Palm Springs Drive Church of Christ

Series: The Parables of Jesus

Service: Wed Bible Study

Type: Bible Class

Speaker: Brian Messerli

Series: The Parables of Jesus

Service: Sun Bible Study

Type: Bible Class

Speaker: Brian Messerli

Series: N/A

Service: Praise and Preaching Service

Type: Sermon

Speaker: Dwayne Gandy

(Based on the full sermon delivered August 31, 2025)

When we assemble on the first day of the week and share the Lord’s Supper, we are participating in one of the most meaningful and defining practices in the Christian life. The Lord’s Supper is not merely a ritual habit, a line item in a worship bulletin, or an activity performed because it has always been done a certain way. It is a God-given memorial, established by Jesus Himself, intended to shape our hearts, sharpen our focus, and solidify our covenant relationship with Him.

This practice becomes even richer, more unifying, and more spiritually powerful when we clearly distinguish what Scripture actually teaches from traditions we have developed over time. Some things about the Lord’s Supper are specific commands, and they are unchangeable. Other things are general matters, in which God gives us freedom to use wisdom, stewardship, logistics, and cultural sensibilities. Understanding that balance helps us obey God confidently without confusing human preferences with divine instruction.

Before exploring the history, traditions, and biblical patterns surrounding the Lord’s Supper, we must start where Jesus started—with purpose. If we forget why, then eventually we forget who, and if we forget who, then nothing else matters. The Lord’s Supper is about remembering Jesus, and if our mind is anywhere else, even if every procedural detail is correct, we have missed the heartbeat of the memorial.

The first Lord’s Supper did not take place in silence inside a 21st-century church building. It occurred within the context of the Jewish Passover meal. Jesus and His disciples were gathered in an upper room, celebrating God’s deliverance of Israel from Egypt. Passover itself was a remembrance of how God rescued His people from bondage and led them into covenant relationship.

Matthew 26 tells us that Jesus and His disciples prepared the Passover and reclined at the table to eat (Matthew 26:19–20). As they ate, Jesus instituted something new—something Israel had never celebrated before. He took unleavened bread and fruit of the vine, sanctified them, and told His followers to partake in remembrance of Him, not simply in remembrance of Exodus.

Why unleavened bread? Not because there is a command in the New Testament that says, “Thou shalt use unleavened bread.” The reason is found in the Passover context. Jesus was celebrating a meal made with unleavened bread, and that bread beautifully symbolizes His purity. The absence of leaven reflects the absence of sin, corruption, or decay. Although Scripture does not command, “Use unleavened bread when you remember Me,” the symbolic logic is consistent and spiritually fitting, which is why faithful Christians continue to use it.

The meaning of the meal is even clearer when we recognize Jesus as the Lamb of God. John the Baptist exclaimed, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). Paul later refers to Jesus as our Passover Lamb (1 Corinthians 5:7). This is critical because it connects the old covenant deliverance from Egypt to the new covenant deliverance from sin. The blood of the Passover lamb in Exodus provided protection and covenant identity for Israel. The blood of Jesus cleanses us from sin and brings us into covenant identity with God.

Therefore, when we share the Lord’s Supper, we are not merely remembering a historical event. We are remembering a Person. We are remembering Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, the sacrifice who secured forgiveness, hope, and covenant relationship for every believer.

If we ever forget why we take the Lord’s Supper, we eventually forget who the Lord’s Supper is about. When we forget who, everything else collapses. The purpose of this memorial is not procedural accuracy but spiritual memory—remembering the Person who died for us, cleansed us, and united us with God.

In Luke 22:19–20, Jesus establishes the memorial:

“He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is My body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of Me.’ Likewise, He also took the cup after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in My blood, which is shed for you.’”

Every word matters. Jesus does not ask us to remember the Exodus, the plagues, or even the symbolism of ancient Israel. He says, remember Me. Remember My body. Remember My sacrifice. Remember My blood. Remember My covenant.

The bread represents His body, torn, beaten, and abused during crucifixion. The New Testament notes that no bone was broken, fulfilling prophecy, but His physical body was unquestionably crushed and mutilated. The cup represents His blood—the blood that sealed a covenant with God and removed sin. His blood is not merely a symbol, it is the actual means of redemption.

More than a backward-looking remembrance, the Lord’s Supper also points forward. Paul writes:

“For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes.” (1 Corinthians 11:26)

We proclaim something past—Jesus died—and something future—Jesus is coming again. The memorial is both remembrance and anticipation. Every Sunday we are reminding ourselves not only of what has been done for us but of what is promised for us. Jesus is returning. Every observance of the memorial affirms our faith and longing.

We partake every Sunday, not every day. However, the discipline of a weekly remembrance provides daily benefit. When we seriously reflect on the humiliation, sacrifice, obedience, and love of Jesus, it shapes the way we make decisions Monday through Saturday.

If Christ humbled Himself, then when we face humiliation in our week, we have perspective. When we must sacrifice something for holiness, purity, or righteousness, remembering Christ’s ultimate sacrifice makes our sacrifice reasonable. When temptations call us to sin, remembering that our covenant was sealed in the blood of the Lamb reminds us that sin is incompatible with covenant life.

This memorial is not a weekly spiritual chore. It is a weekly identity check that helps us live every day as the covenant people of God.

Paul spends considerable time correcting the Corinthians in 1 Corinthians 11 because their observance of the Lord’s Supper had become divisive, self-centered, and harmful. Instead of uniting believers around the sacrifice of Christ, they were using the memorial as a moment for hierarchy, comparison, and selfish indulgence.

Some were eating a common meal and confusing it with the sacred memorial, while others were humiliating brethren who lacked resources. Paul sharply rebuked the practice, reminding them that the Lord’s Supper is intended to unite, not divide. Whenever our method of observing the Supper causes division, self-focus, comparison, or humiliation, we must pause and reevaluate. Anything that distracts from remembering Jesus misses the point.

Paul also warns that believers should examine themselves before participating. This does not mean that a believer must be morally flawless to partake. Rather, a believer should not willfully choose to live in sin and then treat the Lord’s Supper as a magical cleansing ritual while refusing repentance. The blood we remember in communion is for those who reject sin, not those who insist on persisting in it.

God’s grace abounds to the weak, to the repentant, and to the struggling, but not to the unrepentant. A covenant memorial calls covenant people to covenant living.

Acts 20:7 gives the authoritative pattern:

“On the first day of the week, when the disciples came together to break bread…”

This is the only authorized day for the Lord’s Supper. We see Christians assembling on the first day of the week—Sunday—to remember Jesus. Tradition and history also confirm this practice. Therefore, Christians do not observe the memorial on Tuesday, Thursday, or any other day. We partake when God authorized us to partake—on the first day of the week.

The timing within the worship service, however, is not specified by Scripture. We may partake in the morning, in the evening, before preaching, after preaching, between classes, or during a separate period of worship. The central requirement is that we partake on the first day of the week and that we partake as a gathered body, remembering Jesus with reverence.

For the first two centuries of Christianity, the meal was commonly associated with an evening assembly, which explains why the term “supper” was naturally used. Later, assemblies transitioned to mornings for practical reasons. Neither setting is a matter of binding authority.

Understanding the difference between divine instruction and flexible tradition protects us spiritually. Jesus warned against equating man-made customs with commandments of God. We must never teach that something God has not commanded is essential or binding.

For example, Scripture does not specify:

• Whether trays must be passed down aisles.

• Whether individual cups must be used or a shared cup.

• Whether unleavened bread should be crumb-sized or wafer-sized.

• Whether the memorial should occur before or after preaching.

• Whether a scripture should be read aloud during the serving.

History shows that individual cups and standardized wafers did not become common until the late 1800s and early 1900s. Before that, Christians took the memorial in various ways, including connected to common meals.

COVID also forced churches to reexamine methods. Some congregations temporarily used sealed cup-and-wafer kits. Others modified seating, tray passing, or flow of assembly. The essential elements were preserved: remembering Jesus, using the biblical emblems, and meeting on the first day of the week. Beyond that, God gives freedom.

The danger is assuming our personal method is universally mandated. If children grow up believing that trays, silence, wafer size, or assembly order are commanded in Scripture, then when they eventually study, confusion arises. They may not see those details in the Bible and either begin doubting Scripture or begin mistrusting their church. The better approach is clarity: some things are commanded; others are wisely chosen.

The elders at Palm Springs Drive wisely separated the offering from the communion period so children would not assume giving was part of the memorial. That is exactly the kind of clarity that protects the next generation.

Whenever a congregation evaluates its methods, one question should guide them:

Which approach best helps us remember Jesus?

Silence may do that. A scripture reading may do that. A devotional talk may do that. A moment of focused meditation may do that. As long as the biblical purpose is honored, the biblical emblems are used, and the biblical timing is followed, congregational format may vary.

Your current arrangement at PSD—an early worship period entirely devoted to remembering Jesus—is a beautiful illustration of this principle. The deliberate separation and pacing allow worshippers to reflect deeply. The approach emphasizes sacred purpose rather than habit. It has helped the church focus more intently on Christ and appreciate the memorial with renewed clarity.

That is precisely what God intends. The method serves the purpose. And the purpose is remembering the sacrifice, person, covenant, resurrection, and return of Jesus Christ.

At the end of the sermon, a powerful question was asked: Are you in covenant relationship with Jesus? The Lord’s Supper is not for unbelievers, nor for believers who willingly choose to remain in sin without repentance. Anyone who has sinned can be forgiven today through the blood of Jesus. There is no reason to leave an assembly weighed down by guilt. The covenant memorial reminds us that grace is real, repentance is possible, and cleansing is guaranteed.

When believers share the Lord’s Supper, we proclaim hope, identity, unity, and covenant life. It is a sacred reminder that Jesus is our Passover Lamb and that we belong to Him forever.

The Lord’s Supper is not a checklist item. It is a spiritual anchor. It calls us to remember Jesus—the One who lived sinlessly, died sacrificially, rose triumphantly, reigns presently, and will return victoriously. Every first day of the week, Christians gather to proclaim His death until He comes.

Faithful observance requires clarity:

• We must know what God specifically commanded: the emblems, the purpose, and the day.

• We must distinguish what God left general: the logistical method, the service order, and the cultural format.

When believers understand both, they can observe the Lord’s Supper faithfully, joyfully, peacefully, and confidently. More importantly, they can allow the weekly remembrance of Jesus to shape their daily behavior, strengthen their hope, and unite their congregation.

When we remember why, we remember who. When we remember who, the Lord’s Supper becomes one of the greatest blessings of Christian life.

Series: N/A

Service: Lord’s Supper Service

Type: Lord's Supper Talk

Speaker: Brian Messerli

Series: N/A

Service: Song Service

Type: Invitation

Speaker: Noah Hinely

Series: The Parables of Jesus

Service: Sun Bible Study

Type: Bible Class

Speaker: Herb Hinely

Series: N/A

Service: Praise and Preaching Service

Type: Sermon

Speaker: Brian Messerli

Series: N/A

Service: Lord’s Supper Service

Type: Lord's Supper Talk

Speaker: Dwayne Gandy

In Luke 10:21 we find a moment unlike any other in the Gospels: “In that same hour Jesus rejoiced in the Spirit.”

Let that settle for a moment. Of all the emotions Jesus displayed on earth—compassion, sorrow, righteous anger, anguish—this is the only time Scripture explicitly says He rejoiced. That fact alone invites us to slow down and ask, What was happening right then and there that caused Jesus to rejoice in the Spirit?

To appreciate the weight of that moment, we have to look at what led up to it.

Back in Luke 9, Jesus had sent His twelve apostles out two by two. He gave them power over sickness and demons, and they went from village to village announcing that the kingdom of God was near. They performed miracles—healing the sick, raising the dead, casting out demons. But when they returned, their excitement was cut short. Jesus learned that Herod had killed John the Baptist. They tried to retreat to a quiet place to grieve and rest, but the crowds followed. Moved with compassion, Jesus fed the 5,000.

Now, in Luke 10, Jesus sends out a larger group—seventy (or seventy-two) disciples—to prepare the way for Him in the towns He planned to visit next. He gives them authority similar to the apostles’: to heal the sick and cast out demons. When they return, they are thrilled. “Lord,” they exclaim, “even the demons are subject to us in Your name!” (v. 17).

It’s in the middle of that celebration that we read: “In that hour Jesus rejoiced in the Spirit.”

Most of the emotions recorded about Jesus are responses to painful or tragic circumstances. Isaiah 53 calls Him “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” The Gospels show Him weeping over Jerusalem, groaning at death’s cruelty, angered at hypocrisy, and burdened by rejection—even from His own family and from Israel itself.

But here, amid all that heaviness, comes a rare glimpse of joy. Jesus rejoiced. Something about this moment made His heart swell with divine delight. And Luke gives us the reason.

When the disciples returned bubbling with excitement, Jesus smiled and said something remarkable:

“I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven.” (v. 18)

What a statement! Jesus wasn’t merely talking about an event in the distant past. He was describing what He was witnessing unfold through His followers. The power of Satan was collapsing before their eyes. The strong man was being bound. The kingdom of darkness was being forced back by ordinary men empowered through the name of Jesus.

Up to this point, Jesus had personally been the one casting out demons. We’ve seen those encounters throughout the Gospels. In Mark 1, a demon inside a man in the synagogue cried out, “I know who You are—the Holy One of God!” In Mark 5, a legion of demons begged Jesus not to torment them. Each confrontation ended the same way: Jesus spoke, and they fled.

But this time was different. This wasn’t Jesus going toe-to-toe with Satan. This was His disciples—frail, flawed, still learning—successfully commanding demons in Jesus’ name. It was the first sign that the victory was expanding. The power of Christ was now operating through His people.

Jesus saw in their success a preview of what was coming: Satan’s ultimate defeat at the cross. So He tells them, “I’ve given you authority to trample serpents and scorpions and over all the power of the enemy.” (v. 19) And then He gently redirects their excitement: “Nevertheless do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” (v. 20)

Their victories over demons were only a signpost pointing to the greater victory that was already secured—eternal salvation.

That’s the moment Jesus rejoiced in the Spirit. The enemy’s collapse was visible. The mission was working. God’s plan was unfolding exactly as it should.

If you trace the disciples’ journey, you’ll notice a pattern: moments that looked like breakthroughs but ended in disappointment.

Peter walked on water—then sank in fear. The apostles were told to feed the 5,000—they panicked instead. Jesus warned them about the “leaven of the Pharisees,” and they thought He was talking about forgetting bread. Time and again, Jesus had to correct, teach, and redirect. You can almost sense Him thinking, They’re close. They’re almost there.

But now, something is different. The seventy return not just amazed by what they could do, but by whose power made it possible. “Even the demons are subject to us in Your name.”

Finally, the light bulb turns on. They recognize that all power flows from Christ. What once baffled them is now clear: their mission succeeds only through Him.

Teachers know this feeling. You labor, explain, and re-explain—and then one day the student’s eyes light up. They get it. For a brief moment, all the effort feels worthwhile. That’s what Jesus is experiencing here. His disciples are growing. They’re maturing. They’re moving from spectators to participants in God’s kingdom work.

For Jesus, who had endured constant misunderstanding and opposition, this moment was refreshing. At last, His followers were starting to understand who He was and what His kingdom was about. No wonder He rejoiced.

After Luke tells us that Jesus rejoiced, he records the prayer that burst from His heart:

“I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to babes. Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Your sight.” (v. 21)

Here we see Jesus praising His Father not for displays of power, but for the beauty of the plan itself. God was revealing His truth not to the powerful or the elite, but to humble, ordinary people—the “babes” of the world. The fishermen, the tax collectors, the women who traveled with Him—these were the ones receiving divine revelation.

Jesus continues:

“All things have been delivered to Me by My Father, and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, and who the Father is except the Son, and the one to whom the Son wills to reveal Him.” (v. 22)

That’s the heart of the plan. The Father and Son share an intimate relationship, and the Son is now extending that relationship to His followers. For centuries, prophets and kings longed to see this day, but it had not yet come. Jesus tells His disciples privately, “Blessed are the eyes which see the things you see… for many prophets and kings desired to see what you see, and have not seen it.” (vv. 23-24)

This was the unfolding of redemption history—the very thing heaven had been waiting for. The disciples’ success wasn’t an accident; it was confirmation that the Father’s design was right on schedule. The kingdom of God was breaking into the world.

So Jesus rejoices. He thanks His Father that the plan is working, that the right people have been chosen, that the right time has come. The relationship between the Father and the Son is unbroken, and now that same relationship is being extended to the disciples. Everything is moving toward the cross, where the victory will be complete.

When we take the bread and the cup, we are participating in that same victory. Luke 10 gives us a glimpse of joy along the way, but the full triumph comes at Calvary and the empty tomb.

Jesus rejoiced because Satan’s downfall was certain. That certainty was sealed when He declared, “It is finished.” Sin and death were conquered once and for all.

When we gather around the Lord’s table, we celebrate that total victory. We rejoice that our names, too, are written in heaven. And I can’t help but believe that Jesus still rejoices when He sees His people gathered faithfully to remember Him.

Every Sunday when we come together, He looks upon His followers—different ages, backgrounds, and stories—and smiles. “There they are again,” He might say. “They came back. They still believe. They still remember.” Week after week, year after year, decade after decade, His people come to the table. That faithfulness brings joy to the heart of our Lord.

The scene in Luke 10 is not just a historical note; it’s an invitation. The same Spirit that filled Jesus with joy fills His people today. We, too, can rejoice in the Spirit when we see the gospel taking root, when Satan’s grip weakens, when the light dawns in someone’s understanding, when a soul is set free.

Every baptism, every act of repentance, every renewed heart is another flash of lightning in which we see Satan fall again. Each victory of faith—however small—echoes that moment in Luke 10 when Jesus rejoiced.

And just as Jesus told His disciples not to rejoice merely in power or success, but that their names are written in heaven, our deepest joy must be anchored in the same truth. Circumstances may rise and fall, but the heavenly record stands firm. The greatest miracle is not that demons flee, but that sinners are forgiven.

Luke 10 offers a rare glimpse of Jesus’ emotional life—a moment of pure delight breaking through the sorrow of His earthly mission. It reminds us that joy was never absent from Jesus; it was simply overshadowed by the weight of His purpose. Even the “man of sorrows” found reasons to rejoice because He could see the end from the middle.

That’s our calling too. We rejoice not because every battle is easy, but because the outcome is certain. Satan has fallen. The kingdom has come. Our names are written in heaven.

And just as Jesus rejoiced when His followers returned from their mission, He will rejoice again when we finish ours—when the redeemed are gathered home, when faith becomes sight, and when every knee bows before the One who conquered sin and death.

Until that day, we keep returning to the table. We keep remembering. And we keep helping Jesus rejoice.

Series: N/A

Service: Wed Bible Study

Type: Invitation

Speaker: Luke Hinely

Series: The Parables of Jesus

Service: Wed Bible Study

Type: Bible Class

Speaker: Connor McClenny