Let him eat." The sacrifice is, as we have said, perfect. Infinite and inalienable grace invites us, and enables us, to judge ourselves, and this without hesitation and fear; to discern ourselves, each one himself to see the true nature and character of "the old man" — the "I" that had to be, and was, crucified with Christ, its worthlessness and wickedness; and to refuse and repent of its thoughts, words and deeds. His sufferings for sins, though for ever over, are remembered; and each can say as he discerns His body, in sacred remembrance, He bore my sins in His own body on the tree, that I, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness." Has it been so with me?

Is then the supper a scene for tears? Not as needing consolation, such as was the natural purpose of the bread and cup among the Jews (Jer. 16:7). It is a time of blessing, of praise and thanksgiving: "the cup of blessing which we bless"; and the Lord "gave thanks." Neither is it as an ordinance to be observed to add to the soul's assurance, but a touching memorial of One well known, confided in, and loved. "This do in remembrance of ME." W. B.