Today, Maundy Thursday, we receive the feast of Christ’s true body and blood for us, for the forgiveness of our sins. All of them.

How fitting that we have our feet washed by the very God from whom we once ran in terror and shame.

On this Maundy Thursday, in particular, let the “for you” of Christ’s gifts dominate.

So let’s go to dark Gethsemane. For there we see that even in his greatest moment of weakness, Jesus is our only source of strength. He drinks the cup of wrath so we can drink the cup of grace.

This is how the God of Abraham has become our God, too. This is how God has fulfilled His promise to Abraham and His promise to us: by breaking open His own body and shedding His own blood.

In the upper room, Jesus revealed himself as the Lord of the dirty business of life.

Luther sees in the Lord’s Supper the most concentrated form of the Gospel[5] because in it the death of Christ is proclaimed and the benefits of that saving death are bestowed in His body and blood given us to eat and drink.

This text is chosen for Maundy Thursday and involves eating and drinking with God—in His presence, real presence. This is only possible with the shedding of blood.

Maundy Thursday is only the beginning of the long, grievous road Jesus must take before “it is finished” three days later.

As preachers approach Holy Week, it is sometimes difficult to plan ahead. With a number of sermons to prepare, it can sometimes feel like you’re just trying to keep your head above water, say whatever the given text says for that service, and move on preparing the next.

The disciples and Christ have just finished their last meal together. The disciples, of course, didn't know this, but Jesus did.

There is something about high art forms that touches the soul.