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When you were seven you asked me if you could start taking communion. I was not sure. I told you that I didn’t think you understood the importance of what it meant. I thought you liked the smallness of the cup, the sparkle of the grape juice. I thought you wanted to be part of the group. “It’s a very important step,” I said. “This is something between you and Jesus. This is very important to Jesus. He wants you to understand why you’re doing it.”
You looked at me with large, brown eyes and said, “I do, I do understand! Jesus loves me and He died for me!” Still I hesitated.
How could a seven year old understand grace? I didn’t fully understand it myself. How could anyone? It was beyond me. Surely it was beyond you. But you persisted. You asked again.
So, one Sunday, when the communion cup came around, I nodded yes. You held the cup so carefully – so reverently. I hoped, indeed I prayed, that you really understood. You listened so intently, participated so fully.
It was a great responsibility to open that first spiritual door and give you permission to enter.
And now you are all grown up.
And now you say there is no God.
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