bread of life
By Linda Rex
August 22, 2021, PROPER 16—This morning I was reading an article about the consequences Christian churches in North America are beginning to face due to past mistreatment and genocide of first peoples. These are issues which cut deeply into the heart of our psyche as believers. Too often we have been influenced by our culture, by our generational prejudices, and undoubtedly, the evil which lurks in human hearts and is often manifested under the guise of Christian beliefs and practices.
Every generation, within the Church and without, faces the reality that it must deal with the consequences of the choices of their forebearers. And it must choose whether or not to continue on that same path, or to choose a new one, more in line with what is holy, just, and good. Will our children, and their children and their children’s children, make better choices? Or will they continue the systemic dehumanizing of their brothers and sisters? How can better choices be made within the current structures and systems at work in this world today—or do they need removed, or changed?
As I read the Old Testament passage for this Sunday (Joshua 24:1–2a, 14–18), I felt conflicted. Joshua was near the end of his life, having after many years of battle brought his people into their promised land and gotten them settled. They were finally experiencing peace so he wanted them to recommit themselves to God. He was committed to leaving behind the idols of the past and worshiping God alone, and he invited his people to do the same. What is left unsaid in this account is how his people would deal with the consequences of all they had done in conquering that land. How many people were killed or displaced so that God’s people could move in and settle? And isn’t that what many of our forbearers did right here in America centuries ago, believing it was God’s will?
Bringing this forward to today, I’m watching something similar happen here in Nashville right now. Someone owns a rental property with many apartments or trailers or homes. They decide to sell the property to a developer because they receive an offer they can’t refuse. All of the people renting there are summarily evicted. They cannot afford to rent a place similar to the one they had in that neighborhood, prices being too high, so they end up on the street, in sub-value housing or moving far away from their work. The developer puts in a new facility with even more apartments or condos, or homes, but none of them are affordable for all these people who got evicted. Over and over, people are being displaced, others are moving in where they used to live—the dynamics of human civilization at work for better or for worse.
Where is God in the midst of all this? We put such a great value on what we own, where we live, our homes and properties. We like to keep what is familiar and comfortable. When life becomes difficult—and for many it is constantly difficult—we can lose faith, lose hope, and even lose our love for one another. We can wonder where God went, because it may certainly seem as though he has left us. But we still have a choice: we can focus on the physical or we can raise the level of our view to heavenly heights to see that God is still present and active, redeeming, restoring, healing, and working through all of these things to bring about a greater purpose and plan.
The Spirit reminds us that God’s where he’s always been—present in and by his Spirit, at work in all these circumstances and situations to bring about his kingdom life. The apostle John liked to use the word abide to describe our intimate connection with God in Christ by the Spirit. To abide is to dwell, remain, stay in a place. Jesus left the benefits of heaven to join us in our darkness by taking on our human flesh. His purpose in joining us at our worst was to bring us up through death and resurrection into his best. What he calls us to do is to find our true residence and dwelling not on this earth but solely in him alone.
In John 6, Jesus had extensive conversations with the crowd about how he was the bread of life, the only source of true zōe life, eternal life, which he received from the Father. He said that “it is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh profits nothing.” We can be so obsessed with the life of our flesh, our human existence, that we miss the spiritual realities which are right in front of us. Or, like the people of Jesus day, we are so scandalized by the possibility that God has made room for each and every human being to have a place in the presence of God now and forever as his very own child that we want nothing to do with Jesus or the Christian faith.
It seems that for generations, for millennia, people have set claim upon spaces on this earth—owning a spot of land or living in the same place as their ancestors, or they have traveled, moved from one place to another. Some have always lived in the same place. Some have never known a stable home. Some have been welcomed to new lands, some haven’t. But God’s heart has always been that each and every person have a home to return to—that home in the Father’s arms which is solely their very own. Our heavenly Abba longs to embrace each one of us and is constantly looking expectantly down the road watching for every one of his prodigals to come home.
To eat Jesus’ flesh and drink his blood is figurative language. Eating and drinking cause what we are consuming to, in a sense, become a very part of us. To take in Christ, is to participate in a real and personal way, in his very existence by the Holy Spirit. When we, by faith, realize that Christ is in us and we are in him, that he died our death and lived our life, and lives in us—we are connected with God in a way that is unbreakable, a union and communion that is very real and very eternal. We are intimately known by him and we come to know Abba’s heart and mind as he reveals himself to us through Christ by the Spirit.
Our spiritual house can be shaken though. These experiences of life which are so destructive and unsettling can so disrupt our peace that we lose sight of what is real and true and holy. But the apostle Paul says “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.” He calls us three times to “stand firm”—taking a position against such spiritual opposition that we cannot be moved away from our foundation in Christ. He tells us to put on the spiritual armor of God, all elements of Christ himself—the helmet of salvation, breastplate of righteousness, belt of truth, shield of faith, and so on. We put on Christ, and we give attention to the Word of God and prayer in the Spirit as valuable weapons in this spiritual struggle (Eph. 6:10–20 NASB).
Our assurance is not in our ability to fight well, but in the reality that Jesus has already fought and won the battle. We rest in his finished work, for he has already defeated the evil one, death, and sin in his death and resurrection. We are in the process of moving from our own feeble strength to finding our strength in him alone (Ps. 84:5-7). We abide in Jesus, resting in him, living in complete dependence upon him, turning to him in faith.
As we face the reality of our broken humanity, and dealing even with the painful reality of whatever history lies behind us, we can have the comfort and assurance that we are at home in the love and grace of God himself. This God, who was present in every century, who knew every decision and its motive and result, is the God who joined us in our humanity, experienced the depths of the depravity of the human heart, and brought us up into new life. Nothing is so horrible or astonishing that he cannot and will not redeem it when it is brought to him. Will we allow him to be our true home, the place where we find true rest and healing, where grace and truth joined together in Christ is ours now and forever?
Heavenly Father, thank you for defending us from our enemies of evil, sin and death, and for rescuing us, bringing us home to be with you forever. We love you and rejoice in your gift of zōe life, being held in your eternal embrace through Jesus in the Spirit. Amen.
“My soul longed and even yearned for the courts of the LORD; | My heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God. … For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand outside. I would rather stand at the threshold of the house of my God | Than dwell in the tents of wickedness.” Psalm 84:2, 10 NASB
“‘He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him. As the living Father sent Me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats Me, he also will live because of Me. This is the bread which came down out of heaven; not as the fathers ate and died; he who eats this bread will live forever.’ … ‘Does this cause you to stumble? What then if you see the Son of Man ascending to where He was before? It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh profits nothing; the words that I have spoken to you are spirit and are life. But there are some of you who do not believe.’ … no one can come to Me unless it has been granted him from the Father.’ As a result of this many of His disciples withdrew and were not walking with Him anymore. So Jesus said to the twelve, ‘You do not want to go away also, do you?’ Simon Peter answered Him, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life. We have believed and have come to know that You are the Holy One of God.’” John 6:56–69 NASB
By Linda Rex
August 1, 2021, PROPER 13—There is something about the story of King David that resonates with me today. Here was a man who sought to live his life in a way that showed a dependency on and trust in God that few people experience. The lad who trusted the Lord to deliver him from the lion and the bear is the young man who trusted he could conquer the giant Goliath—and he did, with a simple stone from a sling.
After hiding for many years from King Saul, who sought to kill him, David learned to trust in the Lord’s leading, telling him when to move so that he and his men would be safe. As David took on his role as king over the ancient Israelites after King Saul’s death, he eventually took the city of Jerusalem and made it his own. King David and his army were busy for many years putting the enemies of the nation to flight. He was a charismatic and powerful political leader who for the most part, sought to live and reign with justice and integrity.
As we look at David’s life as king of Israel, though, we find some significant flaws in this hero. On one occasion, David didn’t go to war with his army—he stayed home and got himself into trouble. He committed adultery with the wife of Uriah, and when she became pregnant, he tried to fix it by making the child look like Uriah’s child. When Uriah wouldn’t cooperate, he sent him into battle with a note for the general Joab to put him on the frontlines and make sure he died (which he did).
King David valued the counsel of Nathan the prophet. After Bathsheba mourned Uriah’s death, David married her and their child was born. David had disguised his sin the best that he could, but there were some people who knew the truth of what he had done—his failure was a serious issue for him as a leader. Nathan came to him and tactfully told David a story about a man who stole a favored lamb from a poor man and used it to provide a meal for his guest. King David was infuriated by the story and demanded the greedy man’s death. Intrepid Nathan replied, “You are that man” (2 Samuel 11:26–12:13a).
How often do we come up against the reality, “You are that person”? What excuses, rationalizations, or reasonings do we use to avoid the truth, that we are the one who did that deed or failed to do what is needed or sought our life in places that only ended in death? How do we come to an acceptance of so grave a failure to love or obey the One who created us? It is tough to have the humility to own the truth. And we must. We must be willing to allow God to be the truthful One, the just One—the One who knows us completely, inside and out—and yet, loves us.
So often we live as King David did in that dark time in his life, seeking to feed the hunger and thirst of our soul with tangible, physical things which don’t last and which eventually turn out to be things which hold us captive or drain us of faith, hope, and love, bringing death and destruction into our lives. The king in this story did the right thing though when he woke up, the only thing which could bring any redemption whatsoever into his life—he repented and turned back to God. We see that he moved into prayer, fasting, and great humility, seeking God’s face and his mercy.
Psalm 51 is a song David wrote about his humble and honest acceptance of responsibility for what he had done and his desire to make things right in whatever way he could. What David sought was more than just an amendment of his moral behavior. It was a making right of his relationship with God. This is the key—he trusted in God’s gracious provision of forgiveness and reconciliation, and genuinely sought it out. He committed himself to life transformation at the hands of God, knowing he could never do it himself, on his own.
This brings me to the gospel story for this Sunday. The crowds were thrilled when Jesus fed them bread and fish, and sought to make him their political ruler. Jesus’ wilderness temptation came again as the crowd, satisfied with physical food, began to push for Christ to be king. Instead of yielding to their demands, Jesus sent his disciples away and dismissed the crowd. Jesus understood the profound difference between the physical hunger which drove them and the spiritual hunger in them which needed to be fed. Having poured himself out for them to provide for their physical needs, he sought to be filled anew himself in the one way which had eternal significance—he went up onto the mountain to pray. Jesus knew the true Source of life—and it wasn’t bread and fish.
The next day as the crowds sought him out on the other side of the sea, Jesus told them that they weren’t seeking what really mattered. They wanted him to feed their stomachs—he wanted to feed them spiritual food, food that would last on into eternity. They were seeking to provide for their physical needs in this life, while they needed to be much more concerned about their spiritual need for redemption and salvation. They were asking what works they needed to be doing in order to do the works of God. Jesus replied that there was only one work of God they needed to be doing and that was to believe in him, the One God had sent.
The crowds wanted Jesus to prove that he was greater than Moses. They believed that for forty years, Moses had provided manna, bread from heaven, in the wilderness (Exodus 16:2–4, 9–15). Jesus reminded them that Moses wasn’t the one who had provided food for the people—the “I Am”, their covenant God, had provided it. He was the One who had taken care of feeding them during their wilderness travels. Sadly, in spite of his gracious provision during those forty years, the ancient Israelites did not simply trust God to care for them but often complained and criticized Moses and Aaron instead (Psalm 78).
Jesus emphatically proclaimed that in the wilderness, his Father had provided them with the manna they needed to sustain them, but it wasn’t the bread of life. The One who descended from heaven, he said, is the One who is the true bread who gives life. Then Jesus made, as John records it, one of his signature “I Am” statements: “I am the bread of life.” Jesus wasn’t talking about providing for the physical needs of the crowd, but rather, their spiritual needs—their need for the zōē life of God, eternal life or new life which would be theirs in Christ, who was God in human flesh (John 6:24–40).
Like the woman at the well, the crowds sought an endless supply for their physical hunger and thirst. But Jesus was offering an endless supply for their spiritual hunger and thirst. He was offering himself as the Source of this genuine life. What they needed was not another meal or the fulfillment of their physical needs. What they needed was faith—to come to him and to believe in him. They needed to turn away from solely trying to satisfy their own needs through physical means and to trust him to supply every need they might have.
The Father sent Jesus so that every human being could be offered and receive eternal life in Christ. The genuine bread of life is Jesus Christ, the one who came to live, die, and rise again—taking our humanity into new life, into the presence of the Father now and forever in the Spirit. We find our true sustenance by living in an ongoing, trusting relationship with God through Jesus in the Spirit. As we turn away from ourselves and the things of this life and turn to Christ, we find fulfillment, rest and renewal as we grow in Christlikeness. We find, as we trust in him to meet every need, that he is faithful and gracious in his care of us.
Today, not all of us struggle to make ends meet or wonder where we are going to find the money for next week’s groceries. Some of us do. Yes, we need to do our part in providing for ourselves by doing an honest day’s work as we are able to. But our true dependency needs to be on the One who holds all things in his hand, the true Source of our life—the Bread of Heaven, Jesus Christ. We need to turn away from those things we try to find our life in and seek to find our true life in the One who feeds us with his very Self. By faith, we are brought in Christ into a new way of living and being that will last for all eternity as we walk and talk day by day with our Triune God who is love.
Heavenly Father, thank you for sending us the true bread of life, your Son Jesus Christ, and for providing for all we need for life and godliness. Thank you for pouring out your Spirit so that we might participate in your very life, now and forever, as Father, Son and Spirit. Grant us the grace to depend upon you alone for all we need, and to seek first and foremost the true spiritual life which is ours in Christ. Amen.
“Jesus then said to them, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread out of heaven, but it is My Father who gives you the true bread out of heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down out of heaven, and gives life to the world.’ Then they said to Him, ‘Lord, always give us this bread.’ Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst.’” John 6:32–35 (24–40) NASB