Exploring Boston: At the Table...

A familiar table, a surprising day

He sees that the sun is hiding.

Gloomy clouds. Much rain.

Is it day? Is it night?

Under these clouds, his wife lies sick in bed, as she has been for several months, hoping, longing that she will one day return to the “land of the living.”

Sickness strikes his body regularly, too. Today is one of those good days, but he knows the other shoe will fall soon.

Weakness within, weakness around, as he gathers with those broken yet redeemed. He finds himself at a familiar table: the table of the Lord. Normally, the gloom would make its way from the sky into his heart, but this day, something was different…

It was Sunday, June 1727. The Puritan pastor, Thomas Boston, was in some very familiar circumstances which had lain heavy on his shoulders in the past, and his melancholy spirit would often be manifest. Up to this point, he’s buried most of his children, he’s pastored this small congregation in Scotland for many years, his health was deteriorating, and his wife remained bedridden.

At this gloomy Lord’s Day service, grasping the bread and the cup, he was no doubt reminded of how his wife, once again, hasn’t been able to join the people of God to feast upon the body and blood of the Savior.

But as he looked back at this particular day—toward the end of his life, penning his memoirs to his remaining children—he reflected on the goodness of his Master, who carried him like a child through the storm, both physically and spiritually:

Powerful were the prayers that they poured out for my aflicted wife; in whose case I turned quite hopeless some time ago, did myself much harm, and was almost sunk. At the table of the Lord, whithersoever I looked, I could see almost nothing, but sovereignty of a gracious God; when I looked to Christ, and when I looked to myself and relations, particularly to my wife's case. Sovereignty appeared in the person of Christ, the human nature being in him united to the divine nature; sovereignty appeared in the way of the Father's dealing with him, in his birth, life, and death; and thus I travelled betwixt the view of sovereignty with respect to Jesus Christ, and the view of it with respect to me and mine, backward and forward; believing my union with him (Memoirs, 357).

Did you notice the key ingredients of his disposition?

Things were bad. Really bad. Yet, God’s people poured out prayers for his wife. Notice his outlook: he normally would be hopeless. But God’s people prayed.

Though his weakness was in view, it served as the black backdrop to the dazzling diamond of the sweet sovereignty of Jesus.

Looking up, he saw the clouds.

Looking within, he saw his wife.

Looking down at the bread and cup, he saw his Savior.

The one who is very God of very God, two natures, one Person; the only theanthropic one.

In that moment, the sovereign Christ gave of Himself to a weary pastor. It was a familiar table, with ordinary elements, but over time, the consistent rehearsal of the gospel has worked in him grace he hadn’t had before, at least, not in that measure. It was a grace that nourished and sustained, just like the words of Christ which pierced through the storm and the screams of the disciples as they were in a boat: “Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid” (Matthew 14:27).

Two reflections from this short encounter:

First, the corporate gathering of the church ushers to you the presence of Christ in ways that your private quiet times cannot. Yes, we may experience the presence of Jesus anywhere—praise God! But He has guaranteed to meet us in a unique way when His people gather, pray, preach, and take up the bread and cup.

Second, the Lord’s Supper is more than a memory. Yes, we “do this in remembrance” of Him. But as we do, the Lord has promised to dine with us. He serves us as the host and the meal. We feast (spiritually, not physically) upon Christ and all of His saving benefits when we ingest those small elements. The bread and cup will preach a Word to you. Take them in faith, and you’ll proclaim the Lord’s death till He comes, and you will participate (koinonia) in the body and blood of Christ (1 Corinthians 10:16; 11:26). Though Boston’s circumstances did not change, he received something better: rich, sustaining fellowship with his Savior and Friend—and growing conformity to His image.

Let Christ carry you to the table, where you don’t belong. Be swept away by His love. When seated at His table, you’ll see your wholeness through the lens of His brokenness on your behalf.¹

Rehearse this. And over time, through any trial, you’ll be able to “Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel” (2 Timothy 2:8).

1. Check out the song Carried to the Table by Leeland