"I'm hungry," I would say, coming in from playing outside with my sister. I would be remembering that last spoonful of mint chocolate chip stashed toward the back of the freezer, or be wondering if there was enough milk for a bowl of honey nut cheerios...
I hoped my dad would keep it simple and tell me to just find something from the kitchen.
But... without even blinking, my dad would say, "Fix yourself a peanut butter sandwich."
Ugh.
In our family I was the only one who seemed to lament that red five gallon can of Peter Pan Extra Crunchy sitting on the top of the fridge. Between every day school lunches and regular snacks of the spread with crackers or celery,
never 'creamy' mind you, I couldn't have imagined a more unpleasant prospect.
"But I don't want a peanut butter sandwich," I'd say back, hoping some mercy would provide another alternative. His response was always resolute.
"Then you're not really hungry."
A pastor friend once described hunger as one of those qualities that, if expressed in our lives, would undoubtedly open a door to experience the intensity of God's spirit in a profoundly deeper way.
It's something we sing about. It's something we pray for.
But sometimes I wonder if we knew what hunger truly meant,
would we really be...
are we really hungry?
So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.
As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me.
This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.”
-- John 6:53-58
The disciples concluded that this was a hard word. It's hard even now. We want to tell people the meaning without saying the words. We grumble about what He said, how He said it, how we think it would be better... looking for a way we can be satisfied.
Many disciples that had journeyed with Him for so long left Him. The answer was not what they were hoping.
Many of us neglect going deeper, because the answer is not the one we want. It's not the sweet creamy treat we have in mind. It's not even an unappealing, but somehow more palatable smooth version of the only option. We cry out that we are hungry, but we choose to starve, even though a feast has been laid out before us.
Because the spread that really satisfies
involves suffering, brokenness and death.
Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.”
And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.
-- Matt 26:26-28
I imagine the twelve in the Upper Room that night. Lounging together, they would remember with unleavened bread and full cups of wine. They recalled the Exodus. They shared in a feast remembering the joy of deliverance with all the solemness of leaving everything behind.
When we partake of the bread and wine, we acknowledge the fullness of what it means to be broken.
His body, broken... so we may live. His blood spilled... so we may be forgiven.
We are His body now. Are we hungry enough for His Kingdom come on earth as it is in Heaven to die to ourselves? To love without hesitation or reservation? To give of generously ourselves regardless of the cost? To leave everything behind?
Are we willing to be broken?
Sometimes I think we can be so frightened by the word "suffering" when we talk of "sharing in His sufferings" that we miss the biggest implication...
Sharing means we are with Him in it.
Let that sink in.
We are "with Him."
We are "with Him" in our suffering, brokenness, and death to ourselves. And because we are with Him, we also find comfort (2 Cor 1:5). We find hope. We find life.
There is no suffering bigger than Christ. There is no enemy stronger than Christ.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
-- Psalm 23:5
He has promised us a feast, and He has delivered. But that feast is His body... broken.
This is the feast laid before us. It is full with bitter herbs and maror. It brings about tears as well as laughter. But it is the one feast that brings true deliverance from all enemies.
It is the victory of His love.
Are we hungry enough to eat of it?
to not just nibble, but banquet upon it?
Am I? Are you?
I'm keeping it fresh and keeping it real with Bonnie and others over at Faith Barista.
