March 28

And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, "This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me." —Luke 22:19 (NIV)

Shortly after I moved into "The Leaning Log," the cabin I was renovating, I visited the Sunday-morning service at a nearby church. The sermon was titled "Gratitude: the Heart's Memory," and the minister reminisced about his walk with the Lord—his conversion, the cool waters of his baptism, people who had believed in him and how God was with him when he entered the ministry and was still unsure that God could use such an ordinary man to do His work.

That last part really got to me because I was certain I could no longer be of any use to God. I was recovering from an injury, and there didn't seem to be any prospect of my returning to work. Add to that the daily pain of my chronic illness, and I had a prescription for failure.

When I made my way down to the front of the sanctuary to participate in Communion, the pastor handed me the cup and bread symbolizing Christ's blood and broken body, and simply said, "Remember." Back in my pew, that single word consumed me, and I began thinking about some of the things that had happened in my life: the fall that could easily have broken my neck had I not landed on a thick pile of carpeting and foam padding; the countless spiritual falls into sin and selfishness—Christ had been there, too, offering forgiveness and endless new beginnings; and how Christ had always been with me during my years of chronic pain. Surely He wasn't finished with me yet; surely He still had a plan for me.

Do this in remembrance of me. I lifted my cup and whispered a hundred thank-yous.

Savior, on this day and always, help me to remember all You've done for me.

—Roberta Messner