Do you wonder if you are receiving the same blessings from God that everyone around you seems to be receiving?

Every first Sunday of the month is our church’s designated “communion Sunday.” As one of the deacons preparing and serving communion, I am aware of the importance of not running out of the elements – the bread and the wine – before everyone is served.  In fact, in our care to make sure there is enough for everyone who desires to partake of the communion table, the deacons often overfill the trays of bread and wine to excess.

Last Sunday, my role on the communion team was to be the silent deacon.  The silent deacon can be likened to an “extra” in a play.  At our church, this silent deacon sits in the balcony and helps the other deacons with serving those seated in the balcony, as needed. On this particular Sunday, the other deacons didn’t need help, and I didn’t have much to do but sit in the balcony and watch the other deacons serving.

Now, I can take my place on the bench like the next guy, knowing that I’ll be in the game in the next inning.  However, life lately had been dealing me a series of sideliner positions, causing me to question when God would let me back in the game – if I would be welcomed – as a real player.

This communion Sunday, while I was “warming the bench” in the balcony, my private thoughts were about the communion table and the cross – the one place in this world where all sinners are have a place. Everyone, no matter their class or status, can participate – no one is sidelined. I was looking forward to joining the rest of the congregation in this most sacred of remembrances.

As the communion time began, one of the deacons interrupted my thoughts, offering me a piece of bread from a tray in front of me. I gratefully accepted, and he went on to serve the rest of the congregation in the balcony. After that part of the communion was over, the next element to be served was the wine. Having participated in this ritual numerous times, I waited for the serving deacon to come by with the tray of wine, as he had done with the bread.

To my surprise, the deacon serving in the balcony did not stop to offer me the wine tray. In fact, he served everyone else seated, and walked right past where I was seated in the balcony.

I felt overlooked – a bit of a sense of injustice, not only because I missed the chance to serve the communion as a regular deacon, but because, the wine, representing the blood of Christ, had also passed me by.

I comforted myself with the thought that this plastic cup with grape juice in it was nothing but a symbol, and quietly reminded myself that I still belong to Christ.

Then, it happened. I saw. In the pew where I was having this internal struggle there was, not just one, but three plastic cups full of grape juice symbolizing the blood of Christ. Not only did I have a cup of grape juice, but an abundance of them! It then dawned on me that all of the pews around me were also populated with plastic cups full of grape juice – and I was the only one sitting there.

This was what I needed that Sunday. A reminder of the truth that the blood of Christ never runs out. I thought I had been overlooked and on this particular Sunday, would not have the opportunity to partake of Christ’s blood in a symbolic way. But there, right in front of me, the cups, symbolizing His cleansing blood, were everywhere.

Christ’s blood – His love – never runs out.  It never gives up on me.  I am hardly overlooked.