Communion stands at the heart of Christian worship. When we take the bread and the cup, we aren’t simply recalling a distant historical event. We are participating in a living mystery—one that ties together the cross, the resurrection, and the hope of new creation. Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 11:23 take us back to the night Jesus was betrayed, while John’s vision in Revelation 21:1–6 takes us forward to the day when all things are made new. Between those two moments—the table and the throne—we find ourselves living in holy anticipation.
Communion is remembrance, but it is also prophecy. We remember Christ’s broken body and shed blood, and at the same time we proclaim, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” This meal stretches across time. The saints who have gone before us are already partaking of the wedding feast of the Lamb (Revelation 19:9), and every time we gather at the table, we join them in spirit, tasting in advance the joy that awaits.
Text: “For I received from the Lord what I
also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took
bread.” Explanation:
Paul’s introduction to the Lord’s Supper reminds us that this act of worship is
not a human invention but a divine command. The phrase “I received from the
Lord” emphasizes apostolic authority—Paul did not create this ritual; he was
entrusted with it directly through divine revelation (Fee 546). The Supper
connects believers to the foundation of their faith: the self-giving of Christ.
The bread and cup serve as tangible signs of an unseen grace, symbols through
which we remember His sacrifice and participate in the benefits of His
atonement (Barrett 271).
Paul’s
setting—“on the night he was betrayed”—anchors Communion in both sorrow and
love. It was the night of treachery, yet also the night of deepest compassion.
Jesus took the common elements of a meal and infused them with eternal meaning.
The table that was once a place of Passover remembrance became a table of new
covenant promise.
Wesleyan/Methodist
Perspective:
John Wesley viewed Communion as a “means of grace,” a channel through which the
Holy Spirit strengthens faith and renews believers in love. Wesley called it
“the grand channel whereby the grace of His Spirit was conveyed to the souls of
all the children of God” (Wesley, Sermon 101). For Methodists, the
Lord’s Table is open to all who desire to know Christ’s love. Participation is
not merely symbolic—it is a spiritual feast where heaven and earth meet, and
where the believer experiences the real presence of Christ in a mystery beyond
full understanding (Outler 134).
Apologetic
Note:
Skeptics often reduce Communion to a ritualized memory, arguing that it has no
real power. Yet Paul’s account shows that the Supper is more than
remembrance—it’s revelation. The same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead
makes His presence real among His people. The early church risked persecution
to celebrate this meal because they understood it as participation in Christ’s
life, not an empty gesture. The continuity of this practice across centuries
and cultures underscores its divine origin and sustaining grace.
Text: “Then I saw a new heaven and a new
earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away... He who was
seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’”
Explanation:
John’s vision pulls the curtain back on eternity. The communion table points
toward this moment—the fulfillment of every promise and the restoration of all
creation. The imagery of “a new heaven and a new earth” echoes Isaiah 65:17,
where God declares His intent to renew, not discard, creation. The “Holy City,
the new Jerusalem” descending signifies God’s presence fully dwelling with His
people. The voice from the throne assures that death, mourning, crying, and
pain will cease forever (Beale 1043).
Here
we see the culmination of the covenant begun at the Last Supper. The Lamb who
was slain now reigns, and His people share in His victory. The words, “It is
done. I am the Alpha and the Omega,” mirror Jesus’ cry from the cross, “It is
finished” (John 19:30). The story that began with redemption ends in
restoration.
Wesleyan/Methodist
Perspective:
Wesley saw Revelation’s vision as the completion of God’s redeeming
purpose—grace brought to perfection. The new creation is the “grand recovery”
of the image of God in humanity and the world (Collins 212). In Communion,
believers experience a foretaste of that reality. The bread and cup are tokens
of what God will one day complete: perfect fellowship, complete healing, and
eternal joy. For Wesleyans, this eschatological hope strengthens perseverance.
The Lord’s Table reminds us that our story does not end in death or decay but
in resurrection and renewal.
Apologetic
Note:
Critics sometimes view Christian hope as escapist or naïve, but Revelation 21
presents a deeply grounded vision. The new creation does not discard the
physical world; it redeems it. The same God who took on flesh in Jesus will
dwell forever with His people in a tangible, renewed world. Communion,
therefore, becomes a sign of that incarnational hope—a reminder that God’s
redemptive plan embraces body and spirit, time and eternity.
The Lord’s Table and the heavenly banquet belong to the same story. At the table, we remember what Christ has done; at the throne, we behold what He will do. Communion sits in the middle—between remembrance and fulfillment. When we gather, we proclaim the mystery of faith: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.
Those who have gone before us—the saints we name and remember—are already partaking in that eternal feast. We join them by faith, sharing the same grace and anticipating the same glory. The bread and cup connect generations of believers, uniting heaven and earth in one act of worship. This is why, in Communion, sorrow and joy coexist. We mourn the separation of death, but we rejoice in the promise that “God himself will be with them and be their God” (Revelation 21:3).
In that sense, Communion is not merely a backward glance to the cross, but a forward step toward the kingdom. It is a bridge of grace spanning Calvary and the New Jerusalem. Every time the church breaks bread and lifts the cup, we echo the promise of Revelation: “He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new.’”
All Saints Day fits beautifully within this theology of remembrance and anticipation. Celebrated on November 1 (or the first Sunday thereafter), it is the day the church pauses to honor the “great cloud of witnesses” who have finished their race and now rest in God’s presence (Hebrews 12:1). It is not a day of grief alone, but of gratitude and unity. The word “saint” in Scripture does not mean perfection—it means belonging to God. Every believer, past and present, is part of this communion of saints.
John Wesley held All Saints Day in special regard, calling it “a festival I truly love” because it reminded him that the church on earth and the church in heaven remain one in Christ (Outler 379). For Wesley, the celebration pointed to the ultimate fellowship of all believers—the church militant (still on earth) and the church triumphant (already with Christ).
On All Saints Day, when we speak the names of those who have gone before us, we are not speaking into emptiness. We are naming those who are already at the feast. The same Christ who feeds us at His table has welcomed them home. In the mystery of faith, we stand shoulder to shoulder with the redeemed of every generation. The bread we break and the cup we share join us to Abraham, to Mary, to Paul, to Wesley, and to every soul redeemed by grace.
In apologetic terms, All Saints Day offers a powerful witness to the continuity and hope of the Christian faith. In a culture that often fears death or denies eternity, the church boldly declares that love endures beyond the grave. The communion of saints is not a sentimental idea—it is a living reality grounded in the resurrection. When we approach the Lord’s Table on All Saints Sunday, we are standing in the overlap of heaven and earth, remembering that the veil between us and eternity is far thinner than we think.
All Saints Day reminds us that Communion is not an isolated act of remembrance, but participation in the ongoing story of God’s redeeming work. It is both memorial and prophecy—looking back to the cross and forward to the crown. In that sacred space, grief becomes gratitude, and hope becomes worship.
