In Luke 22:20, Christ identifies the cup as the New Covenant. The wine—as blood—symbolizes life, and together they declare the New Covenant of life. In re-Genesis language, this cup represents the Tree of Life. To live forever, we must drink from this cup—we must partake of this tree. In re-Genesis there is always a separation: to recreate, the Son had to have His life separated from Him on a tree—the cross. The emblem of shame, the chaos and void of the cross, becomes our Tree of Life.
Sometimes the Lord’s Supper is treated as something we do to obtain the grace of God. The “means of grace” become channels that, if only performed correctly, will deliver what we seek. We prepare, we examine, we complete the requisite measures so that grace will be given.
But if we are not careful, a blessing of grace can become a performance of merit—a sacrament turned into a self-help exercise. Yes, we should prepare and examine ourselves, but not in order to get grace, but rather, in order to receive it. The performance is God’s, not ours.
We come to His table and not to a judge’s chamber or a court trial but as guests at a feast. When preparation eclipses promise, we lose the music of the Supper. What should sound like a celebration begins to sound like an inquisition.
Have I prepared well enough? Have I truly examined myself so as to receive God’s blessing? If we look within for comfort, we will always find a dissonant note instead of the lyre of the sweet psalmist of Israel. The human heart cannot conduct the music of grace, but God earnestly desires us to receive His love in the supper. It is His performance not ours.
What we need is not deeper self-inspection but a new orientation — to see the Supper for what it actually is, not what it has been turned into. The Lord’s Table is not a stage for our performance but a re-creative act of God. Here, the same voice that once said “Let there be light” speaks again: “Take, eat.” The meal is not our offering to Him but His new creation in us.
To begin to reorient ourselves to the supper we need to look back to the book of Genesis 1:1-5
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.
And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.
Creation is Ex Nihilo, Fiat Dei
The “Let there be light” is a performative creative act. It is not a statement or a description; it is God performing an act of fiat. His words are an active power and causative. Creation does not perform anything; it simply is brought into existence. The word “let” becomes “is.” A word creates being!
Creation is effected Ex nihilo, fiat Dei, that is, out of nothing by God’s power.
Covenant Union is Effected by faith that is Created by God’s Power
When God gave Adam the creation mandate—“Be fruitful and multiply, and do not eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil”—this was a covenantal performative act. It established a covenant relationship between God and man. Adam stood in covenantal union with God.
All covenants between God and man are unilateral, never contractual. God is the giver; man is the receiver. God can receive nothing from us without violating the Creator-creature distinction. As actus purus—pure act—He cannot change or be enriched by anything outside Himself.
To be in covenant is to hear the words of the covenant, to trust the Speaker, and to live out that trust as obedience. It is a covenantal union, not an ontological one. In Eden, this union was created by God and received by the creature through faith. Faith is not the cause but the bond of this union—the living trust by which the creature cleaves to his Maker. It is receptive, not performative.
It is a filial covenant—between a Father and a son—not a contract, nor even an Ancient Near Eastern Suzerain treaty. Adam was not a vassal; he was a son of God by covenant. Faith is the bond of this union but not its source.
God alone makes the union effective. The word spoken is received by the hearer, and by God’s own fiat faith is created and the bond effected. Faith is given by God so that the hearer may receive His goodness. All is reception within a unilateral covenant. Faith is simply the predicate of God’s creative word. Faith is exercised by the recipient, but the faith comes from the creative power of God.
It is the echo of “Let there be light”—and there was light. Thus, the divine creation of the cosmos mirrors the divine creation of covenant union.
Covenant union is effected by God and received by the creature. It is Ex fide, fiat Dei.
The Supper as Re-Creation
The Lord’s Supper follows the same Genesis pattern. When the Creator of the universe says, “Take, eat,” this is a covenantal performative act that renews creation itself. How do these words take root in our lives? Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word of God. Hearing is not performance but reception—believe, and you will be saved.
If creation was acoustic, then re-creation must be acoustic as well. Faith is not transmitted by substance or ontology; it is acquired by hearing. The Supper is therefore a double Word—both heard and seen, acoustic and visible.
The Supper thus becomes a covenant-renewal, deepening the trust that binds us to our Lord, that we may ever taste more fully the goodness He sets before us in the Gospel. God Himself establishes the bond; faith is the open hand that receives His gift.
With this lens, the re-Genesis pattern in the Supper can be traced anew. The account in Matthew will illustrate these parallels. Matthew 26:26-30
Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom. And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
Jesus Took Bread
When Jesus took the bread, it signified His taking on human flesh in the Incarnation. He took our fallen humanity in order to re-create it. After the Fall, our humanity was in chaos and disorder—corresponding analogically to the tohu va-bohu, the formless and void state that existed after God created the heavens and the earth.
Out of that chaos, God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. In the same way, out of the chaos of sin, Christ brings the light of the new creation. This is why He is called the Light of the world—the light that shines in the darkness and orders it once again.
It is important to note that creation-chaos is not the same as moral chaos, but they share a common denominator: both mark a transition from one state to another. Creation-chaos moves from disorder to order; moral chaos moves from order back to disorder. The latter is a process of de-creation—Genesis in reverse.
As Augustine observed, sin is disordered love. To disorder love is tantamount to cosmic treason against the God of all order. The Ten Commandments, then, are laws against tohu va-bohu—against uncreation itself. Every violation strikes at God’s holiness and opposes all that is good which makes it an evil, moral chaos.
And After Blessing It
When He blessed the bread, it was not simply a “thank you,” as we often assume—as though He were merely offering a prayer of thanks for the bread. The word in Greek is eulogēsen, from eulogeō—“to speak a good word.”
This corresponds to the divine pronouncement in Genesis after each creative act—“and God saw that it was good.” It is a verdict spoken over the completion of a creative act.
Creation itself is a Trinitarian action: the Father creates through the Son and by the Holy Spirit. When Jesus, the incarnate Son, blessed the bread, He was declaring that the human body He had assumed was good—a verdict upon the creative work of the Trinity.
You can see this echoed in Hebrews 10:5:
“Consequently, when Christ came into the world, He said,
‘Sacrifices and offerings You have not desired,
but a body You have prepared for Me.’”
Christ is pronouncing a verdict of goodness upon the body prepared for Him. The Supper, as a sacrament, re-enacts and renews this truth: the same divine Word who once declared creation good now blesses and redeems the creation He assumed.
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