Our gospel passage this past Sunday was a familiar one. So familiar, in fact, that it’s found its way into everyday speech. When someone can do no wrong, or seems successful at everything he does, we might say he “walks on water.” If someone were to show up tomorrow and claim to be Jesus returned, I’d take him to a pool to see what he could do! We know who walks on water. We’d recognize him instantly.
But the disciples don’t recognize him at first. They’ve been fighting strong headwinds all night, and when they see a figure coming to them on the water their immediate response is fear. Mark’s explanation is simple: Jesus had just fed 5,000 with a few loaves and fish, but the disciples’ hearts were still hard.
This story is particularly striking, because when they arrive at the shore the people of Gennesaret recognize Jesus immediately! The disciples had hoped to evade the unknown figure who terrified them, but these people respond by bringing their sick to be healed.
This contrast sets up an important question for us: when the winds are against us, or even when we’re in the middle of a storm, can we recognize Jesus? The people on the shore did not recognize Jesus because of their advanced holiness. They were simply blessed to see him by the clear light of day. The disciples, however, knew his character and his power. They should have known him, but on the dark, blustery water the hardness of their hearts clouded their eyes.
If you struggle to recognize Jesus in the dark, when the winds are against you, ask the Lord to soften your heart. A hard heart is not something to hide or be ashamed of. Hardness of heart can mean a lot of things. It can mean a willful opposition to God, or purposeful disobedience to his word. But a heart can be hardened against its will. A heart can be hardened by prolonged grief, unmet longings, loss, hardship, or suffering. Sometimes a heart hardens because we want to protect ourself from pain, or danger. A hard heart can feel like a wall of safety, especially in those too frequent times when the heart itself is the source of our biggest storms.
The fact is that hardness of heart is something we all face. That often hidden reality comes to the surface so easily when life feels stormy. It can blind us to the presence of the only one who can calm those winds with a word. It’s even truer when the storms are on the inside, not just the outside. Ask the Lord to soften your heart, and to bring peace to the storm. Know that even when you don’t see him, he is there: “Take heart, it is I. Do not be afraid” (Mark 6:50).
Justin
Scripture Reflections
Our Gospel reading on Sunday was the feeding of the 5000 (Mk. 6:30-44). Of all the miracles Jesus performed, only this and the resurrection are recorded in all four gospels, indicating that this event is more important than we realize. This realization is strengthened when we remember that God had prepared his people for this miracle through the gift of manna in the wilderness.
Throughout the Old Testament, God acted in ways that were preparatory, so that his people would understand the Messiah when he came. We call these actions types—living pictures that lay the groundwork for a greater reality to come in Jesus Christ. Manna is one of those types, designed to help the Jews (and us!) recognize the feeding of the 5000, and in turn, the Eucharist. This means that Jesus wasn’t just echoing the story of God providing manna in the wilderness. Manna is the lesser incident, the preparatory type, and the 5000 the greater. The gift of manna should have indicated to the disciples that when Jesus fed the 5000, he was God-in-the-flesh, feeding his people miraculously as they journeyed from slavery to salvation.
But this should cause us to wonder why God is so concerned about feeding his people! Why did he give a tree of life? (Yet another type!) Why was food the place of testing for Adam and Eve? (And another!) Why manna, rather than some natural means of food in the desert? Why the feeding of the 5000? Why the Eucharist? Why is God so concerned with feeding us?
On the one hand, these incidents demonstrate to us that God is concerned with our bodily needs. On the other, they demonstrate that the needs of the body are tied to the spirit. Manna is the “bread of angels” (Psalm 78:25), and the Eucharist is more than just bread for the body; it is the presence of Christ for the spirit. In God’s economy, body, soul, and spirit are tied together in food. But these questions drive us to something deeper, because even the Eucharist points to a greater reality to come. One day, we will sit with God at a banquet table—a wedding feast, the true Passover—in the new kingdom. We will feast with him, face-to-face. Again, we are forced to ask, “Why does he want to feed us? Why does he want to eat with us?”
The answer to this question is perhaps beyond us, yet in it we can see God’s love. From the beginning of the Bible to the end, God has been painting a picture for us. A picture of provision, a picture of sustenance, but even more significantly, a picture of invitation. He wants us—he wants you and me—at his table! He wants to host us, to feed us, to show us the abundance of his goodness through food. As you go about your day today, as you traverse the complexities and difficulties of life, let the refrain that comes to your mind again and again be simple: Yet God has invited me to his table! And as you sit down to eat this evening, let the prayer that comes to your lips be equally simple: May my table be full of the presence of God!
Steven+
Scripture Reflections
Usually our newsletter devotions come from Sunday’s readings, but the boss is out of town and we’re taking some liberties! Today’s comes from John 2, the first passage in our new young adult study.
Jesus performed seven miracles in the first eleven chapters of the Gospel of John. He healed the dying, restored the crippled, gave sight to the blind, fed the hungry, and even raised Lazarus from the dead. His power on display showed that he has authority over all creation, even death itself. He didn’t do these signs to prove anything to anyone. Rather, the signs pointed toward Jesus’ mission—he came to die and rise again, and through his resurrection to restore all things. That’s why most of the signs were literally life-saving.
But the first sign is different. Jesus is at a wedding, and the bridegroom didn’t bring enough wine for the guests. The only thing dead here is the party. No one is in danger. No one needs to be rescued. The only thing at stake is the reputation of a poor guy who didn’t plan well. That might be a bigger deal than we think it is, but it’s not life and death either. Still, we need to take note. The Son of God is on this cosmic mission, but the very first thing he does is quietly lift one man’s impending shame by turning water into wine.
John follows this sign with Jesus’ cleansing of the temple. These two scenes seem so different from each other, but John goes out of his way to connect them. There are several reasons for this, but one very quietly ties Jesus’ motives in both together.
After Jesus drove out the traders and money-changers, his disciples remembered a passage of scripture: “Zeal for your house will consume me.” This line comes from Psalm 69:9. That psalm is the prayer of someone who is unjustly drowning in shame and disgrace:
“The flood sweeps over me.”
“What I did not steal must I now restore?”
“It is for your sake that I have borne reproach.”
“Dishonor has covered my face.”
“Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck.”
It’s easy to dismiss shame as something we ought to be able to deal with ourselves. It can seem so inconsequential, especially when we compare it to matters of life, death, cosmic renewal, etc., but it’s at the core of Jesus’ mission. He will obliterate our shame by burying himself in it on our behalf. He will replace it with the glory of resurrection life. In John 2 it’s a quiet point, but it’s a strong one. Let that whisper of peace in Christ override all the world’s chatter and accusations today.
Justin