Remember Me
“Drink this… and remember me.” Jesus’ eyes brimmed with tears as he extended the cup
towards John.
It trembled in his hand. A drop spilled down the side.
Oh don’t worry, we won’t! Especially me. I’m your best friend! Or what about Peter?
2000 years later, a pastor raises his grape juice and says with a smile, “Today we rememberJesus…”
But I do, Jesus. It’s been my focus all year long.
I’ll admit, I’ve skipped prayer or bible study a few times. I’ve been far from perfect. But I remembered, didn’t I? Who could forget?
John was there when the earth shook violently in a cry of grief as its Maker drew His last breath.
Peter himself touched the folded cloth in the empty tomb.
What did Jesus really mean by “Remember me”?
Maybe he wasn’t referring to just singing Chris Tomlin, or cutting out felt tomb stickers.
Maybe he wasn’t asking us to just make that annual seeker-friendly sermon or plan a huge crowd-pleasing Passion.
Whether it’s spoken to Jesus’ best friend or to a young church girl across the planet 2000 year later, I don’t think it means to just have a mental acknowledgement that the event happened.
Jesus has always seemed to desire something more, something deeper.
And, you know what… I think so do we.
When we take time to remember a loved one who has passed away, it inspires us to do something. Maybe it’s donate to cancer research, or cook a meal for a hurting neighbor.
Ormaybe it’s simply not to take life for granted.
We long to use a grief for good, to find meaning in it. Like a flower blooming in a bed of ashes,there’s something about remembering that leads to restoration, healing, and hope.
That night, Jesus told his friends that He would be going away. The grief pierced their soul so deeply, they could not even keep themselves awake during their last few moments with Him.
I’m sure many of us can relate to that.While we gather to acknowledge Jesus’ death, that is not why we grieve. We grieve like a bride
He is not dead, but he is gone. Our gathering together is not a funeral, but it is out of loss. So we take time to remember.
“And he said to them, ‘I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.’”
Paul also says, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes,” (1 Cor. 11:26 ESV).
In the meantime, while He is away, we keep the sweet memory of His presence alive. We show hospitality, we give, we love. None of it could ever replace His presence, but that’s exactly why it helps us remember.
Like starting to punch in the phone number of a loved one, it is a sudden painful reminder to us
that He isn’t here anymore.
The last words of John’s letter before he signed it–the last words ever written of inspired scripture–wrap up this precious book so beautifully. It is a heartfelt cry we all share:
“Come, Lord Jesus.”
towards John.
It trembled in his hand. A drop spilled down the side.
Oh don’t worry, we won’t! Especially me. I’m your best friend! Or what about Peter?
2000 years later, a pastor raises his grape juice and says with a smile, “Today we rememberJesus…”
But I do, Jesus. It’s been my focus all year long.
I’ll admit, I’ve skipped prayer or bible study a few times. I’ve been far from perfect. But I remembered, didn’t I? Who could forget?
John was there when the earth shook violently in a cry of grief as its Maker drew His last breath.
Peter himself touched the folded cloth in the empty tomb.
What did Jesus really mean by “Remember me”?
Maybe he wasn’t referring to just singing Chris Tomlin, or cutting out felt tomb stickers.
Maybe he wasn’t asking us to just make that annual seeker-friendly sermon or plan a huge crowd-pleasing Passion.
Whether it’s spoken to Jesus’ best friend or to a young church girl across the planet 2000 year later, I don’t think it means to just have a mental acknowledgement that the event happened.
Jesus has always seemed to desire something more, something deeper.
And, you know what… I think so do we.
When we take time to remember a loved one who has passed away, it inspires us to do something. Maybe it’s donate to cancer research, or cook a meal for a hurting neighbor.
Ormaybe it’s simply not to take life for granted.
We long to use a grief for good, to find meaning in it. Like a flower blooming in a bed of ashes,there’s something about remembering that leads to restoration, healing, and hope.
That night, Jesus told his friends that He would be going away. The grief pierced their soul so deeply, they could not even keep themselves awake during their last few moments with Him.
I’m sure many of us can relate to that.While we gather to acknowledge Jesus’ death, that is not why we grieve. We grieve like a bride
He is not dead, but he is gone. Our gathering together is not a funeral, but it is out of loss. So we take time to remember.
“And he said to them, ‘I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.’”
Paul also says, “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes,” (1 Cor. 11:26 ESV).
In the meantime, while He is away, we keep the sweet memory of His presence alive. We show hospitality, we give, we love. None of it could ever replace His presence, but that’s exactly why it helps us remember.
Like starting to punch in the phone number of a loved one, it is a sudden painful reminder to us
that He isn’t here anymore.
The last words of John’s letter before he signed it–the last words ever written of inspired scripture–wrap up this precious book so beautifully. It is a heartfelt cry we all share:
“Come, Lord Jesus.”
About the Author: My name is Tia Brown. I’m committed to changing the world one scripture mug at a time.
Especially as a stay-at-home-mom, having my favorite verse, my favorite coffee, and some time
alone with Jesus every day is crucial to keeping me sane. I love encouraging people to pursue
deeper a relationship with Jesus through my writing and watercolor. Website: myscripturemug.com
