Christ instituted the Lord’s Supper for the good of the church. Yet, how often are the souls of believers anxious and troubled at the Table? Generally speaking, the practice of communion has taken on a negative tone. More time is spent fencing the table than feeding the sheep. How unlike the encouraging view of Calvin who claimed that ‘souls can gather great assurance and delight from this Sacrament.’¹

The Supper is a glorious transaction between the Triune God and his church. The Father promises to give his incarnate Son through the mysterious work of the Spirit. In return the church is invited to take and eat by faith.

Bread and wine are fitting signs of this transaction. They represent all that is needful to sustain and nourish the physical body. In a similar way, the flesh and blood of Jesus provide that which is necessary to sustain and nourish the soul. Thus, an analogous relationship exists between the bread and the body of Christ.

It is dangerous to confuse the sign and thing signified as if no differ­ence exists between the two. This is the problem of Roman Catholi­cism. However, it is equally dangerous to stress the differences to such a degree that the signs are emptied of meaning. The latter seems to be the dominant view among evangelicals today. Serious questions need to be asked about the view that treats the Supper merely as a time to remember Christ and his death. How does an exercise of the mind help Christians struggling with doubt and sin? Is such a practice consistent with the biblical doctrine of faith and union with Christ?

A starving man presented with a loaf of bread can remember how good bread tastes and how nourishing it is to his body. However, until he takes and eats that bread it will profit him nothing. Is it any less true for the Christian? The soul hungering and thirsting for Christ will find little comfort in thinking about the importance of his death. It is one thing to remember that Christ died and quite another to know that I am united to him in that death. Any view that stresses the importance of a mere mental exercise is inadequate to meet the deep spiritual needs of Christ’s people.

Calvin realized the danger of emptying the signs of meaning. In his Short Treatise on the Lord’s Supper he wrote,

All the benefit which we should seek in the Supper is annihilated if Jesus Christ be not there given to us as the substance and foundation of all. That being fixed, we will confess, without doubt, that to deny that a true communication of Jesus Christ is presented to us in the Supper, is to render this holy sacrament frivolous and useless – an execrable blasphemy unfit to be listened to.²

In other words, if Christ is not present then we are wasting our time.

The bread and wine are not empty signs. They function as aids to faith, providing the believer with a visible representation of an invisible act of God. This can be illustrated in the baptism of Jesus. As he came up from the water ‘the heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.’ What is the signifi­cance of the dove? Obviously the Holy Spirit is not a bird. The dove is a sign revealing to the eye a hidden work of God. Just as the dove comes down, so too the Holy Spirit, secretly yet truly, came upon Jesus.

Similarly, as bread and wine are received in the mouth for the nour­ishment of the body, Christ is received in the heart by faith to nourish the soul. Robert Bruce, successor of John Knox, helpfully communi­cated this to his congregation at St Giles:

I do not call them signs because they only represent something. I call them signs because they have the Body and Blood of Christ so conjoined with them. Indeed, so truly is the Body of Christ conjoined with the bread, and the Blood of Christ conjoined with the wine, that as soon as you receive the bread in your mouth, you receive the Body of Christ in your soul, and that by faith.³

The lesson to learn from this is that signs are not empty; they are always accompanied by the truth they signify.

This high view of the Supper takes the focus away from us and puts it on Jesus Christ himself as the sole source of salvation. We come to the Table, spiritually hungry and malnourished, and receive that true bread from heaven which gives life to the soul. We come full of sin and guilt and receive the one whose blood was shed to cleanse us of all unright­eousness. We come as those dead to the author and giver of life.

Who is worthy to participate in such a glorious feast? The Supper is a visible demonstration of the gospel. Requirements for worthy participa­tion are no different from those of church membership: repentance of sins, faith in Jesus Christ as Saviour and baptism. All members of the church who have made a public profession of faith have a right to sit at the Table of the Lord.

When church leaders fence the table they must not set the bar higher. Every member in good standing should be strongly encouraged to par­take. This holds true whether one practices open or closed communion. Fencing the table has two functions, one positive and the other negative. First, it should open the Table wide to all of God’s people, the church. Second, it should close the Table to everyone else.

Fencing the table is not a tool to distinguish between the spiritually strong and the spiritually weak within the church. It is not a means of separating the visible church from the invisible church. Nor is it to replace proper church discipline. Calvin warned:

... it will most frequently happen, that sins are not so notorious as to justify proceeding to excommunication; for though the pas­tor may in his heart judge some man to be unworthy, he has not the power of pronouncing him such, and interdicting him from the Supper, if he cannot prove the unworthiness by an ecclesiastical judgment. In such case we have no other remedy than to pray God that he would more and more deliver his Church from all scandals, and wait for the last day, when the chaff will be completely sepa­rated from the good grain.⁴

In an attempt to purify the church it is feared that more harm is being done to weak and frail, yet true Christians. I am not aware of a single hypocrite who has heeded the words of warning during the commun­ion service and refrained from partaking. However, I know of many a ‘bruised reed’ and ‘smoking flax’ who has been broken and quenched by such misdirected warnings. Shouldn’t we be more willing to accept a Judas at the Table, as Jesus did, than deny a Peter?

Far too often the practice of fencing the Table has turned believers within on a vain quest for subjective evidence to prove their worthiness. Have I enough faith in my Saviour? Am I putting to death sin as best I can? Do I love my neighbour as I ought? Such a practice is more fitting for a legalistic Pharisee than a needy sinner (Luke 18:9-14). It is tortur­ing tender consciences.

Biblical self-examination is always consistent with the gospel mes­sage. It encourages us to look within to see our sickness and need. However, it never stops there. Next, it forces us out of ourselves to find a remedy, one who can meet that need. We must never allow self-exami­nation to devolve into morbid introspection. It has a glorious end, to lead us out of ourselves so that we can rest wholly in Christ.

If we are looking for something within to qualify us for the table we will always be disappointed. Calvin, in a masterful piece of pastoral counsel wrote:

Therefore, this is the worthiness – the best and only kind we can bring to God – to offer our vileness and (so to speak) our unworthi­ness to him so that we may be lifted up by him; to accuse ourselves so that we may be justified by him; moreover, to aspire to that unity which he commends to us in his Supper; and, as he makes all of us one in himself, to desire one soul, one heart, one tongue for all ... How could we, needy and bare of all good, befouled with sins, half-dead, eat the Lord’s body worthily? Rather, we shall think that we, as being poor, come to a kindly giver; as sick, to a physician; as sinners, to the Author of righteousness; finally, as dead, to him who gives us life. We shall think that the worthi­ness, which is commanded by God, consists chiefly in faith, which reposes all things in Christ, but nothing in ourselves.⁵

What about those with doubts and lack of assurance? When consid­ering the role of faith it must be remembered that the presence of faith, not the quantity of faith, is what matters. Even the weakest of faith in Christ is still saving faith. Church leaders should avoid language that suggests that doubt and lack of assurance disqualifies someone from the Table. The Westminster Larger Catechism provides helpful guidance on this particular issue.

Question 172: May one who doubteth of his being in Christ, or of his due preparation, come to the Lord’s supper?

Answer: One who doubteth of his being in Christ, or of his due preparation to the sacrament of the Lord’s supper, may have true interest in Christ, though he be not yet assured thereof; and in God’s account hath it, if he be duly affected with the apprehension of the want of it, and unfeignedly desires to be found in Christ, and to depart from iniquity: in which case (because promises are made, and this sacrament is appointed, for the relief even of weak and doubting Christians) he is to bewail his unbelief, and labour to have his doubts resolved; and, so doing, he may and ought to come to the Lord’s supper, that he may be further strengthened.

If you are a Christian who has refrained from taking the Supper because of doubt or a sense of unworthiness then I would encourage you to rethink your position. To turn away from the sacrament is to turn away from Christ. It is tantamount to a rejection of the gospel itself. Surely you would think it absurd for a starving man to refuse food when it is offered. Is it any different when spiritual food is offered to the soul of a weak and needy Christian?

It is my hope that the church will recover this high and encouraging view of the Lord’s Supper. By feeding on Christ our fears and doubts will be replaced with joy and delight. This is good news indeed.