By Corinne Hayes
When I was a child, I was crazy about my grandpa, Lemoine Williams. I loved him and he loved me, calling me Tiger Woman.
He died suddenly of a heart attack when I was 4. About a year later, my Grandma Williams also died. I remember telling my mother through tears that I was afraid that I would forget what they looked like. What my five-year-old heart was saying was that I was afraid that I would forget them, who they were and their influence on my life.
Everyone at some point in life experiences this kind of loss.
When Jesus died, I imagine that the Believers went through such an experience. The first time they gathered after His death to remember Him, I am sure that they shared stories of who He was, what He had done, and how He had changed them. Communion on Sunday is a time set aside to remember Him. As we take the bread of His body during this communion time, I often imagine what the first believers talked about those many years ago. Perhaps one of them said, “Do you remember that scripture of old? "He was wounded for my transgressions; He was bruised for my iniquities, the chastisement of my peace was on Him!” Another may have shared about the time that He extended love and forgiveness to the prostitute, or the time that He touched the leper that everyone else was afraid to touch for fear of being struck with the same illness.
As they shared His Blood, I can imagine them marveling at the price He paid and the vast treasure he bought with that blood, that treasure of FREEDOM… because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. (Romans 8:2) His blood set us free from the very power of sin over our lives!