This week, with Holy Week in Christian belief beginning Sunday, I'm thinking about a table — the Last Supper table with Jesus and His 12 disciples.

He's about to die a brutal death by crucifixion. The confronting of this personal trauma would happen deeper into the night in the garden before His arrest. But at this Communion table with His friends Jesus was intent on them, and the generations yet to come who would benefit from what He was going to do.

He gave thanks over the unleavened bread, broke it, and passed it to them saying, “This is My body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.” He did the same thing with the communal cup of wine, “This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in My blood.”

They had no idea what was going on — until later. I have the benefit of the rest of the story — His resurrection, and the revelation that God came into the world to rescue the people He had created — to die for sin, in order to take away sin, in order to offer eternal life with Him in a kingdom without sin.

Is such supreme sacrifice just “pie in the sky” stuff? Unnecessary? Meaningless?

Is it nothing more than a dramatic “video game” with multiple “worlds?”

Perhaps it's worth looking at in this way. Sin is a little word with a big reputation. Its original definition is “to miss the mark.” What mark? The mark of God's standard for how to best live. To some that sounds completely boring. But when you read the life of Jesus it is anything but boring.

Sin is so subtle. It's in thoughts and attitudes, not just words and actions. It's in “I want it my way,” and “Don't tell me what to do,” and “Leave me alone.” It's in neglect and carelessness and ingratitude.

Jesus around the Last Supper table was teaching His disciples He would provide a way out for them in their sin. They could leave old tired self-serving ways behind and become a “new creation.” God was opening a path for forgiveness once for all. An offering made through His Son.

Such a gift makes possible an intimate bond with the God who loves me, but who cannot overlook sin. I have to acknowledge it—to care about turning from it—to accept the forgiveness freely given, but at unimaginable cost to the Giver. All because God wants to indwell my life—to share it with me—to enrich it—and keep it going.

A body broken for me — life blood poured out for me. Forgiven and free.

The bread and the cup — a table to which I am invited. Food that doesn't run out.