Feasting on Christ
August 11, 2024 Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
Psalm 34:1-8John 6:35, 41-51
"Feasting on Christ:
Courtney M. Chandler
He was 3 years old and standing on a step stool so he could reach the kitchen counter. We had measured the flour and added honey and yeast. We had covered the bowl of dough and let that dough rise. We were now working on a floured surface and I watched as his little hands and chubby fingers worked their way into the dough. He would let out an occasional, “HULK SMASH!” as he would pound the dough with both hands. Liam, my son, and I would split the dough into several pieces and place them in mini loaf pans and cover them again to allow them to rise a little more before placing them in the oven. When they came out, we let them cool, then we wrapped each loaf. I tied ribbons around the bread and we placed them in a large basket.
I had been serving a tiny little church that sat right on the side of the highway in Georgia that connects Atlanta to Athens. It was a very busy stretch of road during Georgia football season. This little white church had been there for well over a hundred years. Most people didn’t even pay attention to it, even though it was beautiful and had been there for so long. We averaged around 24 people a Sunday. The average age of the congregation was 70. We had members who were over 100 years old who still showed up each Sunday with the help of a home aid. I was told by the few who had children and grandchildren nearby not to have worship that coming Sunday. It was Christmas Day and no one would be in attendance. But as I looked at that elderly congregation, I was well aware that most of them didn’t have extended family nearby.
So, Liam and I woke up that morning. Glanced at what Santa had left under the tree, which was so hard for a 3 year old boy, got dressed and grabbed our basket of bread and drove to the little white church. We had around 19 of those 24 in attendance that morning. There was no music so we sang a couple of hymns acapella. There were a couple of prayers, there were readings, there were a few short words from their pastor and then we had communion. People came down front to get the communion as I served them and then they walked to the side where they took a loaf of bread from the big basket being held by a handsome little three year old boy with blonde curls who grinned proudly from ear to ear because he knew he was giving those older church members a gift he had helped to make. It didn’t seem like much, but on that day, it was everything.
It was more than just a loaf of bread. It was patience and love that went into those loaves that fed people that day. I had shared with them that Liam helped make that bread. I cannot begin to tell you how many hugs that child received on the way out of worship. I cannot begin to tell you how for weeks we received letters thanking us and people telling Liam how much they enjoyed his bread with the jam they had made or with the soup they had bought at the store. It wasn’t just bread….but it was so much more. It was a reminder that the child whose birth we were celebrating, according to the gospel of John, was the word and the light and the living water, and where the lectionary leads us today, the bread of life.
If you look at the gospel of John, earlier in chapter six, Jesus had been preaching to a crowd when suddenly everyone became hungry. A child with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish is in attendance. So, Jesus takes that child’s food and gives thanks and breaks the pieces and places them into baskets. It is enough to feed the more than 5,000 people who were gathered there that day. It says they ate until they were satisfied. They didn’t have an all you can eat buffet. They didn’t eat like we do in our 21st century western world. Food and drink were necessary to live. And all were satisfied and when they collected the baskets there were 12 baskets of left overs…no one felt a need to overindulge themselves, just had enough to fill them and get them through. They were amazed at what Jesus had done and they believed.
Fast forward a few verses to the section you just heard me read and now the crowd begins to question Jesus when he says he is the bread of life that came down from heaven.
It’s almost as if they know too much. You know, how when you really know someone you think, “How on earth did they get into that college?” Or, “How did they get to be an actor or a singer?” Or, “How on earth did they become a pastor? I knew them in their college years.” (Please know that I was NOT referring to myself with that statement).
Well, here the people saying,, “Wait a minute…How can you be the bread of life? How can you have, ‘come down from heaven?’ Aren’t you Joseph's boy? The carpenter’s kid? Yep, that’s the kid who was born in a barn in Bethlehem to that poor teenage girl.” How can Jesus claim to be all that? How can he claim to be the bread of life who came down from heaven? Who does he think he is?
And suddenly we see the believers becoming the doubters…
But that’s how we are isn’t it? In our humanness we don’t want to accept the things we cannot understand. How does someone who struggled through school become a doctor? How does someone who was told they would never walk again become an Olympic athlete? How does someone become a pastor when they are so flawed? And what about how we think of ourselves? How do we respond to the call to serve when we believe in the voices that tell us we are too young or too old or not a great speaker or that we are sinners or too small? Or that we don’t come from the right side of town? How do we say we will stand up and preach God’s word when you’re just a short little woman who has to stand on a box behind the pulpit so she can see over the pulpit? (Again, not necessarily talking about myself). Who is going to take you seriously?
Why is it so hard to respond with a resounding yes to the miraculous ways we and others are called? Why is it so hard to believe that God can use us when we are called? Perhaps we are like the Jews in this story. We believe, but we also know too much and because we know too much, we forget about the mystery of God’s grace at work in our lives. It is the mystery we need to embrace in order to fulfill our place as participants in the realm of God in the here and now.
We can try to explain things, or we can try to embrace the unknown and just go with where God leads us. That’s difficult for us to do. It is hard to accept that God can be made present in the most ordinary of people and in the most ordinary of things, like a loaf of bread. If we cannot accept the mystery, it can hold us back and keep us from living into the fullness of our faith.
It’s not easy to do, but we have to let go of our egos in order to make room for God’s creativity and allow the Spirit to move in us and among us. When we can do that, when we can let go of all the knowledge and data in our head, and we open our hearts to the fact that God can turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, we can more fully live into being the people God calls us to be.
Dr. Fred Craddock, a former professor of theology at Emory University shared this story in his classic, “Who’s your Daddy?” sermon.
The story takes place while Dr. Craddock and his wife, Nellie, were on vacation in Gatlinburg, TN.
After ordering breakfast at a restaurant, the couple waited for their meal, hoping to enjoy a few private moments together. When they noticed a distinguished-looking, white-haired gentleman moving from table to table, visiting with the guests. Professor Craddock leaned over and whispered to his wife, “We came here to get away from the crowds. I hope he doesn’t come over.” But sure enough, the man soon stopped at their table.
“Where are you folks from?” he asked in a friendly voice.
“Oklahoma,” they answered.
“Great to have you here in Tennessee,” the stranger said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I teach at a seminary,” he replied.
“Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I’ve got a really great story for you.” And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down.
At that point, the professor silently groaned and thought to himself, “Great. Just what I need . . . another preacher story!”
Pointing out a window, the man continued. “See that mountain over there? Not far from the base of that mountain an unwed mother gave birth to a son. He had a hard life in his early years because just about every place he went, people asked the same question: ’Young man, who’s your daddy?’ At school, the boy often hid from his fellow students during recess, and almost always sat alone while having lunch. Because ‘the question’ caused so much pain, he avoided going into local shops. Although he attended church regularly, he always arrived late and stepped out early. When he was about 12 years old, a new minister at his church gave the sermon. The benediction happened so fast that the boy got caught in the aisle and had to walk out with everyone else. When he reached the exit, the new minister, not knowing anything about the young man, put his hand on his shoulder and asked, ‘Son, who is your daddy?’
“When some members of the congregation heard the question, they became deathly quiet, knowing that the young man was embarrassed. By the sheepish looks on the faces of those within earshot, the minister realized his mistake and, using discernment that only the Holy Spirit could provide, quickly recovered…‘Wait a minute! I see the family resemblance. You are a child of God.’ With that he placed his hand on the shoulder of the young man and said, ‘Boy, you’ve got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.’
“That young man was never the same again,” the stranger continued. Whenever anybody asked him, ‘Who’s your daddy,’ he’d answer, ‘I’m a Child of God.’ Isn’t that a great story?”
The professor, by then genuinely interested, responded, “It really is!”
As the older man walked away, he remarked, “You know, if that new preacher hadn’t told me that I was one of God’s children, I probably never would have amounted to anything!”
The professor, deeply moved by the experience, called his waitress over and asked, “Do you know who that man is?”
The waitress smiled. “Everybody around here knows that man. He lives just down the road. That’s the former governor of Tennessee!”
Moses stood on a mountain and God called him to go to Pharaoh and his response was,
“But I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.” Moses had a speech impediment, yet God used him. Rahab was a prostitute who helped the Israelite spies hide from their enemies. Ruth was a foreigner in a strange land. Mary was an unwed teenage girl. Paul had been persecuting and killing Christians before his conversion ... .God is a mystery and God can lead us to do great things individually and also as a community. God uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things! We have to give up what we know about ourselves and embrace the unknown. And yes, embracing the unknown and following God is hard work. It’s meant to be hard work. We are going to get exhausted and hungry and we are going to need to recharge and refresh ourselves along the way…we are going to need the Bread of Life.
We will need to allow Christ to nurture us and feed us until we are satisfied and we can carry on. When we feel weary we can gather at the table with one another, with the saints who came before us, and with Christ himself and we say, “Here I am…” When we let go of the doubts and fears and accept that God is bigger than anything we can imagine and that God uses ordinary folks to bring the Kingdom of God to the here and now to serve with love, we can do GREAT things in the world. It doesn’t matter if you are a 3 year old holding a basket of bread, or a 33 year old questioning their life decisions, or someone who is 103 and giving thanks for each day, God still calls us and uses us. And when we feel tired, we know we can turn to the one who will continuously give us what we need to keep going.
And this bread is not just for some. This bread is for everyone. It’s for the whole world. It’s not up to us to decide who can and cannot have the bread of life. It’s literally for all who are hungry or weary. It is the Bread of Life which sustains us and gives us what we need to carry on. Come, enjoy the feast, taste and see that God is good.
Amen.
Ladue Chapel Presbyterian Church
Psalm 34:1-8John 6:35, 41-51
"Feasting on Christ:
Courtney M. Chandler
He was 3 years old and standing on a step stool so he could reach the kitchen counter. We had measured the flour and added honey and yeast. We had covered the bowl of dough and let that dough rise. We were now working on a floured surface and I watched as his little hands and chubby fingers worked their way into the dough. He would let out an occasional, “HULK SMASH!” as he would pound the dough with both hands. Liam, my son, and I would split the dough into several pieces and place them in mini loaf pans and cover them again to allow them to rise a little more before placing them in the oven. When they came out, we let them cool, then we wrapped each loaf. I tied ribbons around the bread and we placed them in a large basket.
I had been serving a tiny little church that sat right on the side of the highway in Georgia that connects Atlanta to Athens. It was a very busy stretch of road during Georgia football season. This little white church had been there for well over a hundred years. Most people didn’t even pay attention to it, even though it was beautiful and had been there for so long. We averaged around 24 people a Sunday. The average age of the congregation was 70. We had members who were over 100 years old who still showed up each Sunday with the help of a home aid. I was told by the few who had children and grandchildren nearby not to have worship that coming Sunday. It was Christmas Day and no one would be in attendance. But as I looked at that elderly congregation, I was well aware that most of them didn’t have extended family nearby.
So, Liam and I woke up that morning. Glanced at what Santa had left under the tree, which was so hard for a 3 year old boy, got dressed and grabbed our basket of bread and drove to the little white church. We had around 19 of those 24 in attendance that morning. There was no music so we sang a couple of hymns acapella. There were a couple of prayers, there were readings, there were a few short words from their pastor and then we had communion. People came down front to get the communion as I served them and then they walked to the side where they took a loaf of bread from the big basket being held by a handsome little three year old boy with blonde curls who grinned proudly from ear to ear because he knew he was giving those older church members a gift he had helped to make. It didn’t seem like much, but on that day, it was everything.
It was more than just a loaf of bread. It was patience and love that went into those loaves that fed people that day. I had shared with them that Liam helped make that bread. I cannot begin to tell you how many hugs that child received on the way out of worship. I cannot begin to tell you how for weeks we received letters thanking us and people telling Liam how much they enjoyed his bread with the jam they had made or with the soup they had bought at the store. It wasn’t just bread….but it was so much more. It was a reminder that the child whose birth we were celebrating, according to the gospel of John, was the word and the light and the living water, and where the lectionary leads us today, the bread of life.
If you look at the gospel of John, earlier in chapter six, Jesus had been preaching to a crowd when suddenly everyone became hungry. A child with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish is in attendance. So, Jesus takes that child’s food and gives thanks and breaks the pieces and places them into baskets. It is enough to feed the more than 5,000 people who were gathered there that day. It says they ate until they were satisfied. They didn’t have an all you can eat buffet. They didn’t eat like we do in our 21st century western world. Food and drink were necessary to live. And all were satisfied and when they collected the baskets there were 12 baskets of left overs…no one felt a need to overindulge themselves, just had enough to fill them and get them through. They were amazed at what Jesus had done and they believed.
Fast forward a few verses to the section you just heard me read and now the crowd begins to question Jesus when he says he is the bread of life that came down from heaven.
It’s almost as if they know too much. You know, how when you really know someone you think, “How on earth did they get into that college?” Or, “How did they get to be an actor or a singer?” Or, “How on earth did they become a pastor? I knew them in their college years.” (Please know that I was NOT referring to myself with that statement).
Well, here the people saying,, “Wait a minute…How can you be the bread of life? How can you have, ‘come down from heaven?’ Aren’t you Joseph's boy? The carpenter’s kid? Yep, that’s the kid who was born in a barn in Bethlehem to that poor teenage girl.” How can Jesus claim to be all that? How can he claim to be the bread of life who came down from heaven? Who does he think he is?
And suddenly we see the believers becoming the doubters…
But that’s how we are isn’t it? In our humanness we don’t want to accept the things we cannot understand. How does someone who struggled through school become a doctor? How does someone who was told they would never walk again become an Olympic athlete? How does someone become a pastor when they are so flawed? And what about how we think of ourselves? How do we respond to the call to serve when we believe in the voices that tell us we are too young or too old or not a great speaker or that we are sinners or too small? Or that we don’t come from the right side of town? How do we say we will stand up and preach God’s word when you’re just a short little woman who has to stand on a box behind the pulpit so she can see over the pulpit? (Again, not necessarily talking about myself). Who is going to take you seriously?
Why is it so hard to respond with a resounding yes to the miraculous ways we and others are called? Why is it so hard to believe that God can use us when we are called? Perhaps we are like the Jews in this story. We believe, but we also know too much and because we know too much, we forget about the mystery of God’s grace at work in our lives. It is the mystery we need to embrace in order to fulfill our place as participants in the realm of God in the here and now.
We can try to explain things, or we can try to embrace the unknown and just go with where God leads us. That’s difficult for us to do. It is hard to accept that God can be made present in the most ordinary of people and in the most ordinary of things, like a loaf of bread. If we cannot accept the mystery, it can hold us back and keep us from living into the fullness of our faith.
It’s not easy to do, but we have to let go of our egos in order to make room for God’s creativity and allow the Spirit to move in us and among us. When we can do that, when we can let go of all the knowledge and data in our head, and we open our hearts to the fact that God can turn the ordinary into the extraordinary, we can more fully live into being the people God calls us to be.
Dr. Fred Craddock, a former professor of theology at Emory University shared this story in his classic, “Who’s your Daddy?” sermon.
The story takes place while Dr. Craddock and his wife, Nellie, were on vacation in Gatlinburg, TN.
After ordering breakfast at a restaurant, the couple waited for their meal, hoping to enjoy a few private moments together. When they noticed a distinguished-looking, white-haired gentleman moving from table to table, visiting with the guests. Professor Craddock leaned over and whispered to his wife, “We came here to get away from the crowds. I hope he doesn’t come over.” But sure enough, the man soon stopped at their table.
“Where are you folks from?” he asked in a friendly voice.
“Oklahoma,” they answered.
“Great to have you here in Tennessee,” the stranger said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I teach at a seminary,” he replied.
“Oh, so you teach preachers how to preach, do you? Well, I’ve got a really great story for you.” And with that, the gentleman pulled up a chair and sat down.
At that point, the professor silently groaned and thought to himself, “Great. Just what I need . . . another preacher story!”
Pointing out a window, the man continued. “See that mountain over there? Not far from the base of that mountain an unwed mother gave birth to a son. He had a hard life in his early years because just about every place he went, people asked the same question: ’Young man, who’s your daddy?’ At school, the boy often hid from his fellow students during recess, and almost always sat alone while having lunch. Because ‘the question’ caused so much pain, he avoided going into local shops. Although he attended church regularly, he always arrived late and stepped out early. When he was about 12 years old, a new minister at his church gave the sermon. The benediction happened so fast that the boy got caught in the aisle and had to walk out with everyone else. When he reached the exit, the new minister, not knowing anything about the young man, put his hand on his shoulder and asked, ‘Son, who is your daddy?’
“When some members of the congregation heard the question, they became deathly quiet, knowing that the young man was embarrassed. By the sheepish looks on the faces of those within earshot, the minister realized his mistake and, using discernment that only the Holy Spirit could provide, quickly recovered…‘Wait a minute! I see the family resemblance. You are a child of God.’ With that he placed his hand on the shoulder of the young man and said, ‘Boy, you’ve got a great inheritance. Go and claim it.’
“That young man was never the same again,” the stranger continued. Whenever anybody asked him, ‘Who’s your daddy,’ he’d answer, ‘I’m a Child of God.’ Isn’t that a great story?”
The professor, by then genuinely interested, responded, “It really is!”
As the older man walked away, he remarked, “You know, if that new preacher hadn’t told me that I was one of God’s children, I probably never would have amounted to anything!”
The professor, deeply moved by the experience, called his waitress over and asked, “Do you know who that man is?”
The waitress smiled. “Everybody around here knows that man. He lives just down the road. That’s the former governor of Tennessee!”
Moses stood on a mountain and God called him to go to Pharaoh and his response was,
“But I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.” Moses had a speech impediment, yet God used him. Rahab was a prostitute who helped the Israelite spies hide from their enemies. Ruth was a foreigner in a strange land. Mary was an unwed teenage girl. Paul had been persecuting and killing Christians before his conversion ... .God is a mystery and God can lead us to do great things individually and also as a community. God uses ordinary people to do extraordinary things! We have to give up what we know about ourselves and embrace the unknown. And yes, embracing the unknown and following God is hard work. It’s meant to be hard work. We are going to get exhausted and hungry and we are going to need to recharge and refresh ourselves along the way…we are going to need the Bread of Life.
We will need to allow Christ to nurture us and feed us until we are satisfied and we can carry on. When we feel weary we can gather at the table with one another, with the saints who came before us, and with Christ himself and we say, “Here I am…” When we let go of the doubts and fears and accept that God is bigger than anything we can imagine and that God uses ordinary folks to bring the Kingdom of God to the here and now to serve with love, we can do GREAT things in the world. It doesn’t matter if you are a 3 year old holding a basket of bread, or a 33 year old questioning their life decisions, or someone who is 103 and giving thanks for each day, God still calls us and uses us. And when we feel tired, we know we can turn to the one who will continuously give us what we need to keep going.
And this bread is not just for some. This bread is for everyone. It’s for the whole world. It’s not up to us to decide who can and cannot have the bread of life. It’s literally for all who are hungry or weary. It is the Bread of Life which sustains us and gives us what we need to carry on. Come, enjoy the feast, taste and see that God is good.
Amen.
Posted in August 2024
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