Tonight I watched as people entered the auditorium for our communion service.
I saw a young man staring at his feet as he entered, never once looking up as if frightened to reveal his eyes in case someone might be able to see what he longed to hide.
I saw an elderly man who in the past attended with his family, a family now torn apart by lies and deception and divorce. The loneliness and sadness on his quiet face said more than his words ever would.
I saw a man whose mind is brilliant and creative yet rendered useless by the bi-polar episodes that rage deep within him.
I saw an entire row of young girls visiting from China sitting with their hosts. They looked excited to be there and interested in each detail of the service and in all of the people that surrounded them.
All of these diverse people coming from completely different circumstances yet intimately known by their creator.
I wondered as I watched them enter what was on their minds, what was troubling them or what they dreaded about next week. I wondered if they knew this Jesus of communion is all they really longed for.
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