Communion, Union, Abiding, and Covenant Identification — 10/1/26 (Part 5)

Speaker 1: I think the latin – sharing, participation, fellowship – actually strengthens “Coming into Union” It’s remembrance of the two becoming one. It’s a picture of abiding. It’s not just a sacrament.

Speaker 2: Yes. I think that actually makes your point stronger, provided we distinguish etymology from theology. You don’t need communion to literally break down linguistically into “come + union.” The biblical meaning of communion already gives you what you’re reaching for: participation, sharing, fellowship—oneness.

Paul’s language in 1 Corinthians 10:16–17 is especially strong:

“The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion [koinōnia] of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion [koinōnia] of the body of Christ?”

And then immediately:

“For we, though many, are one bread and one body…”

So communion isn’t merely remembering an event that happened to Someone else. It’s remembering and participating in the reality of what His finished work has brought us into.

That connects directly to Jesus’ language:

“Abide in Me, and I in you.”
“You in Me, and I in you.”
“That they all may be one, as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You.”

That’s much richer than communion reduced to eat this cracker and drink this juice so you remember that Jesus died.

The bread and cup become a visible proclamation of union.

His body given for me. His blood poured out for me. His life now in me. I in Him. He in me.

And that changes remembrance too. Jesus says, “Do this in remembrance of Me.” We can hear remembrance as merely recalling historical information:

Don’t forget Jesus died.

But communion can function more like re-membering ourselves to the reality of our participation in Him—not as an etymological definition of “remember,” but as a theological picture. I am bringing my mind, identity, and awareness back into agreement with the reality His death and resurrection established.

In that sense, communion becomes a picture of abiding.

Not:

Jesus over there; me over here, remembering Him.

But:

Christ in me and I in Christ, consciously returning my attention to the union that is already mine.

And then something else clicks with our conversation.

Jesus says in John 6:

“He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him.” — John 6:56

Whatever conclusions we make about all the sacramental questions surrounding John 6, Jesus Himself connects eating/drinking imagery with abiding: “abides in Me, and I in him.”

That’s remarkably close to what you’re saying.

And there’s another layer:

Communion confronts separation.

If the stranger’s voice continually says:

You’re distant.

You’re unworthy.

God has withdrawn.

You failed again.

You need to get yourself right before you can approach Him.

Then the table says something radically different:

This is My body—for you.

This is My blood—for you.

Take. Eat. Drink. Participate.

Not stand at a distance until you’re worthy.

In fact, the very thing I could mistakenly think disqualifies me from coming—the recognition of my dependence upon Christ—is precisely why I come.

So I think your phrase has real power as a theological description, even if we don’t present it as the literal derivation of the English word:

Communion: coming into the awareness of our union with Him.

Or stronger:

Communion is remembrance of union—the visible picture of abiding: He in us, and we in Him.

And perhaps strongest in the context of everything we’ve been developing:

Communion isn’t merely remembering that He died. It’s remembering what His death accomplished: separation ended, the veil torn, humanity reconciled, and an invitation into participation in His very life.

That belongs squarely in the Faith Co material.

Speaker 1: It’s identification in the covenant.

Speaker 2: Yes. Identification may actually be the word that completes the thought.

Communion isn’t merely remembrance of the covenant as an outside observer. It’s identification in the covenant—recognizing that what happened to Christ has covenant implications for those who are in Him.

Paul’s language gets remarkably strong here:

“The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ?” — 1 Corinthians 10:16

Not merely remembrance of His blood. Communion—participation—in His blood.

Then consider the identification language scattered throughout Paul:

“I have been crucified with Christ.” — Galatians 2:20

“We were buried with Him through baptism into death.” — Romans 6:4

“If we died with Christ…” — Romans 6:8

“God… made us alive together with Christ… and raised us up together.” — Ephesians 2:5–6

That’s covenant identification:

He died → I died with Him.
He was buried → I was buried with Him.
He was raised → I was raised with Him.
His righteousness → I am made righteous in Him.
His life → Christ lives in me.

So at the communion table, I’m not merely remembering what happened to Jesus.

I’m remembering what happened to me in Jesus.

That is a substantial distinction.

And it fits beautifully with Jesus’ words at the Last Supper:

“This cup is the new covenant in My blood…” — Luke 22:20

So you’ve got all three ideas converging:

Covenant. Participation. Identification.

And then John gives us the union/abiding dimension:

“He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him.” — John 6:56

So perhaps the fuller formulation is:

Communion is covenant identification—a remembrance and participation in our union with Christ. We aren’t merely remembering that His body was broken and His blood was shed; we’re remembering what His body and blood accomplished for us and who we have become in Him.

That also makes communion directly relevant to the identity/confession discussion we’ve been having.

When accusation says:

“Look at what you’ve done.”

Communion answers:

“Look at what He has done.”

When condemnation says:

“You’re unworthy.”

The blood says:

“You have been brought near.”

When the stranger says:

“You’re still that old person.”

The broken body says:

“You died with Him.”

When circumstances say:

“You’re separated from God.”

The table declares:

“New covenant. Participation. Union.”

That makes communion almost a physical confession. You aren’t only saying what you believe with your mouth. You’re taking the bread and cup into yourself as a tangible identification with the covenant reality:

His death is my death.
His life is my life.
His covenant is my covenant.
His righteousness is my righteousness.
I am in Him, and He is in me.

And that brings us right back to abiding. Communion isn’t a periodic religious interruption to the Christian life.

It’s a picture of what the Christian life is.