Intinction is the practice of dipping the bread into the wine. The history of the practice in the Christian Church and theological reception of that practice within the Protestant Church is fully discussed here:
Smith, in Desiring the Kingdom explains that the practice of the Eucharist forms the shape of the human being who partakes:
This intensity is suggested in the very words of institution of the Eucharist: “This is my body.”
Jesus didn’t look around the room or out the window and abstractly announce, “Behold, the goodness of all creation. Look, remember, believe. These are the gifts of God for the people of God.” Such a statement would be perfectly true; creation is just such a mediation of God’s presence. But in addition to that truth, we also need to note that Jesus takes up particular things from creation and endues them with a sense of special presence, an especially intense presence. In this way Jesus seems to establish particular hot spots of sacramentality within a good creation, while also ordaining particularly packed practices. This selective intensity suggests that the affirmation that all the world is a sacrament is not meant to thereby level “the sacraments.”
In the same way, the affirmation that all of life is worship— that all things can be done to the glory of God— should not level the particular intensity of worship as the “work of the people” that especially praises God and forms us in unique, particularly intense ways. If one temptation is to level the sacraments in the name of the sacramentality of the world, a second is the temptation to naturalize the liturgy as just an embodied practice like any other (another kind of leveling). 
Sometimes our emphasis on liturgy as a formative, embodied practice that shapes us runs the risk of construing this as a wholly natural or immanent process— as if the formation of disciples in Christian worship operates in much the same way as the formation of Manny Ramirez as an excellent hitter through bodily rituals of batting practice. While worship is entirely embodied, it is not only material; and though worship is wholly natural, it is never only natural. Christian worship is nothing less than an invitation to participate in the life of the triune God. In short, the centrality of embodiment should not be understood as a “naturalizing” of worship that would deny the dynamic presence of the Spirit; to the contrary, the Spirit meets, nourishes, transforms, and empowers us just through and in such material practices.
The church’s worship is a uniquely intense site of the Spirit’s transformative presence. We must never lose sight of the charged nature of these practices.  These are not just rituals that are unique because they are aimed at a different telos; they are also unique because they are practices that bring us face-to-face with the living God.
Smith, James K. A. (2009-08-01). Desiring the Kingdom (Cultural Liturgies): Worship, Worldview, and Cultural Formation (pp. 149-150). Baker Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
As we change the practice, we change its meaning — we change what happens in the heart. When we both remove the cup as a separate element, remove the words of institution, or partake on our own schedule, we fundamentally transform our goal and its effects. Is that wise?