I hate it when we strip the alter. It's so empty and cold and unforgivingly, smotheringly dark, especially with the black cloth over the crucifix. It was relief both when Pastor took the cloth off, and when they brought the communion out.

It would seem humiliating to some people, worshiping this disgusting, bloody and naked Man, hanging off a tree, but to me it is the look of victory. Seeing what He did out of unconditional love for me, me, this one who appears disgusting, bloody and naked. Shameful.

And through this His own Father, the One who loves Him more than any other, is comforting me. I see this reflected in my life through my parents and other authorities, like Mom comforting me at Grandpa's funeral, and Pastor absolving me*, and i not paying attention because i kept thinking of their miscarriage, and feeling sorry for him. (apologies that that doesn't quite fit, but i kept thinking of it anyway.)


* I love when Pastor lays his hand on my head. Dad did that to me when i was little, and it's a very comforting, safe feeling. It was to me the only drawback of receiving communion, because then i wouldn't have that every Sunday. I reasoned that getting the body and blood of Jesus is better, and i could still have the hand-on-head thing during absolution.