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Well I had a student once that made me lose it. I was lecturing on the Lord’s Supper, and his question was not so much a question as an expression of unbridled cynicism. He put his hand up, and I acknowledged him. He said, “What’s the big deal about bread and wine? Why do we have to do that? Why can’t we just have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Coca-Cola?” That’s when I lost it. I just felt this rage just flowing up out of my soul. He grated my sensitivity when he said that, and instead of giving a polite, genteel, professorial response to him, I said, “You want to know why we don’t have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and coca-cola at Holy Communion? Because Jesus never consecrated peanut butter and jelly or Coca-Cola.” I just wanted to kill him. Why? Because he had just profaned with his question something that was precious and holy in my experience.
But what is it that makes the bread and the wine so special? What is it that makes any moment in history so special? What is it that makes a piece of real estate holy ground? Why is it that Noah marked the spot where he landed and built an altar? And Abraham built an altar to God. Why is it that we are drawn to take something that is common and make it extraordinary because of its significance? It’s not because of the intrinsic value of these objects. But what makes something sacred, what makes something holy is the touch of God upon it. When the one who Himself is other and different touches that which is ordinary, it becomes extraordinary.
Learn more in R.C. Sproul's free ebook What Is the Lord's Supper?