"Broken for you"

"This is my body, which is broken for you...."

But I'm allergic to wheat.

Yes, life is still worth living.
I've known for seven years now.
No, it's not as bad as you think.
Yes, you get used to it.
I know; I, too, was bummed to find out I couldn't eat pizza anymore.
Yes, life goes on.
Don't worry, if you find out you're allergic to wheat you, too, will survive.
Yes, it's possible to live a normal life. Even if you're allergic to wheat.
Trust me.

But I'm not gonna lie.... There are times when it really, really sucks.

"This is my body, broken for you. This do in remembrance of me, for as often as you eat the bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death til he comes."

It's hard to hear that at church every Sunday and want to participate but not be able to. To want to remember and to proclaim the Lord's death--on your behalf-- but not be able to.

Just because you're allergic to wheat.

"This is my body, broken for you."

Jesus broke his body for me, too-- I would remind myself as I sat in the pew while others partook and proclaimed his death.

And then today there was this little note in my bulletin: "Gluten free bread is available at the table upon request."

"This is my body, broken for you." You. Me.

Even though I'm allergic to wheat.

For the first time in a long time, I took my place in the communion line.

Can I have gluten-free? -- I whispered when I got to the table.

He uncovered a plate of gluten-free crackers, and I started to dip it in the wine.
"Wait!" Jason said and reached for a separate, for-gluten-free-dipping-only wine glass.

"This is my body which is broken for you."

My eyes filled with tears.

Broken for the broken, the broken-hearted, the glutarded, the messy people.

Broken for me.

"This is my body, which is broken for YOU."

Thanks be to God.