24So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. 25When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” 26Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. 27Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.”

28Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” 29Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” 30So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? 31Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” 32Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. 33For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 34They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” 35Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”  John 6:24-35

This, in a nutshell, is what is so hard about the gospel and the sacraments. For they come into our lives, disrupting the neat order we’ve arranged, and surprise us, even shock us, by making these audacious promises of life and wholeness. And that’s hard. For on a day-to-day basis, most of us have gotten pretty good at defending ourselves from the pain and frustration and hurt and despair of life in this world. And then these promises of God are announced to us and they only betray the foolishness of our self-reliance and at the same time promise us more than we could have ever hoped for.

I mean think about it: at Baptism we pour water over an infant’s head and announce to her God’s promise to be with her forever, to go with her wherever she may go, to hold on to her through all that life has to offer – including even death – and to grant her life eternal. My word, but that’s some promise. And exactly the same happens in the Lord’s Supper. For each time you come to the Table you are promised nothing less than forgiveness, acceptance, wholeness: in a word, life, both now and forever. And the thing about all this – about forgiveness and acceptance and the like – is that such things, as we know, just can’t be gained or earned, coerced or accomplished. Like love, they can only be given as a gift by one person to another. Communion and baptism are God’s external and objective words of love and forgiveness, given in a form which we can receive, for, as we said last week, the sacraments are God’s physical, visible words for God’s physical, visible people. 

And the thing is, just as with Jesus’ words to the crowd, such a promise is as frightening as it is comforting, for such a promise raises hopes and expectations to dizzying heights. And so St. John reports that the people naturally ask, “what miracle will you perform so that we may see it and believe you?” In other words, “Prove yourself, Jesus.” And my, but doesn’t that sound familiar, for how much easier faith would be if God would just do what God’s supposed to do and give us a miracle.” (David Lose, “…in the Meantime” website, The Surprise of Our Lives, July 27, 2015)

“What do you want?

Looking out at my backyard during the fall, I noticed the leaves falling while the tree branches remained stretching heavenward–not only did they remain that way after the leaves were gone, but when the snows came and the often brutal winds of Chicago seemed to bend them into submission. But in the spring the trees seemed to speak to me saying, “Notice that we kept our branches lifted towards where our help comes from.” To me it seemed that they praised God with or without leaves, as if they knew that keeping their branches up was a means of patient waiting faith, and it was in the spring when the buds appeared on their branches that those trees seemed to say to me, “We told you. We told you that our help comes from above.” So not only does this text tell us that God provides through Jesus not what we want but what we need and that God’s promise can sustain us through all times, but, finally, the text tells us God’s presence through Jesus allows us room to grow in grace. A friend of mine called to tell me that she received a letter from one of her junior high teachers. My friend had done reasonably well in corporate America while still being in touch with God. She said the teacher wrote one line that was unforgettable, saying, “Thanks for being such a good student. You made me a good teacher, and for that, I’m thankful.” Now it’s one thing to write the teacher, but when the teacher writes the student–now that’s quite another thing.

Yet God writes us each morning with a sunrise greeting and each evening with a sunset closing. Knowing that makes us teachable students aware of an all-knowing God. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” (Sermon from Rev. Dr. Ozzie Smith, What Do You Want?, August 3, 2003)

Pastor Dave