If this is true in a beautiful cathedral in Spain or a simple house in Sherman Oaks then the same should be true about a rainforest in Costa Rica or in an arid desert in Sudan. This shouldn’t sound weird to us. The Bible is full of stories of God being revealed in nature.
The psalmist uses the earth’s elements as visages of God’s greatness. God’s clothes are made of majestic light. God’s bed chamber is water. God’s ride is a chariot made of clouds and wind. Rainbow clothes, water beds, and a sky blue Cadillac - sounds like God still lives in the 1970’s!
It’s worth noting the psalmist speaks of God in the present tense imagining God here. And there. And everywhere among us. Which tells me that if we want to see God, all we need to do is look all around us. From the most powerful star to an insignificant grain of sand, every part of creation reveals God’s beauty, wisdom, and love for us. Which is why my friend call’s nature, God’s greatest medicine. There is something therapeutic about being surrounded by God’s presence. A few years ago, I was on a silent retreat in Cleveland. I found a little nook hidden in the forest, and settled in. As I focused on my breathing, my heart began to keep time with the sounds of nature. I’m not sure how long I sat there but when I opened my eyes there were three young deer eating grass - all within arm’s reach of me. This divine trinity reminded me just how close God really is to us. In the book of Job we read, “Ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind” (Job 12:7-10). The author of that story reminds us that this world is full of God’s imagination and creativity. Mountains, oceans, deserts, trees every part of creation proclaims the unspoken glory of God’s generous love. And yet, it’s only humans who question it and neglect it. Kathleen Bostrom writes, “A love for God’s creation is enhanced when we see the heavens and earth through the eyes of the Creator, who took the time to stop after every object created to declare, ‘This is good.’” Now, here’s a fun fact: in the creation story, there are only two instances where God does not pronounce something as “good.” The separation of light from dark. And the division of heaven from earth. In contrast, everything else—from every rat and moth to elephant, mushroom, dandelion, or human soul God has declared good. This inherent goodness is what connects all of creation including you and me to God “Everything in creation belongs to the large family of God,” declared Henri Nouwen. If we believe God is love, then we are a part of that gracious, interconnected heartbeat. I think when we are able to embrace this truth, that we are God’s beloved, made good, not only will we see ourselves and each other in a more caring light, but we will also deepen our understanding and worship of our Creator. When we pause to honor our interconnectedness, our souls can’t help but be lifted “in wonder and awe.” Think about a time when you watched the sunset or a cooper hawk gliding in the wind your body reacts positively doesn’t it. Your heart is lifted, making you feel whole and elated, like you’re part of something greater than yourself. If you’ve ever stood underneath a canopy of stars you know what I am talking about. The sheer number shimmering specks is so overwhelming, it can truly take your breath away. One cannot look at the night sky and not be humbled. I experienced this on an unforgettable trip to Tanzania. Without any light pollution to interfere, the sky looked like an enormous diamond, sparkling with billions of facets. Each star felt so within reach that it seemed you could just pluck them from the heavens. Standing there speechless, I imagined diving into that vast celestial expanse and hearing God whisper, “Now this is good.” St. Francis wanted us to know that God is everywhere. And we are one in that everywhere with everything. And with everything, we are made good. In John’s gospel, Jesus said, I and the Father are one which some take to mean he and God are exclusively joined. But I think he wants us to know that just as he is one with God, so are we. This does not mean we are God. But that we are a part of God and God is a part of us. Just as Jesus opens our hearts to let us know we are God’s beloved, he also opens our eyes so we can see God all around us, and worship God with a life in humbled awe. To live life without taking notice of the world around you is to miss out on one of the most tangible and beautiful ways God speaks to us. Let us enter the world with our eyes on God who is revealed in a billion variations of flora and fauna as well as in all the different faces of those around us. Especially in the faces we try to avoid - the hungry, the tired, the sick, and the dying. By closing the gap between us and them, as Jesus and Francis demonstrated, we become the living embodiment of God’s glory, that helps others be humbled in awe. We can testify to all the amazing things God is doing right here, right now —by loving others as God loves us, and by caring for all of creation as God cares for us. As St. Francis taught, wherever there is life, there is God. And as Jesus showed us with his own life, wherever God is, there is love. So whenever or wherever the body of Christ gathers in love, the church comes alive — be it here, there, and everywhere. No matter where you are, may your heart sing, “Bless the Lord, O my soul.” For the One who made us out of stardust has declared us all good. Work Cited Adapted from God Is Here. And There. And Everywhere. (October 10, 2021) Bartlett, David L. and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word, Year B Vol. 3. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2009). Nouwen, Henri. Bread For The Journey. (Convergent, 1997). Rohr, Richard. Excerpts from his daily devotional Every Creature Is An Epiphany (accessed on 10.02.21).
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So, when his folks, who were visiting from East Texas, wanted to go to church, John jumped at the chance to check us out.
After the camera was off, they quickly join in conversation, and within moments, it was clear that they weren’t just visitors—they were already becoming part of our church family. When Jesus was asked, “Who is my neighbor?” he responded with the story of the Good Samaritan, a beautiful example of showing radical, Christlike love to someone in need. It reminds us that hospitality goes beyond a warm welcome—it’s about extending the same love God gives to all of us. It's the kind of love that treats strangers as family, going beyond what's expected to make people feel genuinely seen and cared for. Jesus calls us to be his hands and feet, and I believe that begins with how we welcome others. I don’t know if or when John will return, but while they were with us, I was (and wasn’t) surprised at how quickly and naturally the whole church made sure they felt valued and loved. That’s what true hospitality looks like – love in action. As we’ve been saying since our inception: Church is not a building. It’s people, with open hearts and arms, who are ready to welcome everyone home.
But, as Rob Bell likes to say, “God gets what God wants.” Next thing I know, I’m enrolled in seminary…and now here we are.
I have come to realize, life itself is one great classroom. No matter how many degrees you have (or don’t have), we’re all students, always learning. Yet, for those of us who follow Jesus, we are called to be more. Not only do we learn how to navigate the world following his teachings, but we are also sent out to the same world to share what we have learned. We constantly find ourselves holding the tension in that space between student and teacher. Although most of the time we might not have a clue of what we’re doing, I believe we can stand confidently in this space knowing what we know about Christ as he’s revealed to us in our reading today. Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.
When I accepted my call to ministry, I reached out to my childhood pastor, Bob Walkup. I confessed to him that I had no idea what I was getting into. In his calm way, Bob said something that’s always stuck with me. He said, “Ian, you’ve always been a minister. You just didn’t realize it.”
Last week, we sat around after the camera was off and we talked about the ways we live Jesus out in the world. Most of our answers were similar, being present and showing compassion. Taking what Jesus has taught us and living it out in real time, in real ways. Although today’s reading talks about Christ as our High Priest, it also reminds us, his followers, that we too are ministers. While this might not be the word you use to describe yourself at parties, it does speak to what Bob told me. And maybe you haven’t realized it yet. I get if you’re skeptical. There have been moments in my life where I doubted my faith, and days where question my abilities to lead a church. If I had a penny for every time I asked, “Why me, God? What do I know?” I’d probably still be asking the question, but I’d be asking it from a yacht. After years of seeing what God is capable of doing through me, I have discovered you don’t need to be straight A student or have the faith of a saint to share God’s love. You just need to have a willing heart. For it’s in our hearts where God resides. The Irish mystic John Scotus Eriugena wrote, “God is in all things, as the essence of all things, for God is in our soul, and God is in our heart, and God is in our mind, and in our body.” Jesus teaches us to let go of our fear and self-doubt, so we can see more clearly how God has always been a part of our story, blessing us and redeeming us, whether we know it or not. For example, I used to hate this scar cancer left on me. Most people don’t notice it, but I do. It used to make me depressed and feel broken and ashamed. Then one day, I met someone going through a difficult battle with cancer. She was sitting in a chair, getting her last infusion of chemo. Knowing what she was going through, I refrained from offering pastoral platitudes. Instead, I complemented the blanket wrapped around her. She asked, “You know this blanket?” When I nodded yes, she asked, “And what about this bag?” Then I showed her my scar. That’s all it took to begin a difficult but honest conversation. In that moment, God transformed this ugly line into a heavenly bridge between us. What was once a thing of pain and shame, became a holy and sacred ministry. Now, when I see that scar, I don’t think of what caused it. But what God can do with it - for me and for those I show it to. We all have our scars, our cracks and brokenness. Each one a story of God’s grace and love at work in us. It’s a story, we are called to share. Because who knows what God will awaken in someone else. Nadia Bolz-Weber reminds us that, “God’s grace is not for the worthy; it’s for the messed up, the broken, the weak.” We can move with confidence not because we have it all together, but because God “sees all of us—the good, the bad, and the ugly—and calls us beloved anyway.” Jesus was the embodiment of God’s perfect love and glory. Through His own pain and suffering, he blesses our scars and makes them divine. His entire life was a proclamation to what God is doing through people like us. And now it’s our turn to teach what we’ve learned from him. Self-doubt will no doubt try to stop us. And fear will seek to sabotage your confidence. But the fact that you are here, right now, is a testimony to God’s great love for you. A story I hope you will share to teach others about the great gospel story. The author of Hebrews describes Jesus as “the Great High Priest.” In religious terms, this suggests he’s the one in charge of offering gifts and sacrifices to God on our behalf for our sins. But did you know the word “priest” literally means “bridge.” Which makes Jesus the bridge between us and God. More than someone who intercedes on our behalf, Jesus walks us straight to the source. He is the way we follow to learn the way back to God’s heart. And now it’s up to us to be that bridge, using our scars and stories to teach people on his behalf. I might hold the title Co-Pastor of Anamesa, but Jesus has called us all to love God, love others, and serve both.We do this together, ministering to one another in his name; praying for each other in his name; and caring for one another in his name. That’s our ministry. Anyone one of us is capable of doing it even if you don’t realize it. I know someone who helps out his neighbor, a veteran with PTSD. He doesn’t do much more than listen to the guy and offer him a safe space to work through his issues. Although he doesn’t see it as a ministry, I can’t think of a better way to preach the compassionate heart of Christ than showing it to someone in need. I’m part of the interfaith food pantry. The folks who come for groceries don’t care if we’re Jewish, Islamic, or Christian. But with every bag that is handed out, something holy happens. Hope is found. And God’s love is made manifest. In the hands and hearts of our volunteers, Christ comes to life. And God’s glory is proclaimed. Whether it’s intentional or not, the smallest acts of kindness are enough to teach someone how big and inclusive God’s love really is. So here’s the thing: We are all pastors - called to bring hope into the world. We are all ministers - called to offer God’s love and mercy to those in need. We are all called to be priests - bridging the space between this life and everlasting life as living testimonies to God’s great glory. Yes, sometimes this requires preaching. But most of the time it’s about being present - being the hands and heart of Christ in the world. So let me leave you with this reminder…whenever there’s hunger or injustice present, or wherever people are sick, suffering, or imprisoned, or just merely stressed out over a deadline at work or getting into college, Jesus calls us to take what we’ve learned and simply be the presence of God’s love in those spaces. “It is love alone that gives worth to all things,” writes St. Teresa of Ávila, “and Christ, in His infinite mercy, calls us to share in that love through our weakness. In our weakness, we meet His strength.” You don’t have to be perfect or have a fancy degree. You just need a willing heart, trusting that God will do the rest. We all have something to teach, something to give. So, let’s go out into the world with intention, teaching Christ’s love by being his love in all that we do. Let’s go committed to our calling as ministers, pastors, and priest — learning, teaching, and being the bridge that leads others to God’s heart. Let us go and simply be the gospel proclaiming the good news, as St. Francis of Assisi taught, “using words only when necessary.” And as we do, we will stand confidently before God, who lives within us and calls us beloved. Work Cited: Excerpts from an original sermon It's Everyone's Job (October 17,2021). Bartlett, David L., Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Vol. 4. Westminster John Knox: 2009. pp. 182-186.
He quickly packed up a few personal items and important business records, leaving behind a lifetime of possessions that we both agreed was just stuff. And stuff can be replaced, right? But we both knew it was more than that.
Had Milton stayed on course, Mike’s life would’ve been forever changed. If you’ve ever lost everything—whether to a house fire, divorce, or an eviction—you can probably sympathize not just with Mike but also the man Jesus encounters in today’s reading.
A man with many possessions comes and bows down at Jesus’s feet. He wants to know what he has to do to inherit eternal life. And Jesus seems almost dismissive. He gives the man a quick run-down of the usual religious stuff, which the guy has been doing religiously his whole life.
Mark writes, Jesus looks at the man lovingly which sounds sweet until you realize he’s just preparing the guy for a shock of a lifetime - instructing him to sell everything he owns and give the money to the poor. Don’t keep one penny of the proceeds. If you own a house, or car, or have a retirement fund then this is probably the stop you get off at, right. Mark said the man went away grieving because he had a lot of possessions. I think there’s more to his sorrow. No matter how much he accumulated, he still lacked something. He spent his whole life practicing his faith, yet his heart remained empty. Perhaps you can relate. We live in a materialistic culture that measures most things in monetary terms. We are inundated by ads tempting us to believe that if we have this or that then our life will be better off. To hear Jesus say liquidate our 401k’s and give the proceeds away to the poor, our first instinct is to hightail it outta there. In his book, The Cost of Discipleship, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Discipleship can only be maintained as long as nothing is allowed to come between Christ and ourselves – neither the law, personal piety, or even the world.” Before we are quick to judge this rich young man, here’s something we ought to consider. In the ancient world, material prosperity was widely seen as a reward for one’s spiritual virtue. Similar to the prosperity gospel preached today, his wealth suggested he did everything right to make God blessed him so handsomely. Even the disciples were shocked to learn someone like him didn’t just automatically inherit eternal life. The thing is, we don’t buy or barter our way into heaven. It’s not up to us or anyone else. It’s up to God, whose steadfast love and unconditional grace has already cleared the way forward for anyone who wants in. So why then did the guy walk away? I think it’s because Jesus just awoken in him what life and eternal life look like in God’s Kingdom. It’s not about following laws until the end of the ages. Nor is it about the quantity of stuff we accumulate. Instead, it’s quality of our giving that stuff away – including ourselves. It’s about connecting with the ageless values of God – to care for the poor and needy with all that we have; to practice justice and mercy with a humble and faithful heart. This is what it means to follow Jesus. It’s not about making a deal with God. It’s about making a difference so others can see God’s glory shine through me and you. Discipleship is less about checking off a list of religious obligations. And more about following the Way of Jesus that leads to an abundant and everlasting life beginning with the life we are given right here in the space between us and them. Jesus offers this man something greater than all the stuff he possesses. But to receive this wonderful new gift entails letting go of the old life he knew and loved. No wonder the guy walks away upset. When we moved to Michigan, I had to get rid of a bunch of old stuff I’d collected and carried with me for years. Beautiful, mid-century modern furniture, and kitschy knick-knacks that had defined me, like my old job had. Watching my past drive off in someone else’s car, I realized that I’m not defined by what I own, but by who owns me: God. In that moment, I felt a part of me leave as well, which took time to get over. Still, what has remained, is God’s love that continues to carry me forward. Now, on another note, this young man wasn’t simply giving up his wealth, but all the power and prestige that came with it. Letting it go would mean he would be left completely naked and socially insignificant. The guy walked away upset because he took these words to heart knowing his life will never be the same again. But isn’t that the point? The Way of Jesus is all about transformation – from the inside out. It changes the way we see ourselves in relationship with God and others, in every aspect of life. We are all created in God’s image. And God can’t help but love that part of us, no matter who we are or what we’ve done. God’s love and grace is so immense that we can’t fully grasp it if our hands and heart are already full of other stuff. Jesus calls us to empty ourselves completely so we can be filled completely until we overflow with God’s glory. Spilling mercy and love and kindness and generosity like a toddler carrying a glass of milk. Moving on in the story, if we only gauge what happens by the dialog that follows between Jesus and the twelve, it’s easy to assume this man ignored what was asked of him. But did he? A few chapters later, Mark adds this one very odd verse that comes out of left field. Such verses are there to tell us to stop and pay close attention. It appears on the night Jesus is arrested in the garden. Mark writes, “A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked” (Mark 14:51). Most scholars believe this naked man is Mark writing himself into the story, which was a common practice in those days. If that were true, then I would argue Mark’s real story began at Jesus’ feet where he questioned his inheritance. Like so many others who encountered Jesus in their life, this wild nudist realized the value of what Jesus has to offer, and literally gave up everything to possess it. He took Jesus’ words to heart, and faithfully followed him – just as he had been following the commandments his whole life. In the end, the young man got what he desired the most. His story lives on in three of the four gospels. And continues to live with us - challenging our call to discipleship. This story invites us to take a serious look at the things that hold us back from embracing the life God wants for us on this side of heaven. I’m not just talking about letting go of money or material possessions. It’s easy to give away clothes and furniture to those in need, especially after a natural disaster like a hurricane or fire. If we want to live a truly transformed life, then we have to let go of stuff that’s holding us back from embodying it. Things like resentment, prejudice, and limiting beliefs. Remember Jesus doesn't tell the man to be perfect or even religious. He just said get rid of the things that keep you from faithfully following him embracing a way of life that’s all about loving God, loving others, and serving both. Discipleship is not about saying or believing the right thing. It’s about confronting and letting go of the idols of our hearts, be it wealth, status, or self-sufficiency. It’s about giving up everything that takes our focus and trust off God. The stuff, that Jesus says, make it “easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter into the Kingdom of God.” What is getting in your way to seeing this kingdom from being revealed to you, right here and right now? What’s stopping you from loving others unconditionally? What’s keeping you from living faithfully by making God’s love come alive in the flesh so no one is without? Jesus gave up everything he had so we could experience the divine economy of grace. Through him we receive abundantly so we can give generously, and fearlessly, and faithfully. Jesus said it so succinctly when he told his disciples to “love one another as God first loved you.” Love is the way we not only transform ourselves, but the world and communities we are a part of. For when we are able to truly love one another, and share all our peace and prosperity with everyone, we will not only gain the world, but all the treasures of heaven. Works Cited Bartlett, David L., Barbara Brown Taylor, eds. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Vol. 4. . Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2009. Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. The Cost Of Discipleship. New York: McMillian, 1949. Haverkamp, Heidi. "Reflections on the Lectionary." Christian Century, 09 26, 2018: 20. Kesselus, Ken. Possessions. 09 21, 2018. http://episcopaldigitalnetwork.com/stw/2018/09/21/possessions-pentecost-21-b-october-14-2018/ (accessed 10 12, 2018).
Some of my childhood friends were not so lucky. Many were still sifting through the aftermath of Hurricane Helene when Hurricane Milton reared its ugly head, gaining strength as it hovered over the warm Gulf of Mexico.
In moments like these, when warnings from FEMA and government officials still echoing in our ears, I think of the Old Testament prophets who called out to the Israelites, urging them to turn back to God in the face of danger. And as I watch the news reports of the aftermath, I picture the exiles who returned home to find their land ravaged. An ancient psalmist wrote these words of hope: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). This particular verse has been a lifelong mantra that’s gotten me through various upheavals in my life. And then there is, of course, Jesus’ contemplative question. “Why do you worry” about earthly possessions that can be easily destroyed, I am remind to “store your treasures in heaven” (Matthew 6:19-21). Whatever storm you are facing, these timeless truths have served as pillars of my faith that I think can really help us find calm in the midst of the chaos and storms of life. As I watched news of the storm's damage, I recall the ancient prophets witnessing something spectacular in the returning exiles - a hope filled community, ready to rebuild. Their story serves as a powerful reminder of the Church’s calling to be a beacon of faith, hope, and resilience in the face of adversity. It’s in this space, when the world feels like it is falling apart, we’re called to stand together as a faithful community, ready to serve and build the Kingdom of God. By trusting in God's providence and supporting one another, we can rise above the rubble and emerge stronger from every storm.
I think the answer is simply this:Jesus knew God would be doing all the heavy lifting. If they just trust God and stay faithful to the gospel, things will fall into place.
Today, as we celebrate World Communion Sunday, we are going to look at another meal, that reveals some things about God that will help us stay the course both as Christ followers and as his Church. It comes from the last chapter of John's gospel.
As the story begins, it's been 40 days since Easter and the disciples are already back to their old jobs. They are not fishing for people, like Jesus called them to do…but they’re fishing for actual fish. Now, Jesus goes to meet his friends back where he first called them - at the beach.
The sun’s light is just beginning to glow. The water is glassy and still. A light fog gives it an eerie calm as a chill slices through the silence. There’s a slow, melodic heartbeat on the shoreline. The steady rhythm of small waves lapping upon the rocks and shells. With the damp sand squishing between his toes, Jesus calls out to the guys fishing about 100 yards offshore. Again, like he did when he first met them, he tells them where to cast their net. It’s a very naked Simon Peter who first reacts when they recognize the familiar voice. Typical of him, he doesn’t hesitate. He just takes off. Jumping overboard and rushing towards his friend. The others quickly follow. Now besides the location and the calling of his friends, John has woven all sorts of other beautiful symbolism into this story. And if we rush through it to get to the end, we might miss it. For example, notice it’s Jesus who is waiting for his disciples to come home from work which, again, isn’t going so well. Although he’s patiently waiting, Jesus can’t help himself – nudging them in the right direction to get their catch. For one last time, John wants us to know that through Christ, God is present with us; waiting, nudging, and navigating us through the challenges we will face in life. Next, Jesus isn’t just idly standing by hoping to be noticed. He’s been there for a while, making a fire and preparing breakfast for his friends. This simple, mundane task is ripe with symbolism. Beginning with the fire itself. In scripture, fire is the symbol of the Holy Spirit. Like the pillar of fire that guided Israel through the wilderness, or the flames that swirled above the crowd on Pentecost when we see fire, we know God is with us – illuminating our way, and awakening our hearts and minds to see the Divine all around us. Here Jesus is the one making the fire. The one bringing the Holy Spirit to us. Another thing about this fire is it’s not made with pieces of driftwood found along the beach. John makes a point to say it’s a charcoal fire. And charcoal isn’t commonly found buried in the sand. Given the early morning hour, we can assume the charcoal store isn’t open which means Jesus had to carry the dirty, bulky load with him...as well as all the breakfast fixin’s. Now there are only two places in the New Testament where we find a charcoal fire. Both are in John’s gospel. The first is in the courtyard of the high priest where Peter denies Jesus three times. The second is here on the beach, where Jesus will redeem Peter three times for his betrayal. The symbolism of this fire reminds us that through Christ, the Spirit of God not only carries the load, but is always with us, always ready to redeem us. The next symbols might seem obvious. So much so that they could easily be overlooked. And that’s the meal itself – fish and bread. Does it remind you of anything? They were on the menu when Jesus fed the multitudes. As the story goes, a massive crowd came to hear Jesus speak. Apparently no one expected him to talk as long as he did, because no one but a little boy brought anything to eat. The boy offers all that he has to Jesus to help feed the people - a few fish and some bread. With this gift of generosity, a miracle happens. What is revealed to us in that story is that through Christ, God feeds our hunger with such great abundance that there’s more than enough leftovers for everyone. John tells us a similar thing happened at the beach that morning. You may have noticed Jesus doesn’t feed his friends his fish. Instead, he instructs them to bring their catch to him. What does this say about Jesus’ expectations for us, and our ministry? To bring people to him. Again, Peter is quick to respond – running to the net and hauling the bounty across the sand by himself. I’m sure that wasn’t easy given the amount of fish…153 to be exact. If each fish weighed 3 pounds, which wouldn’t be unthinkable, then such a load would seem impossible to handle by oneself. Even though the net was weighed down and dragged over shells and rocks, it didn’t tear or break. Why did John feel the need to tell us these things? First of all, Jesus called fishermen. And instructed them to be fishers of people. The way I see it, these fish represent the world. And the net represents those Jesus calls to continue his ministry. That’s you and me. We know what Jesus is asking of us isn’t going to be easy. Loving people can weight you down, and drag you through uncomfortable situations. But I think John wants us to know that no matter what God calls us to do, God’s nets are unbreakable. Through Christ, God equips us to do the work we’re called to do. And like I said earlier, God does all the heavy lifting. Which takes us to the last symbol I want to talk about the bread being warmed by the fire. From Israel’s exodus out of Egypt to the Last Supper, bread always symbolizes something greater than physical food. It represents God’s Word. Like Jesus said when tempted in the wilderness, “People do not live by bread alone; but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.” You might recall that John describes Jesus both as the Word of God and the Bread of Life. Whenever we see Jesus and bread together, we know something holy and sacred is happening. In this story, it’s in the sharing of bread Jesus give his final instructions to Peter and the gang: “If you love me, feed my lambs and tend to my sheep.” While this is part of Peter’s redemption, it becomes the very core of the church’s identity. Through this simple meal given to us by Christ, God is present, guiding and caring for us, equipping us and sending us to love and serve God and one another. As the world gathers to partake in this holy feast, we are reminded that Jesus is the bread that is broken for all who seek to feast on God’s abundant life and salvation. Whatever your need is — relational, spiritual, physical, or emotional, — come and meet Christ here at this table. Joining with others from around the world, and across a wide spectrum of faith practices, political alliances, and socioeconomic levels. Many have come from the East and the West, the North and the South to partake in this simple meal of bread and wine. Everyone is invited to join as you are able. This is not our table, but God’s, set by Jesus himself who unites us all, as one people, speaking one truth with one universal language which is love; specifically, God’s love. Come to this feast, not because you have to, but because you want to experience God’s love in the flesh. Whether you’re full of faith or filled with questions, there is enough for everybody. And no one will be sent away hungry. |
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