Taking the Lord’s Supper

Do you ever struggle to take communion? If so, you’re not an outlier when it comes to scrupulosity. If you struggle with obsessions about your standing with God and others, it’s no wonder that the Lord’s Supper would be a place of increased anxiety. Perhaps you’ve had these thoughts:

“I can’t be certain I’m saved, so I’d better not take it.”

“Am I sure I’m at peace with everyone around me?”

“That time I did [or said, or thought] ______ disqualifies me.”

“What if I know I’m really not saved, so I’m just being a hypocrite by taking the elements? I’m bringing condemnation on myself.”

And the “what ifs” go on and on.

I hate this anxiety. I hate sitting in the thought that maybe I’m not saved. So I may do one of two things. One, I may take communion while praying compulsively, as though the prayers themselves can guard my soul from judgment. I may also try to work myself into a state where I’m truly sorry (which of course is always just out of reach for my scrupulosity to be satisfied). The other option is that I may leave the sanctuary and not partake, the compulsion of avoidance winning out. After all, it’s easier not to do the thing that will just increase anxiety.

Solemn Introspection & Individual Confession?

Since scrupulosity does not work in a vacuum, I think it’s also helpful to consider the ways our church culture aggravates the struggle.

Often times, communion can become a somber affair, a time to reflect on your sins, confess to the Lord, consider if you need to repent to others, and examine your heart to see if you’re worthy to take the elements.

Overly scrupulous people don’t need encouragement to examine their hearts; over-examination is, after all, the problem in the first place. Scrupulosity is all too comfortable staying in that place of introspection, and it’ll never leave that loop. Yet contrary to how it may seem, further ruminating will never bring you to a place of peace and assurance. So while of course the call to examine is right and godly, and anyone fencing the table should encourage it, excessive introspection should be discouraged. The Lord’s Supper should be a place where, yes, we consider the cost Christ paid for the sins that we’ve committed. But that should ultimately point us to him, to who he is and what he’s done. It’s introspection for the sake of extrospection, self-examination for the sake of Christ-exaltation.

When he instituted the Lord’s Supper, Jesus told his disciples to “do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19), the bread and the wine being symbols of his broken body and his poured-out blood, a testimony to his work, a sacrament and means of grace he has given to his people. The whole meal should point to the One who sacrificed his very self for our sakes.

Many churches also have an ethos of solemnity around the table. But the Lord’s Supper is a feast of celebration. True, we can’t separate it from Jesus’s death and resurrection, which should always sober us as we remember the lengths our Savior went to rescue us from sin and death. And yet that very truth should also cause celebration. We have not been left to our own devices. Dark as our hearts are, and despairing as we can sometimes feel, we have been rescued and redeemed by our God, and communion is a feast to proclaim that truth.

Moreover, communion is not an individualistic affair, as some churches can make it seem. It’s not something we are called to do in isolation, but with the body of Christ. It is a feast with family, not an obligatory meal eaten alone.

An Invitation to Grace

These are vital frameworks for taking communion, but I know that they don’t disperse the anxiety. Yet the presence of anxiety and intrusive thoughts is not a disqualification. You may find that as you move out in faith and take communion, even when your thoughts and feelings are screaming for you to refrain, that it only intensifies the anxiety. This is true anytime we resist a compulsion. But I encourage you to not take that as a sign about your faith. Simply take it as a sign of OCD. Part of fighting OCD is learning not to fight the thoughts and anxiety, but doing the opposite of what it tells you, simply letting the anxiety be present without trying to reason it away. And this is what, over time, actually strengthens a scrupulous conscience and and eventually lessens anxiety in the long run.

Scrupulous friend, do not wait to take communion until you’re completely certain about where you stand with God, the state of your relationships with others, or whether or not you’ve confessed your sins in their entirety or with sincerity. Because that certainty, which OCD demands, will never come.

The great thing about this feast is that it doesn’t depend on your feelings or your amount of faith. The power of Christ to cleanse you does not wax and wane with your faith. To receive grace, you don’t need to first clean yourself up, rack your brain for every last sin to confess, and work up a certain amount of sadness. God does not ask you to make yourself right, but to realize that you never can and to come to the One who alone can make you right. As the hymn says, “all the fitness he requires is to feel your need of him.”¹ If your conscience accuses you of any number of sins, well, it may or may not be right. But either way, it cannot keep you from receiving the grace of Jesus, made tangible in the bread and the wine.

One of the things I love about my current church is the way the pastors frame the table, with a clear focus on Christ’s work. One of my pastors recently said to not evaluate your worthiness to come to the table by your life, or even by your past week. Evaluate your worthiness to come by whether or not Christ’s body was good enough to be broken for you.

If you come off of the basis of that alone, there is no reason to delay!

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1. Joseph Hart, “Come, Ye Sinners Poor and Needy” ↩︎