• Talks for the Lord's Table by Ralph Amos.
• Handle with Care by Fred A. Youens.
• Where Is My Guest Room? by Reg. E. Hillbrich.
• His Gracious Refreshment by L. G. Crisp.
• "The Last Supper" Fading? by J. E. Brooke.
• "A Remembrance For Ever" by M. D. Keatch.
• The Lord's Table--The Conference Hall of Life by David J. Andrews.
• God Speaks to Us by J. H. McCormick.
• "Once You Were No People, but Now You Are God's People" by R. H. Hillier.
• Breadth and Breath by E. W. Roffey.
• What Happens? by Phillip E. Perry.
• "We Come to Jesus" by E. W. Heard.
• Led by Love by R. V. Amos.

      Each Lord's Day we have the exciting privilege of joining in worship at the Lord's Table. As we recall the great sacrifice of Jesus Christ, our Lord, we realise that this remembrance is more than a commemoration, more even than a covenant, it is a communion.

      It is our practice to select qualified brethren to preside over this important, and sacred, act of worship. No man who has this honour dare regard it lightly. His preparation must be deep and thorough. He must prepare himself, even as he prepares the things he will say. Never can he forget that he is God's servant, and that he will be used to lead the congregation, as an assembly of worshippers, into the very presence of Almighty God.

      Many men who value this office highly, and who do give adequate preparation to themselves, find it

difficult when it comes to what they must say at the Table, for they want to make those present aware of the deeper meaning of what they are to experience.

      To help folk like this we have asked several of our ministers to present short messages suitable for use in the service of communion. They may be used as they appear, or they may be adapted in any way to suit the person who is to preside.

      The title of this little booklet comes from a communion hymn written by one of our British brethren, Gilbert Y. Tickle, where he says,

      It is with this feeling of wonder that we come to worship our Lord and Saviour, who died on the cross which crowned the crest of Calvary, who rose again in the power of God, and who will--one day appear again in glory.

Ralph Amos.      

      As I entered the store two women at the counter were in conversation. What the topic was I have no idea. However I was in time to hear one say, "You know there are some things we cannot afford to be slovenly about." I could not agree more! And by the same token there are things none should undertake without an exercise of respect.

      How applicable to our handling of Divine things. What warnings to this end lie in the pages of the Old Testament. Do you not recall when Isaiah received his call, an angel touched his lips with a red hot coal from the altar. Which coal, it is said the angel conveyed to him by the "tongs" off the altar.

      The suggestion is that when handling sacred things the appropriate tools and techniques must be observed. But for us there scarcely could be any handling of sacred things calling for greater care and respect than our handling of what is here set before us.

      For here displayed before us are our Lord's own chosen symbols of His death and sacrifice. Such an occasion calls not only for deep reverence and consecration, but for very real thanksgiving.

      Then let each of us share as we are led in thanksgiving for the Bread.

      Mark 14:14 (R.S.V.) "Where is my guest room where I am to eat the Passover with my disciples?"

      Today we give a great deal of attention to the arrangement of our homes. We endeavour to make sure that the furniture and colour schemes are appropriate to the function of the room.

      The guest, or the lounge room, comes in for particular attention. It is here that we delight to meet our friends in mutual friendship. We would understand from the nature of our Lord's request, "Where is my guest room?" that Jesus wished to share the companionship of his disciples undisturbed. Arrangements therefore were not haphazard but evidently well planned.

      The celebration of this Passover, unlike others commemorated over Israel's long history, was to mark the fulfilment of all passovers and usher in a new dispensation as having far greater significance in the purpose of Divine redemption.

      Charlotte Becker in a poem, suggests that,

      On that Passover night the new was to supersede the old.

      The "old" was ready to wither, the "new" about to bloom and refresh the world with its fragrance.

      In the guest room that night the Master placed into the hands of his disciples the gifts of the new covenant.

      By it they and succeeding generations would remember the "exodus" the Son of God accomplished for all those who accept God's provision for our salvation.

      "Where is my guest room?" May our response be, as we open the door of our lives to him, Here Lord, come and fill my life with your loving and forgiving presence."

      Jesus took the bread saying, "This is my body."

      He took the cup saying, "This is my blood of the covenant."

For meditation--

      "Behold I stand at the door and knock. If any man hear my voice and open the door, T will come in to him and sup with him and he with me."

      With tender words Jesus gives His gracious invitation to all burdened with the stress and strain arising from the tempo of modern living.

      Some years ago I heard Dr. Norman Dunning tell in a most inspiring manner the story of Thomas Chalmers . . . This good man offered himself for missionary service in West Africa in the section known as "the white man's grave" because of the high incidence of yellow fever. In these times vaccines were unknown. His wife was anxious to go with him but her friends pleaded with her to remain in England. Finally she went because she felt that her place was with her husband in his missionary work. Years later she caught the yellow fever and died. Thomas Chalmers was 500 miles from his nearest white neighbour, 500 miles from a doctor who could speak the same language. With his own hands he dug the grave and with his own lips he read the burial service. But that night, he wrote in his journal of this grievous tragedy, "I mean to serve God better, to read His Word more faithfully and to work harder for His kingdom." And he did.

      Few of us are called to bear a load like that. Nevertheless, day by day problems fall upon us and reduce us and shatter us until, if we were completely honest with ourselves, we should confess that we begin to be afraid of life as little children are afraid of the dark.

      To every Christian each Lord's Day the Master extends His gracious invitation and in

      His wondrous provision at His Table, we may meet Him and be gloriously refreshed.

      Come unto Me and My spirit will strengthen you for the battle of life. My grace will fortify you in the hour of your suffering. My Word will encourage you when life would disappoint you. My presence will quietly comfort you when you seem to be forsaken. Come unto Me for MY arms will enfold you, My grace will uphold you and you shall find rest unto your souls.

      Art experts tell us that Leonardo da Vinci's great painting "The Last Supper" is fading away. They say that he used the wrong kind of oils, and although they put all kinds of lights round it nowadays, it will one day disappear. Is there a spiritual suggestion for us in this information?

      The great master's canvas is a picture of what is itself a picture. The Lord's Supper is a portrayal of the broken body and shed blood of Christ, the symbols of our redemption, which are meant to be ever fresh in our vision and experience.

      Will the real original communion of the Lord's Supper ever fade away? We may confidently answer No, as through the ages the friends of Jesus gather round Him and He breaks the bread and dispenses the cup. It has not faded through the centuries past, and we may be sure it will not through all time to be "until He come."

      But there is a very real sense in which the Lord's Supper may fade. It may fade in our personal experience, through the soiling of sin, the vacancy of inattention, the dust of materialism and the glare of the garish world. Then we may cease to attend, or do so only irregularly, and partake only perfunctorily.

      The Lord's Supper may fade, too, if our corporate witness to the world of the redeeming death of Christ loses its clearness and compelling impact.

      How can we preserve the freshness of the Communion? Not by the bright lights of show and publicity, but by the vital oil of faith, penitence, thanksgiving and love which we bring to its observance.

      Based on Joshua 4:1-8.

      It must have seemed a strange command when first given. Twelve stones to be taken from the bed of the River Jordan, and carried to the bank of the river. I expect there would be plenty who would ask, "Why?"

      Then came the explanation--and, again, I expect everyone would agree that it was a wonderful idea.

      "For," said Joshua, "these stones were to be built as a memorial cairn."

      When the children of these people asked "What do these stones stand for," they were to be told, "They are a reminder that God divided the waters of the river, to enable us to enter this wonderful land. They remind us that our slavery, and our wanderings in the land of death are over. They assure us that now, thanks be to God, we are home."

      It could be that our children ask us today, "Why bother to go to Church? And what does the Communion mean?"

      Can we reply thus?

      "We share in worship and communion because we must never forget what God has done for us. We must remember that God has rescued us from our slavery to sin, and our wanderings in the land of death, and has brought us, through our faith to Himself. We remember the cost of all this--the death of His Son on the cross.

      "This is why we share together here each Sunday. This is why we take the bread and wine. This is why we will go on remembering Him until He comes again, and our fellowship with Him is complete."

      In 1962, as a student of the College of the Bible, Glen Iris, I went to the federal conference at Hobart, having been given leave of absence by my student churches of Bet-Bet and Dunolly. It was a time that I shall never forget, there with the girl who is now my wife, her mother, my parents, fellow college students, hospitable local folk, and with friends in the brotherhood from all over Australia. Stirring addresses, interesting business sessions, and relaxed sight-seeing, all combined to make up for the mild case of seasickness on the way over.

      However, the climax of the whole experience came, strangely enough, only when I was presiding at the Lord's Table back at Bet Bet the following Sunday morning. As I centred my own thoughts on Jesus Christ, with that handful of God's people in that small country church, I felt that the whole meaning of the conference was coming to me:

      "This is the centre and meaning of all that," I thought to myself as I recalled the fellowship, the inspiration, the challenge of the conference.

      Does not this experience point to the unique effectiveness of the Lord's Supper? Is it not the moment when all that we do as Christians is seen as either related or irrelevant to our Master, to his love and sacrifice for us? There must always be this relatedness between our much coming and going, our meetings here and our activities there, and our remembrance of and communion with our Saviour. The Lord's Table is our point of contact; for as we come out of and then return into the conference hall of life, Christ remembered and experienced in the bread and wine will continue to be a living reality.

      The communion is an opportunity for God to speak to you and to me. Paul says: "Here is God's own proof of His love towards us" (Rom. 5:8) As you view these emblems, remember this is the reminder of the "once-for-all-event of the cross" declaring the depth of God's love for you. Remember, too, that God demonstrated His love while you were living in rebellion and going your own way.

      Jesus said to Nicodemus, "that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16). These emblems are declaring, therefore, that the one who receives Jesus Christ as his saviour has forgiveness. God has reconciled him to himself by Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 5:18).

      Jesus also said: "He that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst" (John 6:35). "I am the way, the truth, and the life, no man cometh unto the Father but by me." (John 14:6). In these emblems, therefore, God is saying that we should not waste our time and energy seeking satisfaction that can be found only through Christ.

      Let us therefore take of the bread and drink of the cup with gratitude and consecration "setting our affections on things above" . . . "and looking for the coming of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ."

      When in the midst of his daily occupation, Peter suddenly became aware of Christ's divine qualities, he fell to his knees, crying, "Depart from me for I am a sinful man, O Lord."

      In the midst of life's ongoing we

gather here, around this table, and in the symbols of bread and wine are confronted by "Divine Love."

      We, like Peter, are suddenly aware of our own unworthiness and inadequacy.

      Let us pray:

      Father, in Thy holy presence we acknowledge and confess our unworthiness to stand before Thee. We have by our selfishness hurt and become estranged from those we love; we have tried to meet life's manifold demands by our own ingenuity and in our own strength; we have worshipped before the gods of success, power and self-righteousness and are not worthy to be called by your name. Have mercy upon us, we humbly beseech Thee, forgive and renew us through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

      In the presence of these symbols of Divine Love we are not only conscious of our weakness but of His strength. "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

      As we partake of these emblems we take into ourselves His forgiveness, His renewal, His power. We become electrically aware of a new status, a new situation which is of God's doing.

      ". . . you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, that you may declare the wonderful deeds of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.

      Once you were no people but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy but now you have received mercy."

      The sweep of human history is in this service of sacred Communion. When "Jesus took the bread and broke it," He took the unleavened bread about which careful instruction had been given centuries before. The cup He took was the Passover cup--rich in the history of God's redemptive purposes for an enslaved people.

      But this sweep of history in which God meets man at the deepest point of his need was for Jesus, not merely a backward glance, but the expression of deliberate forward planning. The Kingdom of God is at hand. The Passover wine must now be contained in "new wine skins." The church is to be established. The Holy Spirit is to come in power to be the abiding Presence. The Communion service instituted during "the night on which he was betrayed" is to take in the whole breadth of the Christian church until its triumphant fulfilment. Not even the tragic human history of dividing Christ's church has been able to break this one deep point of sacred tie in which each sees the body and the blood of Jesus as the sign of his redemption.

      Here is breadth in an event--universal?--beyond time and space, eternal in significance, and yet with deep personal intensity. My sins are dealt with.

      Here is breath--and the Breath, as Lesslie Newbigin reminds us, is God's Holy Spirit. It is again the first day of the week. The disciples are again assembled. Jesus again stands in His resurrection power. We hear Him speak once more: "'Peace be unto you: as my Father has sent me, so send I you.' And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said unto them, 'Receive ye the Holy Spirit'." (John 20:21, 22) The word translated "Spirit" is the same Greek word as is used for "Breath."

      When King Arthur lay dying, he called Sir Bedivere to his side, and gave his sword, Excalibur, to the knight, instructing him to throw it as far as he could into a nearby lake.

      Sir Bedivere took the sword and carried it to the water's edge. But when he saw the beauty of the sword, he could not bear to throw it into the water, but hid it, and went empty-handed, back to the king.

      "What happened?" asked King Arthur.

      "Nothing, sire", was the reply.

      "Faithless messenger! You have not done as I asked. Go! Do as I command!"

      Again the knight went, and again he failed to do as his king had asked. Again he had to report to the king that nothing had happened.

      But the third time Sir Bedivere did as his king asked and saw a hand rise from the water, receive the sword and then disappear.

      When he reported this to Arthur, the king was well satisfied, for what had happened was as it should have been.

      As worshippers at the Communion Service, "What happened?" is a question we sometimes ask ourselves after the experience.

      What happened?

      We should never think of the answer as being: "nothing."

      Our King has called his people to Him and told them what they are to do . . .

      ". . . Jesus took bread, and having said the blessing he broke it and gave it to the disciples, with the words: 'Take this and eat; this is my body.'

      "Then he took a cup, and having offered thanks to God he gave it to them with the words: 'Drink from it, all of you. For this is my blood, the blood of the covenant, shed for many for the forgiveness of sins.'"

      These are acts of communion with Christ. In them, His life and ours meet. This is what happens where we do what our Lord asks.

      We receive the Bread and the Wine.

      What happens?

      We are receiving into our own lives, something of the life of Christ, a life that was expressed in the flesh and blood person of Jesus of Nazareth.

      We receive a life given to and for us on the cross; a life given in terms of the reality we all know, flesh and blood reality.

      "When we bless 'the cup of blessing', is it not a means of sharing in the blood of Christ? When we break the bread, is it not a means of sharing in the body of Christ?'"

Hebrews 12:18.

      "For you have not come to a blazing fire that can be touched, to gloom and darkness, storm and tempest blast and a sight which made Moses say "I am horrified and terror stricken!" But you have come to the festal gathering and assembly of God's first-born sons, to a Judge who is God of all and to Jesus the Mediator and to sprinkled blood that speaks a better message than even Abel's did.

      We have come to worship the Lord Jesus in the brightness of the communion which this Table affords. For the emblems on this Table are a sacred reminder of the agreement made between God and His people.

      We contrast the ease of our approach to the Lord's Table with the fear and horror which held the Hebrew tribes rooted in terror stricken awe. They were so afraid to hear the voice of God that they

pleaded with Moses for him to go into God's presence alone.

      Under the Old Law and covenant, men could only expect to find in God lone majesty, complete separation from man, and prostrating fear. But under the new agreement, each believer comes to the Father of all with the supporting presence of the sons of God, unafraid because Jesus is there. No man has ever seen God, but Jesus, we know. He has opened the way for us to come to God and bears in His body the scars of the struggle.

      Along the hard road from separation and failure, the Prodigal returned to his father, ready to make amends for his youthful foolishness. His speech to gain acceptance was already prepared in his head. But his father saw him coming in the distance and ran to meet him. The welcome, the hugs and the kisses were the actions of acceptance.

      May we share the new glory of communion with God-in-Christ because the bread and wine are the reminders of the actions of acceptance.

      The blood of Abel cried for vengeance, but the blood of Jesus speaks a better word, reconciliation. The death of Abel was something which called for revenge. But the death of Jesus has achieved the removal of the barrier, the bridging of the gap, the opening of the way for each son into the heart of the Eternal. May this be your communion experience today.

      For we have come to Jesus--unafraid because we know we are accepted. We have come to Jesus--the name we love, and He calls simply, "Come"

      In the Botanical Gardens in Sydney there is a little section dedicated to the pioneer women of Australia. Here we find a lovely little memorial which bears, simply, the words "Love Led Them." It is an adequate explanation of the power which moved them to do such brave and heroic things. They were led by love!

      As we gather at the Lord's Table those words have an even deeper significance. Here we are reminded of that amazing love which led Jesus Christ to Calvary, to die for us. Surely we must be overwhelmed by the thought that he considered we were worth the crucifixion. He was willing to bear all the agony, and pain, and rejection for us! Here is love in its highest form, for as Jesus once said, "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13. Nor lie's translation).

      Whenever we gather around this table, and allow the eye of faith to gaze back down the arches of the years, we are confronted by the picture of the most wonderful love this world has ever seen. In the light of that love there rises up within us a sense of guilt and unworthiness. We become aware of the travel stains of life, and conscious of the need of cleaning.

      Then, led by our love for him who died for us, we not only confess our weakness, but we claim his forgiveness. In a moment faith becomes vibrant and vital, as we experience the joy and the satisfaction-. which we find in the presence of our Lord. It is at this table that we find new hope, new power, and new direction. We come tired, bewildered, doubting, beaten. Then we commune with Christ our Lord. We go back to the world stronger, rested, and purposeful. In our hearts we carry a love like the love of our Lord; which led to his self-giving on the cross.