I was raised Baptist—
grape juice in tiny cups,
cracker crumbs on a silver tray,
passed down the pew
every fifth Sunday.
We called it remembrance—
a way of honoring
what Jesus did long ago.
And I was grateful for it.
It shaped my love for Scripture
and my reverence for the Lord.
But when I became Catholic,
and knelt to receive
the Blessed Sacrament,
something in me knew—
deep knew—
that this was the Scripture
come alive.
Not symbol.
Not poetry.
Not a gesture toward heaven.
Because Christ’s words
never soften their edge.
The Gospel refuses
to be reduced to symbol.
“How can this man
give us His Flesh to eat?”
they asked.
And Jesus did not retreat.
He pressed in.
He doubled down.
“Amen, amen, I say to you…”
True Flesh.
True Blood.
True Food.
True Drink.
And when I received Him,
I knew—
this is the Bread
that came down from heaven.
This is the Life
that cannot be borrowed.
This is the Christ
who remains in me,
and I in Him.
What once was remembrance
became communion.
What once was symbol
became Presence.
What once was ritual
became the very heartbeat
of my faith.
He feeds us
with Himself.
And He raises us
even now.
This is the gift
that found me
when I stepped forward
and opened my hands
to the Living Christ.
True Food.
True Drink.
True Life.
And He raises us
even now.
Prayer
Lord Jesus,
You are the Bread come down from heaven.
Feed my heart with Your Presence.
Steady my steps with Your grace.
Remain in me as I remain in You.
Make my life a witness to Your love.
Raise me to new life each day.
Amen
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