The Savior’s Love and the Lord’s Supper

Memorably, and perhaps perplexingly, the account of the Last Supper in Luke 22 begins with a whole lot of rigmarole regarding where the Passover meal is to happen and how the disciples are to discover it. The circumstances are reminiscent of a Cold War spy novel, with signs, code phrases, and secret locations: “A man carrying a jar of water will meet you. … Tell the master of the house, ‘The Teacher says ….’” (vv. 10–11). We might wonder: Why all the subterfuge? Was Jesus acting out of fear?

A careful consideration of the situation reveals another motivation altogether: deep, abiding love. Jesus’ presence in Jerusalem had caused a spectacle—and yet on the night of the Passover, He wanted privacy so that He could spend time with His dear friends: “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (v. 15). These were His companions. He had called them by name. He had loved them (John 13:1) and called them “to be with him” (Mark 3:14). And so He took pains, as it were, to ensure that on their last night together—as He would, among other things, institute the practice of the Lord’s Supper—they would enjoy the intimacy such a sacred time deserved.

As we consider the Lord’s love for the Twelve as expressed in this scene, we may learn at least two lessons about His love for all of His disciples, across all time.

The Intensity of Love’s Connection

One lesson is simply this: Just as Jesus strongly desired for His disciples to “be with him,” so He passionately longs for intimacy with all of His followers.

In verse 15, the Greek phrase epithymia epethymēsa (“I have earnestly desired”) can be literally rendered “With desire I have desired” (KJV). It employs two forms of the same word used elsewhere for the starving Prodigal’s longing for the pig slop in Luke 15:16: “He was longing to be fed…” The same word is also used for the angels’ longing for the mystery of the Gospel in 1 Peter 1:12: “the things … into which angels long to look.” It is, in other words, an intense desire. During His last joyful moments before the cross, the Lord of the universe—the one who had calmed the raging sea, turned water into wine, and raised the dead—longed, deeply, to spend time with these humble, unimpressive, often foolish men. 

Remarkably, this same Lord Jesus has pledged Himself with an intense longing to be our Savior and friend (Matt. 11:19; Luke 7:34; John 15:13–15). In His letter to the church at Laodicea, for instance, Jesus says, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Rev. 3:20). It is a picture of remarkable intimacy—the Lord entering the home of our very selves, sitting down at our table, and sharing a meal, conversation, and friendship with us.

During His last joyful moments before the cross, the Lord of the universe longed, deeply, to spend time with these humble, unimpressive, often foolish men.

If we’re honest, we can admit that Jesus is far more willing to grant us friendship than we are to seek it. We ought to ask ourselves, then: Does Jesus live with us? Have we known His companionship? Have we awakened in the morning to the realization that Jesus loves us with such an intense longing? Do we realize that in the reading of the Bible, He speaks to us, and we discover His will? That in the fellowship of His people, He builds us and teaches us? That in the singing of His praise, we discover the wonder of who He is? And that God offers all of this to us because He wants to be with us?

There’s all the difference in the world between going through the motions and connecting with the intensity of Jesus’ love. Is that a difference that marks your friendship with the Messiah?

The Clarity of Love’s Instruction

A second lesson has to do with the practice of Communion itself: As Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper, He introduced an ordinance to be observed by all believers throughout time, until His return, as a remembrance of the sacrifice He offered and the salvation He secured.

Under the old covenant, the Passover meal memorialized the tenth plague, the sparing of Israel’s firstborn, and the exodus from Egypt. This was God’s great act of salvation for Israel in the Old Testament. Centuries later, on the Mount of Transfiguration, Jesus had called His coming passion His “exodus” (Luke 9:31 NLT), or “departure” in most English translations. In other words, on that fateful night, all that was anticipated and portrayed in the Passover was about to be fulfilled in Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. 

Today, in certain Jewish households, when the food arrives at the Passover meal, the host will lift the unleavened bread and pronounce, “This is the bread of affliction that our fathers ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry come and eat. Let all who are needy come and celebrate Passover.” The host will then break the bread and pass it around to everyone to eat in silence. Similarly, he will offer a number of blessings over a cup of wine.

All that was anticipated and portrayed in the Passover was about to be fulfilled in Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross.

On the occasion of the Last Supper, Jesus had His own pronouncement to make: “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In other words, He was saying, “I Myself am the Passover bread, and the broken bread is My affliction on your behalf. When you do this, you should remember Me.” With the wine, too, the picture is taken up in the Lord Jesus: “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” The cup calls to mind, then, not the old covenant with Abraham, according to which God brought the people out of Egypt, but the new covenant in the Son’s blood, by which God forgives our sins, puts His law within us, and allows us to know Him (Jer. 31:31–34 ).

The instruction is clear: By His death, in His love, Jesus accomplished a new and better exodus—and if we are His friends, we ought to remember it (John 15:14). Just as the blood of the Passover lamb saved Israel from death and slavery, so the blood of Jesus sets us free from slavery to sin and death, cleansing us from the guilt and power of sin. And in doing so, it draws us into the communion with Him that He so deeply desires and secures our place with Him for eternity (John 14:3).

The Opportunity of Love’s Communion

When we observe the Communion meal in our churches out of obedience to Jesus’ command to “do this,” we have communion with the Lord Jesus, our Savior and friend. He eagerly desires to offer this meal to us.

The Lord’s Supper is not about following rules and regulations. It’s about communion with Jesus. It would be foolish to miss your child’s birthday party and say, “Well, I can be there next year. After all, it’s how I feel for her in my heart that is most important, not that I go to the party itself.” It is foolish, too, to neglect the celebration that the Lord has instituted—indeed, has commanded—out of a misplaced idea that mere faith is the most important thing.

In the Lord’s Supper, we remember the new covenant and the immense love of Christ for us. That is an occasion for solemn joy, and it is not an opportunity to be missed. With a love so intense and an instruction so clear, we ought not to neglect the opportunity to remember and commune with Him.

This article was adapted from the sermon “The Extent of His Love” by Alistair Begg.