John 6:56-69

[Jesus said,] 56 “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. 57 Just as the living God sent me, and I live because of God, so whoever eats me will live because of me.

58 This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” 59 Jesus said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.
  60 When many of Jesus’ disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” 61 But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? 62 Then what if you were to see the Son of humanity ascending to where he was before? 63 It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. 64 But among you there are some who do not believe, who do not have faith.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. 65 And Jesus said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by God.”
  66 Because of this many of Jesus’ disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. 67 So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” 68 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. 69 We have come to trust and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Living God,

Amidst all the worries, horrors, and difficulties

We see in our world,

It can all feel like too much.

We can feel like not enough.

Give us food that nourishes.

Feed and sustain us to be your body—

Your hands, your feet, your heart—

Broken, given, and shared

For the world, for our neighbor, and for each other.

Amen.

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There is very little that I enjoy about seeing the numbers 5, 4, and 5 on my watch and on my phone, most especially when they have an A and an M next to them.

I am not a morning person. But most mornings, that’s when I drag myself out of bed. Except for Fridays and Saturdays when I sleep in until whenever Master of the House, Oliver, decides it’s time for the house to be awake, and except for Sundays when those numbers read more like 4:15.

I hate early mornings. But I get up anyway, and I exercise every single morning for at least 45 minutes.

This is a new thing for me.

I’m not big on tooting my own horn or throwing my own party, so I’m not going to dwell on this, but maybe you’ve noticed, I’ve lost a little bit of weight since the pandemic started. It’s something I’m proud of and something that’s taken a long time and will continue to take a long time, but it’s a journey I’m grateful to be on. But since last summer I’ve exercised every single day and I started watching and tracking what I eat, and it’s really helped me with my journey.

In the midst of so much craziness in our world, focusing on my health has been a small thing that I feel like I have a certain amount of control over.

Again, not tooting my own horn, but here’s what I want to say about all of this…I’m still not sure if this is a habit for me. Like, I still don’t really like to do this. I don’t think I would necessarily choose this for myself, and if left to my own devices, I think I’d rather not do these things. I’m still not one of those people who enjoy running or even enjoys working out. But at this point, I’ve got quite a bit of a streak going, and I think my fear of breaking the streak is stronger than my desire to not exercise and eat well.

I don’t know if I would call any of this a habit…but I would say that exercise and watching what I eat and paying attention to my health are practices that I’ve taken on and continue to work at.

There are things in our lives that are difficult things, hard things…and we may not particularly like to do them, but we recognize that they’re good for us. We derive a benefit from them, and the benefits outweigh the costs, and so we work at these practices.

Friends, worship…is one of these practices.

Not that we don’t enjoy worship, or that worship shouldn’t be fun and uplifting…it should be those things. But gathering together for worship, whether in-person or online, it’s something we have to choose with intentionality.

As we come to the end of our worship series for the second half of the summer called Bread of Life, focusing on Jesus’ words that “I am the bread of life,” and discerning difficult questions about what feeds and nourishes and sustains us…I bet you’re ready for a break from bread. It’s like the breadstick basket at Olive Garden or the cheddar bay biscuits at Red Lobster…you’re not exactly sure how much is too much, but you definitely know when you’re there. And maybe by now, you’re feeling that way with these bread texts. And like the loaves and fish on the side of the mountain, Jesus is just the breadbasket that keeps on giving.

But take heart, friends. This indeed is the end of all these weeks of bread. And maybe in some ways you’ve needed to be reminded of the nourishing and sustaining presence of Christ in your life. It’s so easy to get caught up in the news cycle or news feed, and so maybe it takes something repetitive over and over and over again to finally breakthrough before we truly grasp it. Like a habit…or a practice that’s not yet a habit…but it just takes doing or hearing something again and again and again before we recognize and truly see its benefits.

I said it last week, worship together is what has fed and nourished and sustained us so far through this pandemic, and worship together is what will feed and nourish and sustain us going forward, through the end of this pandemic and beyond it. Like Christ feeding us with Christ’s very own body and blood, we, too, feed one another. Whether here or for your neighbor or for someone you don’t know yet, you are the body of Christ, broken, poured out, and given for the sake and for the life of the world.

And worship together isn’t just something we picked up, or something that we like to do on occasion when we feel like it, worship is a habit, it’s a practice. And you have to be committed to practices. They require intentionality. They require…practice.

Even when we might not feel like it.

“This teaching is difficult, Lord. Who can accept it?”

There are things in our lives that are difficult things, hard things…some of these things we may not even particularly like to do them, but we come to recognize that they’re good for us. We derive a benefit from them, and the benefits outweigh the costs, and so we work at these practices.

But wait, work at worship…? What about my coming to be fed, what about my enjoyment, my coming to feel good and be uplifted?

I’m so glad you asked. Not that worship isn’t those things, but worship is also more than those things.

18 months ago and long before that, worship used to be inconvenient. Largely, communities of faith hadn’t really adopted live streaming or online ways of gathering together, at least not in a super widespread way, and so for most folks, including us here at New Hope, you would have to make a conscious decision whether or not you were going to come gather together for worship. You’d have to get up, get ready, get dressed, get in your car, drive here, and show up to worship. It was a very inconvenient thing, not generally something you just woke up and decided, “Oh, I think I’ll go to worship this morning.” Worship used to require forethought and planning.

But then the pandemic hit and communities of faith everywhere, including us, scrambled to figure out how to provide a worship experience that our folks could tap into while we were being urged to stay home, keep safe, and not gather together in-person. And I’m probably biased, but I think we did a pretty good job of doing that. And I think we continue to do a pretty good job of providing multiple ways for folks to gather together in worship regardless of their vaccination status, regardless of their level of comfortability with being in close contact with other people outside of their household, even regardless if they’re physically in town or away on vacation. The pandemic forced our hands in a lot of ways and we’ve made it very convenient to worship. In-person, live stream, recorded virtual worship that you can watch on Tuesday afternoon with a glass of wine in your hand if you want… Something that used to be done in one very specific way, now broadened and made very easy and convenient to gather together…if you want.

Because see…there’s still quite a bit of intentionality behind gathering together for worship. You have to decide whether or not you’ll engage with what’s going on here, whether or not you’ll come in-person for worship or join online via the live stream or our recorded worship.

You still have to make a choice about how much you’re willing to engage. That’s always been true.

But this global pandemic laid that decision bare even moreso.

Because until the past few months, you only had a virtual option available to you, and you had to decide whether or not you were going to push play on that worship service. You had to decide if you were going to log on for Zoom Faith Formation on Sunday mornings or the Zoom Happy Hour Conversations midweek.

And the thing is, those that did, those that chose to engage and be connected, went through a lot over the past 18 months. And it wasn’t just the pandemic.

Maybe you’ll recall. Amidst a global health crisis, we also lived through an ongoing national reckoning and conversation on racial justice and #BlackLivesMatter. We went through an incredibly contentious political season and election. We witnessed a historic attack on one of our country’s great institutions of democracy.

And to be completely frank, some people opted out of the conversations that we had together as a community of faith in the midst of all these events. Some folks chose not to engage in these conversations. And that’s ok. Truly. Zero judgment at all. But those who did…those who did engage these difficult events and even more difficult conversations…they grew together. They grew, and were changed, and were transformed.

We are not the same community of faith that we were in March of 2020 before this pandemic started. And honestly, we will never be that again. Something has changed in and with this place. Values have been clarified, people have been drawn closer together, the mission we are called to by God in this place has become more focused. Friends, it’s becoming clear to those of us in leadership here at New Hope exactly what and to whom God is calling us in these times.

And this mission field looks an awful lot like our immediate neighborhood. It looks like the 41.9% people of African descent population of Missouri City, the 31.6% people of Hispanic descent population of Stafford, and the 36.6% people of Asian or Indian descent population of Sugar Land. Friends, we live in the most diverse county of the United States. How can our worship, how can our expression of faith, the very heart of who we are, our very identity, reflect our neighborhood?

These are the clarifying questions that we’re asking as Leadership and as Staff. This is what we’re working on and what we’re excited about as New Hope is resurrected out of this pandemic.

“This teaching is difficult. Who can accept it?”

Heck yeah, it’s difficult! But when has being disciples of Jesus and followers of Christ ever been easy? This is the same Jesus who says, “Give up your life to gain it.” The same Jesus whose love was shown most clearly on the cross, through the death and resurrection of Christ. Church, you don’t get to the joy of Easter Sunday without going through Good Friday…and my LORD have these past 18 months been a Good Friday!

But hear me say this…Easter. Is. Coming.

I don’t know when, I don’t know exactly what it looks like, but I trust and I have faith that it is coming. Because I trust Jesus. I have faith in Christ. I have faith in Christ who says, “I am the resurrection…and the life. I am…the bread of life.”

To which my response can only be, “To whom else can we go, Lord? You have the words of eternal life.”

It’s difficult to see the difference that’s been made. It’s difficult to see the transformation while we’re still in the midst of it. This is where faith comes in.

Council was surprised to hear that our worship numbers now are 75% of what they were pre-pandemic—which, honestly, is pretty dang good—but you wouldn’t know that if all you saw or experienced was in-person Sunday morning worship. But we have folks joining us on our live stream, folks joining us later in the week as their schedule allows through our virtual worship services…we have folks joining us from across the state and across the country, people who have never stepped foot through those doors, but they found Jesus here. They found something to love and trust, something that called them beyond themselves, into their neighborhood, living for their neighbor.

The pandemic has launched us into a completely new reality where we are wrestling with what it means to be a community of faith. How do we welcome and show hospitality to those that we can’t necessarily see? How can we ensure that we’re connecting with one another, making folks feel like part of this community, even though we might not see them as regularly?

Referencing the ones who struggle with his difficult teachings, Jesus asks the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Let’s be honest, there will be some who leave…there are some who have already left… Oh, but what of the ones who stay…?! What of the ones who are new and are caught up in this vision of what we’re doing?!

Have you seen them? Have you seen the new faces who have walked through that door over the past couple of months? Have you greeted them? Welcomed them? Extended them hospitality?

The Gospel in all of these “bread” texts from Mark and John is a kind of trust—a faith—that the bread is somehow more than bread.

Christ feeds us, yes…but it isn’t just our physical hunger that is satisfied.

Christ gives us one another.

So that our spiritual and our mental and emotional needs are met, as well.

This is a faith that takes intentionality.

A faith that requires commitment.

Like a muscle that needs to be exercised.

This is a faith that takes practice.

John 6:51-58

[Jesus said,] 51 “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”
  52 The Judeans then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” 53 So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of humanity and drink his blood, you have no life in you. 54 Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; 55 for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. 56 Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. 57 Just as the living God sent me, and I live because of God, so whoever eats me will live because of me. 58 This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Nourishing God,

When we are hungry, feed us.

When we are weary, sustain us.

Fill us with yourself,

And send us to feed, nourish, and sustain a weary world.

Amen.

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“It’s like if chemistry and cooking got together and had a kid.”

Now, I do enjoy cooking, and I was terrible at chemistry, but the marriage of the two kinda grabbed my curiosity. That, and I really enjoyed the end product, so I thought, “What the heck, I’ll give it a shot.”

It was 2011 or so and one of our friends had told me that you could make 5 gallons of beer for a fraction of the cost per bottle, and it was the economics that ultimately pushed me over the edge.

I never really went all-in on brewing my own beer, but it was a fun hobby for a good number of years. One that I keep telling myself I need to get back into, get together with some of my friends, and really just something for me to do.

Hobbies are good for us. We need things outside of work and family, things that inspire us, that challenge us, that make us feel good.

A lot of folks picked up new hobbies a little over a year ago, toward the very beginning of this global pandemic. Did you? Anyone pick up baking or breadmaking? Anyone with their own little jar of sourdough starter sitting on your kitchen windowsill? How about knitting or crocheting or quilting? Any Tom Daley fans here this morning?

When this virus was very new and we really didn’t know anything about it, the world kind of shut down. Stay at home orders went into effect, restaurants and grocery stores almost shut down, people were quarantining away from one another. It was a really strange time. It all felt very isolating. Do you remember this? Do you remember that feeling?

We had to pivot and change the way we worshiped together as well. We went from live and in-person worship to worship on a screen in less than a week. We went from an assembly gathered and nourished and sent, to a scattered assembly, brought together in worship, though still feeling disconnected, isolated, even, from one another. It’s like we had the sense that we were worshiping together with those same folks we sat in the pews with just a few weeks ago, but we couldn’t really see them, we didn’t know for sure whether or not we were worshiping together with them.

It’s been a really long 18 months, church. And I’m sorry to say that we’re not done with it yet. Whatever we will be, ultimately, on the other side of this pandemic, is still a bit of mystery. The process of coming out of a pandemic is more like a faucet that you turn a little bit at a time, from a trickle to a full flow, rather than a light switch that you just flick on to full blast.

But what an opportunity we’re presented with. What an opportunity to take stock of and analyze our ministry together and ask tough, discerning questions about how we can best be the disciples that God is calling us to be.

But here’s the thing, this is an arduous journey. This is a kind of pilgrimage that you need to pack a lunch for. Maybe a few lunches. This process of reemergence and resurrection requires sustenance. You need to be well-fed for this journey.

A month ago, we launched into our worship series for the second half of the summer focusing on bread and feeding and nourishing, and anchored in this declaration from Jesus that “I am the bread of life.” And since then, we’ve been exploring the questions about what feeds and nourishes us, what sustains us in difficult times, and ultimately, what is it that we truly hunger for.

We’ve talked about the bread of life that we encounter in communion that sustains us, the sustaining presence we can be to one another, how generosity can feed and sustain us, and how it is we are called to nourish each other and especially people who we might not know.

This morning, Jesus gets very specific and even a little oddly morbid in his description. “Feast on me,” Jesus says, “Eat my flesh and drink my blood.” We talked a little bit last week about how we are called to sustain one another as the body of Christ, and this week, we’re going to take that idea a little further and how one of the ways we are sustained and sustain one another as the body of Christ is through worship.

Worship together is what has fed and nourished and sustained us so far through this pandemic, and worship together is what will feed and nourish and sustain us going forward, through the end of this pandemic and beyond it. Like Christ feeding us with Christ’s very own body and blood, we, too, feed one another. Like I said last week, whether here or for your neighbor or for someone you don’t know yet, you are the body of Christ, broken, poured out, and given for the sake and for the life of the world.

Worship together isn’t just a hobby we picked up, or something that we like to do on occasion when we feel like it, worship is a habit, it’s a practice. And you have to be committed to practices. They require intentionality.

And we don’t always get that intentionality right. Sometimes we need reminding. Like the promises we make a newly baptized member of this body and their parents. Promises to pray for, support, nurture, and lift them up at all times, but especially when things are difficult. Church, these are promises you made to Ryan, and Samuel and Megan and Lanie. You promise to love and care for and nurture them as part of this body.

They’re the same kinds of promises we make to our young ones this morning. These tags on their backpacks aren’t just cute little keepsakes…although they are cute. Church, these are tangible reminders for them that they have an entire community of faith rallying behind them, praying for them, blessing them, praying for their success, promising to do what we can to support and encourage them in their journeys.

Friends, this is what it means to be a community of faith. It’s a purposeful and intentional commitment to one another. It’s a purposeful and intentional commitment to our neighborhood. And to the world.

Like the promises of Jesus throughout all these bread texts over the past month, this commitment, this intentionality, these promises…this is what gives life. We can feed and nourish and sustain one another because we were first fed and nourished and sustained by the one who gives himself again and again for the life of the world, given so that you would have life, and life abundant.

Hobbies are a great brain break. They’re fun, you don’t have to think very hard about them…hobbies can be rejuvenating for us.

Hobbies are good for us.

But those things we bring ourselves fully to? Those things we invest ourselves into?

Those things we do with intentionality and purpose?

Those things to which we make promises…and do with commitment?

That’s what gives life.

That’s what feeds and nourishes and sustains.

That’s what abides.

Especially when life gets difficult.

John 6:35, 41-51

35 Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever trusts in me will never be thirsty.”
  41 Then the Jewish faithful began to complain about Jesus because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” 42 They were saying amongst themselves, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, “I have come down from heaven’?” 43 Jesus answered them, “Do not complain among yourselves. 44 No one can come to me unless drawn by the one who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. 45 It is written in the prophets, ‘And they shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from God comes to me. 46 Not that anyone has seen God except the one who is from God; this one has seen God. 47 “Very truly, I tell you, whoever trusts has life everlasting. 48 I am the bread of life.

49 Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. 50 This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. 51 I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will have life everlasting; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of hope,

Our hearts and our spirits are weary.

We yearn for something sustaining.

Feed us with yourself.

Strengthen and nourish us

And call us again and send us to

Strengthen and nourish our neighbors.

Amen.

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Last week marked 4 years since Tiffany and I bought our first house. It’s a great home and we love it, and it’s certainly seen a lot in just 48 short months. I mean, less than a month after we bought it and 2 weeks after we had completely moved in, a little sprinkle, a little event named Harvey…maybe you remember…our first hurricane experience turned those quaint little side yards into something resembling the Colorado River with Class 4 rapids. And 2 years ago, we went from an occupancy of 3—us plus a cat—to an occupancy of 4…which brought with it all kinds of extra stuff—toys, a changing table, a crib, more toys, books, trucks, animals, more toys, and now a toddler bed…and now after a birthday this weekend, even more toys…

But it’s still home.

We love our home.

And I, for one, especially love our home as a place that’s ours where we can spend time together as a family, have our friends over if we want, talk with our neighbors, a place to tend to and try our best to steward well… But for me, I’m especially grateful for our home of 4 years because for the first 7 years of our shared life together, Tiffany and I lived in apartments…our first apartment in North Texas, our apartment in Chicago, and the apartment we lived in when we first moved down here. And it was a bit of a process of growth each time. We started out in a 1-bed, 1-bath 800-some-odd square foot place, but it was enough for us then. Then in Chicago, we upgraded to a 2nd bedroom, still just with the 1 bath. And finally a 2-bed, 2-bath place when we first moved to Sugar Land.

But the thing about apartment living is that you’re so close to your neighbors. Maybe there’s a shared stairwell or a few shared walls…you always feel somehow very connected to your neighbors, whether you want to or not. But we were blessed in our first 2 apartments, in North Texas, and in Chicago, because we lucked into a top-floor unit. It meant we had to go up more flights of stairs, but blessedly, we didn’t feel like the ceiling was about to come tumbling down.

But our last apartment in Sugar Land, there was just no swinging a top-floor apartment. They didn’t have one. And I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal…I met our neighbor, she was a tiny, young woman, her and her partner. They were nice, they seemed quiet… Friends, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a family of elephants parading around in high heels before…but that’s the only explanation I can come up with for what was going on on the floor above us some days. That, or our neighbors picked up Irish dancing in Dutch wooden clogs. I don’t know…but it was cacophonous.

Which is to say, I’m very grateful for our nice, quiet, lovely single-family home.

If there’s any Irish dancing happening, it’s going to be me in my own wooden clogs, thank you very much.

Living together is hard. Living with others, in close relationship, is difficult.

It’s tough work.

It requires give and take, compromise, and intentionality.

It requires you to be open and engaging and communicative and a little bit vulnerable.

Being a good neighbor, and living well together, requires that you bring your fullest self to the relationship.

If we’re going to have and enjoy the kind of life God intends for us, we have to bring something to that table, as well.

In our Gospel reading this morning, the local folks get incensed with Jesus for suggesting that he himself is somehow comparable to the manna that came down from the heavens and sustained the Israelites in their 40-year sojourn out of Egypt and to the Promised Land. “I am the bread…of life,” Jesus says, “Those who come to me and trust in me will never be hungry or thirsty. I’m the bread that came down from heaven.”

“Ummm…we know your mom, and your dad…you didn’t come from heaven,” the folks reply.

But Jesus presses, “Your ancestors ate that manna in the wilderness, and they still died. I am the living bread from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will have life everlasting, whoever has faith in me will have life everlasting.”

It’s interesting, your Bible translates these phrases as “eternal life” or “living forever” but that’s not actually what’s going on here. It’s not that simple of a translation. We’ve become so preoccupied with this idea of living forever that we get caught up in this pattern of death-avoidance. We’ve become so focused on what happens after we die that we neglect to truly live in the present.
But I want to suggest to you that everlasting life has more to do with a kind and quality of life here and now, and has much less to do with the state of your souls for eternity. Because what if everlasting life is the kind of life in which all have their needs met, all are fed, and all are able to live life in such a way that their life isn’t cut short before they’ve had the opportunity to live a full life? What if the zoen aionion—what gets translated as “eternal life” but is perhaps better translated as “the life of the ages”—what if Jesus is talking about what and how we live in the here and now, and not some far off distant place after our bodies are decomposing in the ground?

Because that’s the kind of bread that makes a difference, church. That’s the kind of bread that feeds and nourishes. That’s the kind of bread that sustains weary bodies and spirits.

Jesus says, “The bread that I give for the life of the world is my flesh, is my body.” It is the body of Christ that is given for the life of the world.

And if your ears are perking up, church, you are the body of Christ. You are Christ’s flesh and blood. You are the hands and feet and heart of Christ that is given to and for the world.

And when seen this way, then, church, your responsibility is to the world, is to your neighbor. Your obligation is to be broken, poured out, and shared with those who are in need. To be a disciple of Jesus is to allow yourself to be broken and shared and given so that those in need and the whole world would have life everlasting, life in all it’s fullness.

Living well together is difficult work. It requires compromise, give and take. “We are members of one another,” the author of Ephesians writes. Living well together requires us to be vulnerable with one another, naming our needs, naming our hopes and our desires. And I think when we do that. what you’ll find is that we share much more in common with one another than what seeks to drive us apart…certainly when we name and share our hopes and dreams. Just in these times alone, what each of us wants is to feel safe, is to be healthy, is for our families to be safe and healthy and well. And if we can be vulnerable enough to name those hopes and dreams, we can start to see that a shared life together means making certain choices, giving up certain closely-held convictions in the interest of the health and safety of our neighbors. Are you following me, church?

It’s not a question of political opinion, church…it’s doing what is needed from us by our neighbor because that’s what we are called to do, by God, as disciples of Jesus.

You are the ones given to feed and nourish one another. We sustain one another as we are broken and poured out, given to and for one another.

It’s a difficult thing, living well together, but we are fed, nourished, and sustained by the one was first given, broken, and poured out for us.

When we share communion, it’s so much more than a meal done in remembrance of Jesus and the meal he shared with his friends. Communion is an act of nourishing and strengthening. Communion is a reminder that we—this community—we are the bread that is broken and the wine that is poured; we are the ones given for the life of the world.

In this meal, you are invited to receive that which you are called to be.

And you are called to be that which you have received, the very body of Christ, given for the life of the world.

Friends, be nourished and strengthened here.

So that you will be fed and sent to nourish and strengthen others.

John 6:24-35

24 When the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were beside the sea, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus.
  25 When they found Jesus on the other side of the sea, they said to him, ‘Rabbi, when did you come here?’ 26 Jesus 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. 27 Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of humanity will give you. For it is the Son of humanity upon whom God has set God’s seal.” 28 Then they said to Jesus, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” 29 Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you trust, that you have faith in the one whom God has sent.” 30 So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and have faith in you? What work are you performing? 31 Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘The one sent by God gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” 32 Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is God who gives you the true bread from heaven. 33 For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 34 They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”
  35 Jesus 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.”

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Nourishing God,

Our stomachs ache and we hunger.

We hunger after things that fill, but do not satisfy.

Feed us this morning.

Nourish us with your self, that which is sustaining,

And strengthen us to share you, to share our selves,

With a starving world.

Amen.

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I’ve told y’all the story before about I’m a percussionist, but I wasn’t really supposed to be a percussionist. Do y’all remember this? I was going into 5th grade and they were essentially just asking who wanted to be in which sections and play which instruments. And I know this will come as a shocker to all of you, but I was talking and goofing off with my friend and not paying attention, so I missed the opportunity to raise my hand to play the instrument I actually wanted to play, which was trumpet. But I also didn’t want to play trombone or tuba, so I ended up stuck with percussion because it was either that or nothing.

Have you ever been given something that was intended as a gift, but you weren’t really sure about it at first, but then later the gift you were given turns out to be way better than you could have imagined?

That was this for me. I didn’t really want to play percussion, but I ended up liking it pretty well, and then I kept doing it, I kept playing percussion in junior high, and high school, and even in college, and it ended up being something that I fell in love with. I really love playing drums.

But not only that, but if I hadn’t found a passion for drums and music, I wouldn’t have been in band in college, and I wouldn’t have met Tiffany, and we wouldn’t be married.

But not only that, but if I hadn’t met Tiffany and we wouldn’t have married, we wouldn’t have Oliver.

So, see…this one tiny decision…this one seemingly insignificant thing…ended up being an incredible gift that is so much better than I could have even imagined.

I thought I wanted to play trumpet, but having ended up playing and finding a passion for percussion continues even 30 years later to have incalculably profound effects on my life.

The people in our gospel this morning, the crowds in John’s gospel, are experiencing this same phenomenon of not being sure if the gift they’ve received is actually a gift.

Last week, Jesus sat them down in a clearing on the side of a mountain and taught them and fed them, and then Jesus went away. But that gift was so incredible, that bread was so good, they wanted more. “Give us more of this, Jesus.” So they chased down Jesus and the disciples and demand that he do it again. “Do the thing, again, Jesus…make the bread into more bread. We’re hungry…do it again…feed us. We want the gift you gave us before.”

“I’m all out of loaves,” Jesus says, showing them his empty hands out of his pockets. “I don’t have any more dinner rolls and fish, but I’m here. You can have me. I’m the bread of life.”

“Ehhh……I don’t really know what that means, so if you could just give us more bread, that’d be great, and then we can go.” If you remember last week, the people wanted to take Jesus and make him their Bread King. See, food was really hard to come by in 1st-century Palestine under Roman imperial occupation, so someone who could make food just appear was the kind of gift you wanted to keep around. “Do the thing again…the thing with the bread.”

But Jesus says, “I’m not that kind of king. This isn’t that kind of gift.”

We’re in the thick of our worship series for the second half of the summer called Bread of Life, focusing on these bread verses, and especially on what Jesus says in our Gospel this morning, “I am the bread of life.”

It’s an unusual declaration and one that we’ll spend the next few weeks unpacking. But there’s bread…like the bread given to all those people on the side of the mountain…the bread that fills hungry bellies…and then there’s this other bread, the bread of life…the bread that fills…something else…you get the sense that this bread is for satisfying some kind of deeper hunger.

What do you hunger for, church?

What do you really hunger for?

What does your stomach groan and ache for?

The thing is, I think a good many of us would lift up stuff and things. We hunger for that raise. We ache after that extra bedroom or that pool or that new gourmet kitchen. We yearn for a promotion or to be noticed or fancy friends who invite us over to their house full of things we only dream about.

Look, I do, too. I’m no different.

But what if we take Jesus at his word to hunger after something else?

“I’m the bread of life,” Jesus says, “Hunger after me.”

Ok…yes…great… What does that mean…?

What if hungering after Jesus means to allow our stomachs to ache for the same things that Jesus hungered after? What if our hungering after Jesus means to follow Jesus into those places of the world that make us uncomfortable, that challenge us, and that demand something of us? What if hungering after Jesus pushes us into a deeper relationship not just with our neighbors that we know well, but those we don’t know well, our neighbors at the grocery store, the ones who live around us, the ones who don’t look like you, think like you, speak like you, or vote like you?

What if hungering after Jesus means that you have so much care and concern for your neighbor’s wellness and well-being that you’d sacrifice your own preferences and desires if it meant that your neighbor could safely enjoy the life God intends for them, life and life abundant.

Last week, Jesus gave all those people food, yes, but he also reminded them that they are given to each other. Last week loaves and fish were multiplied into a feast of abundance, but the people who were gathered on that mountainside shared what they had with their neighbor until all were fed. Not only did everyone have their needs met, Jesus’ multiplying miracle inspired such generosity that there were baskets full of leftovers.

One of my biggest learnings over the past 18 months of this pandemic is the same thing I’ve preached as long as I’ve stood in pulpits, which is that we are so much more interconnected and interdependent on one another than we realize. We try and pretend as if my decisions affect me and me alone, and nothing I do has any bearing or impact on you. Church, this is a lie. This pandemic, and especially the way the decisions of one or a few have such far-reaching ramifications, have laid that bare in an extraordinary fashion. And it’s astounding to me that it feels like we still struggle to grasp this truth.

Your choices, your decisions, your actions affect your neighbor in profound ways. Does your stomach ache for your neighbor’s well-being as much as it does for your own?

The author of Ephesians pleads with you: “I beg you, lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called. With all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another…in love…making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.”

The gifts God gives to God’s people are for the building up of the body of Christ.

These are surprising gifts.

The gift of your neighbor is a surprising gift.

The gift of giving of yourself for our neighbor is a surprising gift.

Because what you’ll find as you pour yourself out and give of yourself for the sake of your neighbor, is that in emptying you are filled…in giving up, you gain.

What a gift.

John 6:1-21

1 Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. 2 A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. 3 Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. 4 Now the Passover, the festival of the Jewish people, was near. 5 When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” 6 Jesus said this to test Philip, for he himself knew what he was going to do. 7 Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” 8 One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, 9 “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” 10 Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. 11 Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. 12 When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” 13 So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. 14 When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”
  15 When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.
  16 When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, 17 got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. 18 The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. 19 When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. 20 But Jesus said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” 21 Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of abundance,

So often we feel like not enough.

Like we don’t have enough.

Like we aren’t enough.

Bless our not enough-ness this morning.

Bless it and multiply our gifts and abilities.

Use us to feed your world.

Amen.

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I’m not sure what it is about the summer that things just feel lighter to me. At least in the life of the church, we take this big long stretch after Pentecost, and the changes to worship week-to-week don’t feel quite so rapid-fire. Maybe being caught up in the program calendar that’s tied so closely to the academic calendars of the area school districts has something to do with it, too.

Busy-ness-wise, summer’s just an easier time to find time to get away for a vacation.

Whatever the reason, this summer has been a welcome load off of my shoulders. Especially after the past 18 months we’ve all had, I think most of us have needed to get out and stretch our legs a little bit. A lot of folks have taken vacations that were put on hold or took extended time away to be with family. Times and spaces that are regenerating and nourishing for the soul. All great things. Really living into that rest, respite, and sabbath I was talking about last week.

As a reminder, we’re in the midst of a worship series for the second half of the summer called Bread of Life, where the gospel readings are all centered on bread and feeding and nourishing and Jesus referring to himself as the bread of life. And within this series we’re wrestling with the questions of what feeds us and nourishes us and sustains us, especially in those times when we find that we ourselves are the hungry ones. How can we be filled up, so that we’re full and sustained and energized to be sent out to fill others?

Last week, we talked about rest that nourishes and fills us up.

This week, how can generosity sustain and nourish us?

Another reason I enjoy the summer is because of all the memories that pop up for me on Facebook. Do y’all look at these? I think it’s cool to see what I was doing last year, 2, 3, 5, 9 years ago. The summer’s always fun for me, especially within the last 5 years, because 4 years ago, we welcomed some of our friends from our sister congregation El Buen Pastor in El Salvador, and 2 years ago, I was part of the small group that went down to visit them in San Salvador and Usulután.

Really great memories, but one of the things that have stuck with me since 2019 and being in El Salvador—and I’ve found this to be true, not just in El Salvador, but other places around the world, and even here in the U.S.—it’s so striking to me that it’s so often the folks with the least, materially speaking, that are the most generous. Maybe that’s just the perception, because when you have very little, materially, what you do give to others is often seen as extravagant and overabundant.

But one night in particular in 2019, we went to Pastor Julio’s house. And Pastor Julio lives very near to a bunch of his family and everyone had been invited over for dinner. But the next day was also Sunday and there was going to be a special lunch for a few First Communions they had. So on Saturday when we went to Pastor Julio’s house, they were making pupusas for dinner that night and the lunch the next day, and church, I can’t tell you, I’ve never seen just gigantic tubs of masa. Like, there were literally hundreds of pupusas being made. It was incredible.

And one of the things I kept coming back to in my mind was that here was a family, who already give so much of themselves for the 4 communities of El Buen Pastor, here were families who likely pooled resources to get everything they needed so that people in their community were fed.

They didn’t ask if that money would be better spent somewhere else. They didn’t ask whose hunger was greater. They didn’t ask who was worthy.

They made food. Good food. A lot of it.

They took what they had and used their resources so that people in their community were fed.

Because here’s the truth, church…you’re all hungry.

Whether you’re 1 of 9 people in the U.S. experiencing food insecurity, or your emotional needs are being starved, or your stomach is groaning for spiritual fulfillment…what’s true, church, is that we are people who are starving, who are begging someone to share just a crumb with us.

And when Jesus gets involved, watch out, because that “just a crumb” can be a belly-bursting feast of abundance where all are fed and each has their needs met. Especially when each of us brings what we have to the table, offering it to share, and giving it to God to bless and use for God’s purposes and do with it what God does…using what we have and what we offer to feed folks who are starving…including you, dear people.

And you might feel like what you have to share isn’t that much. You may feel like you don’t have much to offer.

Nonsense.

One of my favorite lines about this comes from Lutheran pastor and theologian Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber. She was doing a book tour with the release of her first book and I got to go hear her speak in Chicago. She read some excerpts and when she was talking about her own sense of call and identity, just before she decided to pursue this pastor thing, she said that it was as if God had asked her, “So, Nadia, whaddaya got?” She says, “I took my hands out of my pockets and looked at them. ‘Nothing,’ I mumbled, ‘I’ve got some change, a paperclip, and pocket lint. I’ve got nothing.’” “Nothing?! That’s perfect!” God replies, “Now THAT I can work with.”

Nothing is God’s favorite material to work with, she says.

Nothing…not much…those feelings of emptiness and inadequacy…dear friends, your not much…your nothing…that’s God’s favorite material to work with.

That’s the miracle of five loaves and two fish. Not only are people fed and their needs met, but there are leftovers! 12 whole baskets full!

Generosity is a multiplying thing. Generosity begets more generosity. When someone is generous with you, you’re much more likely to be generous with others. And not only that, but when you adopt a posture of generosity in one area of your life, you’ll find yourself extending that same spirit of generosity in other areas of your life. Generosity grows and multiplies…like a weed. It’s contagious. It’s exponential.

Generosity feeds us.

This pandemic has clarified and brought to the forefront a lot of needs in our communities. And churches were no exception. There were times last year, especially toward the beginning of the pandemic, that we were worried about what would happen if things just suddenly dried up. But in those first months right after the start of the pandemic, something amazing happened. People started giving more of their offering, fulfilling their commitments earlier in the year, hoping to help keep us afloat. And it absolutely did. And things evened out, but even still we ended 2020 on budget.

And as this pandemic drags on and on and on, it gets harder and harder to keep going back to that well. Anxieties ratchet up and we all start to wonder if we’ll have “enough.” We’ve had some pretty lean months in 2021, but June was a really great month for offerings. July’s not looking stellar, but I trust that things will even out. I trust that with God, there will always be enough.

Last story…we’ve been holding off launching our Capital Campaign to the entire congregation since the beginning of the pandemic. But since we started actively receiving gifts toward our campaign, we’ve had folks who have been giving regularly to it. Tiffany and I sat down last year, we’re budget people, and we were working out what we thought we could regularly contribute. “What if we just took what we regularly give to our offering and give that same amount to the Capital Campaign?” I said. “What if we just doubled it?”

And so we did. We doubled our monthly giving, half to the General Offering and half to the Capital Campaign. Because that’s how much we believe and we trust in what God is doing in this place. That’s how much we want to see New Hope flourish.

But here’s the thing…there’s always been enough. It was a risk, sure. But we’ve always had enough.

Church, incredible things happen when you share what you have, offer what you can to God, and ask God to bless it and use it for God’s purposes…to do with it what God does…feed folks who are starving.

Generosity is a nourishing and filling thing.

There always seems to be enough.

Even when what we start with is just a crumb.