Don't we need to be in an active relationship with God first?
Mysty, may I answer this with a rather long story from my own life experience, and then ask you to tell me how you would answer your own question if I had asked it of you?
My story:
At the age of 16, in the summer between my Junior and Senior years of high school, I was attending a camp that I had attended the last several years. Because I was going to be a senior I was among the oldest youth there with the most knowledge of past camps and pretty much everyone at the camp already knew me. This sort of gave me a position of acceptance where, at least in my own mind, everyone there looked up to me.
But while I might have had some importance to this relationship I had with people, one thing that I did not have that some of the others did was a real relationship with Jesus. Who Jesus was to me was primarily a historical figure that was of some significance to the church, but not really a part of my life. I had been raised in the church, but for me my relationship to the church and everyone in it was primarily a social relationship. I went through all the expected motions without rebelling. But as for Jesus being real to me, he was about a real as George Washington. In other words I knew about him, but I didn't know him like one knows a person with whom one is in a living relationship.
Then, one day at the camp, during some free time when all of use youth were just hanging out together, one of the other youth -- a really cute girl that I was already friends with and sort of wanted to become better friends with -- made a suggestion. She suggested that we celebrate a "love feast".
Now, not everyone knows what a "love feast" is anymore, but basically think of it as being like Holy Communion, but it isn't an actual sacrament so we didn't need a clergy person to administer it and it isn't so important what the elements actually are. In our case we didn't have any of the regular stuff like bread and wine or even grape juice. All that we had were butterscotch drops and orange aid.
Now remember, like you have asked about, I really didn't have an active relationship God. All I had was head knowledge, and little of anything else. The other thing I had was a rather strong dislike for butterscotch. OK, "dislike" isn't really the right term, more like "disgust". In fact, perhaps that isn't even strong enough. How about revulsion?
Anyway, my friend who came up with the idea that we needed to do this love feast didn't tell me that it involved butterscotch at first. It was just an idea for something that we could do that was sort of churchy, and of course that is what camp was all about. So, sure, as one who had been around the block a couple of times I could go through with this. But, the question was what were we going to use for this pseudo-communion that we called a "love feast?" And that is when one of the other kids volunteered that they had a bag of butterscotch drops that we could use in place of the bread.
I about left. In fact, I would have left accept for two things. I couldn't leave without it being noticed. And I didn't want to leave and have to explain my leaving later to Sonja.
So, I stayed, though I wasn't so sure about what to with the butterscotch yet. I guessed I could cross the bridge when I came to it. There was a trash can just a couple of feet from me, and I figured that provided a way out if I needed it.
So, Sonja passed the bag of butterscotch drops around the room, and when it came to me I dutifully took one. And for reasons I don't fully know why even today (though I do suspect that nearby trash can is the most likely explanation) I unwrapped it and was preparing to put it into my mouth when Sonja spoke the most horrible words anyone has ever uttered. She said, "when you get the butterscotch don't just bite into it and chew it."
Uh, don't worry, Sonja, the idea never crossed my mind. I'm just going through the motions, and then as fast as I put it in my mouth I intend to spit it right back out. This is, after all, a "love feast" and not an official communion, so I don't have to conform to anyone else's expectations.
"Don't just bite into it and chew it," Sonja continued, "but let it slowly dissolve in your mouth, and while it does think about Jesus' death on the cross the whole time."
Well, this was more than I had bargained for. I looked for a way escape, but there was none. Oh, I could just get up and leave, no one would have stopped me, but there was no gracious way to just slip out. And suddenly the trash can looked like it had move all the way across the room. I really had no idea what to do or how to get out of it. So, I just put the butterscotch in my mouth like I had been instructed.
It was horrible!!
It was every bit as bad as I had anticipated. It was bitter and sour -- absolutely disgusting. There was no way to redeem the moment. Now what?
I didn't know what else to do, so I did what Sonja had suggested; I thought about Jesus on the cross.
I didn't think about any of the theology of the cross or theories of atonement. I just thought about the plain simple reality of what death on a cross entailed. The physical pain and suffering. The nails in the hands and feet. The crown of thorns forced down on his brow. The splinters digging into his back. I remembered that I had been taught that this is what Jesus came to do. And I wondered why anyone would ever go through something like that on purpose?
Then finally it hit me. What I had learned in Sunday school all those years before. Jesus did it for me. And suddenly it struck me even more that if I had been the only one in the world for whom Jesus had needed to go to the cross so that I could have my sins forgiven, he would have. And I figured that if Jesus could die for me, that the least I could do was live for him.
And suddenly, like John Wesley before me, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt that Jesus was real, not just as a figure in history, but as a friend -- a person who I could live my life for and with. I was ready for him to be Lord of my life.
And the moment I said that to myself, the butterscotch that had been so sour, suddenly became sweet. And butterscotch remains something I still like till this day. And, of course, I'm still doing my best to live for Jesus as well.
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So, that's my story, Mysty. Now, you tell me. Before participating in that "communion"/"love feast", did I need to be in an active relationship with God first?