Faithful Stubbornness that Clings to Jesus - Matthew 15: 21-28

Have you stood in the footsteps of this unknown, unnamed Canaanite mother, begging, pleading to God, only to have it feel like God is against you? Perhaps not so much with a child who has a demon, but perhaps one who is critically ill, or your spouse, or a parent; perhaps it was your own self with a heavy diagnosis or even fighting for your life; perhaps you were the most recent round of layoffs or outright fired unexpectedly. Whatever it was, your world was rocked, turned upside down, inside out, and every which way but loose. As a child of God, you know – as the hymn says – to take it to the Lord in prayer. You practically wore out the knees in your pants and put bald spots in the carpet from where you knelt at night beside your bed, you wore the finish off the chair at your dining room table where you sat, Bible in front of you, calling God’s name, seeking help, praying for an answer. You prayed, invoked, cried out, wept, sought an answer, yearning for just a word of hope, encouragement, asking for the Lord’s hands to be gracious and merciful to you, your family, your loved one, and instead you get a hand held up: Stop.

That doesn’t make sense, does it? We think of Jesus’ hands and the many, many times they were extended in mercy and compassion. Just a few weeks ago, we read about Him having compassion on a hungry crowd and feeding them, those hands breaking and blessing bread and fish to feed 5000 plus people. Last Sunday, we read of Jesus’ hand dipping into the wind-tossed waters to rescue a sinking, drowning, faith-shaken disciple who only a moment earlier asked to come out to Jesus on those same waters. We think of His hands held in blessing even as He is ascending into heaven, hands delivering words of encouragement and hope to seeing-yet-not-understanding disciples. We think of these moments, moments that show us love that is without end, mercy without extinction, compassion without limits. If He has compassion - even over His enemies while being crucified!!! – why is His hand held against me?

People sometimes speak about the silence of God, and how terrifying that can be. True. I’ve been there. But even harder is when it seems God isn’t merely silent, but actually standing against you.

Just consider this Canaanite mother. Although she is outside the family of Abraham, she comes to Jesus with the prayer of faith used by God’s people for millennia: “Have mercy on me.” Her request is actually not for her, but for her demon-possessed daughter. Surely, the mother understandably thinks, this Jesus who has been merciful in healing others, would also be merciful to my own child! Yet, Jesus is silent. The disciples shoo her away like a mutt sniffing at ankles, and it seems that even Jesus is agreeing. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel,” He answers – and, notice, He is speaking to the disciples, not the woman! If it were in our modern culture, I could see Him nodding and throwing His shoulders up and adding, “What can I do?” Refusing to take silence for an answer, she rushes around, gets in front of Jesus, and falls to her knees, pleading for a favorable answer for her daughter: Lord, help me. This time, she is flatly and directly dismissed by Jesus Himself. “It is not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”  Don’t think Jesus is calling her an unflattering name. He’s using a powerful image to describe her place as a Canannite, as a woman, as someone who is outside the family of the children of Israel. Regardless how it’s intended, it’s as if his hand is held up – Stop! This isn’t for you! Think of how I treat my dog when she wants the pizza crust, and you get the idea.

So, what does faith do when the object of faith – Jesus – seems to be behaving in a way that is so contra what we expect, so opposite of what we know of Him and His character? What do you do when it seems Jesus is being unfaithful to who He is as the Son of God?

The book of Hebrews defines faith as, “The substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.” We speak of faith in two ways: a noun, the Christian faith, the objective and unchanging truth of Scripture as we summarize in the Creeds; and a Christian’s faith, the verb, the subjective believing of what the Scriptures say which, at times, ebbs and flows, hot and cold. In both aspects, the Christian faith and a Christian’s faith, faith rests in the invisible working of God for our salvation and the culmination of all things in the person and work of Jesus. Thus, the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.  That is the challenge of Christianity; that is the challenge of the Christian faith.

While both the Christian faith and the Christian’s faith rest in the invisible, the Invisible is the very promises of God, all which are found in fulfillment in Christ Jesus. And Jesus is not a figment of the imagination, a will o’ the whisp idea that someone came up with. He is God’s Son who entered into time and took on human flesh to dwell among us. According to His human flesh, He experienced everything you and I know including – back to our theme today – including when He prayed that, if possible, His upcoming cup of suffering might be taken away and His own Father seemed to say, “No; stop; away from Me, dear Son. Away…away…away!!!” A short time later, Jesus cried out to the Father, “Why have you forsaken me?” Where was the still, small voice that spoke to Elijah or the voice that thundered on Sinai? Of all, Jesus should have been heard in His holiness and purity!

This was for you. He not only died the sinner’s death, completely contaminated with our sins, He also endured the silence of God, the separation from the Father on your behalf, suffering hell on earth for you. For three days, the silence of God echoed from heaven to earth. The morning of the Resurrection, the silence was broken by the angel’s proclamation, “He is not here; He is risen as He said.” That declaration stands as evidence that the Father accepted His Son’s death for us, assuring the our sins are forgiven and uniting us with the Father through Christ Jesus. That union, then, means that the Father will never turn His back on us and the Son’s nail-marked hands are never held against us.

This is most certainly true. Yet, there are those moments in life when it seems as though God is silent, as if Jesus’ hands are held out against us. So, the question remains: what does faith do when the object of faith – Jesus – seems to be behaving in a way that is so contra what we expect, so opposite of what we know of Him and His character? What do you do when it seems Jesus is being unfaithful to who He is as the Son of God? “It’s not right to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.”

I like the way the poet, Jan Richardson [1], helps us understand how faith doggedly clings to the promises of God, even when it seems the hands of the Lord are held out against us.

Stubborn Blessing

Don’t tell me no.

I have seen you
feed the thousands,
seen miracles spill
from your hands
like water, like wine,
seen you with circles
and circles of crowds
pressed around you
and not one soul
turned away.

Don’t start with me.

I am saying
you can close the door
but I will keep knocking.
You can go silent
but I will keep shouting.
You can tighten the circle
but I will trace a bigger one
around you,
around the life of my child
who will tell you
no one surpasses a mother
for stubbornness.

I am saying
I know what you
can do with crumbs
and I am claiming mine,
every morsel and scrap
you have up your sleeve.
Unclench your hand,
your heart.
Let the scraps fall
like manna,
like mercy
for the life
of my child,
the life of
the world.

Don’t you tell me no.

Don’t misread this: yes, the woman wanted her daughter to be healed, but more than that, she was willing to sit at the base of the table and receive whatever little bits of grace the Lord has to offer her. Her faith was great. It was not great because the woman thought she could wear Jesus down by nagging Him enough, or if she used the right words, or if she could just pull hard enough at His heart strings. Her faith rested in who she knew who Jesus is – even when it seemed His hands were held out against her. She knew Him to be both Lord and Son of David. He was Israel’s Messiah who comes with such abundance that there were leftovers for someone like her, a woman from Canaan. And, out of His great generosity, His mercy overflows outward from Israel to her, a Canaanite woman who knew she deserved nothing except by God’s grace which made her welcome at the table of Jesus.

 You cling to what you know about Jesus, not what it seems, but what you know is objectively true of His mercy and grace. “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” It’s as if she’s saying, Jesus, even the leftovers of your compassion are enough for me. In other words, you cling to what is true about the mercy, love and compassion of Jesus, even if you don’t see or feel how it can be true.

By grace, through faith in Christ, Jesus’ hand that seemed to be held up saying, “No, I don’t think so,” becomes a hand that is held up in blessing. The hidden mercy of Christ is revealed. Baptized into Christ, we are welcomed to the table, no longer dogs worthy of just the scraps but of the finest of bread and wine, the rich fulness of Christ’s body and blood. In answer to your prayer, “Lord have mercy on me,” here, the Son of David welcomes you, not as dogs, but as Sons and Daughters of the King: come and eat. The table is prepared.

 

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[1] Stubborn Blessing « The Painted Prayerbook

Roots and Foundations: The Beginning of the 2026-2027 School Year -- Colossians 2: 6-7

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The theme for this school year is “Rooted” based on Colossians 2: 6-7: “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.”

In just a few more days, roughly 72 hours, St. Paul’s Lutheran School will begin a new school year, continuing a century of Lutheran, Christian education in Enid. If we could trade places with each other, traveling through time, all of us – from 1926 and 2026 - might be surprised at the differences. They would probably be surprised at how the footprint of the school building has changed, and they would likely be somewhere between amazed and frightened at students using iPads and Promethian Boards instead of chalk and blackboard. I wonder how our kids would feel about classroom discipline back then, or the lack of air conditioning, and no internet access. Then again, we might all be surprised at similarities. I suspect the kids back then complained just as much as today about having to get out of bed and go to school instead of spending a day playing and goofing around with friends. And while educational standards, techniques and methods have all changed dramatically since then, one thing remains the same: we preach and teach Christ crucified. From the morning bell to the dismissal in the afternoon, the Jesus we teach with our mouths and demonstrate with our lives is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And, while those kids from 1926 might be blown out of the water that they can hear the Bible being read to them on-line, they would be able to sit right next to our students reading on their iPad and say, “Amen, amen: this is so.” And, if we were to ask the pastor and teacher in 1926, Pastor J.H. Holtmann and Mr. A.W. Leitz, and the pastor and principal in 2026, “What is the purpose of St. Paul’s Lutheran school?”, I would think all four of us would say, “That the children we teach, and their parents, might hear of Jesus, believe in Him, and receive eternal life through the death and resurrection of Christ.” May it be so; amen.

And, if we were to travel even further back in time to the first century AD, and ask St. Paul to help us identify the reason for this Lutheran school that bears his name, he might offer to us these words: “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.”

It’s helpful to remember that when we read the Epistles, from Romans thru Jude, we are literally reading someone else’s mail. Each of the epistles – which means “letter,” by the way – was written to a church or, in some cases, a person, to address something that these first-century Christians were facing. Sometimes, it was a word of encouragement in the face of persecution. Other times, it was to correct false teachings or behaviors within the church. And, other times, it was to better understand how the church was different than the world around it because of the good news of Jesus.  The Holy Spirit saw fit that these letters have been preserved for us and, recognizing His inspiration of those sacred writers, the Church then assembled them into what is today is over half of the New Testament canon.

Paul’s letter to the Colossians is one of those epistles. Paul writes because he has heard from Epaphras, his fellow evangelist and the pastor at Colossae, that the young church was struggling against some of the philosophies and teachings of the community which were threatening to make inroads into the church and compete against the message of the cross of Jesus. There seemed to be three main problems, three false teachings, that were being spread. Together, they created a strange admixture of Judaism and Gentile religions which, together, were pressing into the church. From Judaism came the idea that that people had to follow all of their religious rituals, festivals, and even sabbath law to be a proper Christian. From the Gentiles came something called asceticism, a type of stoicism, where people were taught to deny simple gifts of God, like food or living together or even marriage, because these things, it was said, got in the way of achieving higher levels of thinking. But, the most dangerous one of all was a false teaching that actually found its roots back in Genesis, insinuating there was a secret wisdom of God that He was hiding, so Christians were to seek out ways to find the missing truths. In a sense, it wasn’t far off from how satan himself tempted Eve, insinuating that God was withholding what “evil” was.

These sound rather nebulous, at first. What’s wrong with tradition? What’s so bad about minimalism? What’s so bad about seeking deeper understanding of God and His Word? Stop and think about what such teachings do. The insistence was that these things had to be done – you had to follow the traditions to be a good Chistian; you had to get rid of things that got in the way of higher thinking; you had to find these secrets of God on your own. You, you, you. It’s backwards! These other things, these other teachings, were getting in the way of that message, daring to offer other, alternate ideas of what brings salvation. Instead of keeping the Christian’s eyes on the cross of Jesus, the temptation was to look elsewhere to less certain – actually, to completely uncertain and false alternatives.  

The message of the church, the message that had Epaphras proclaimed to the Colossians, is that all of God’s plans of salvation came to their completion in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. By God’s grace, through faith in Jesus’ once-for-all vicarious atonement – not by our own work, effort, and merit, but by Christ alone  – God’s people have the certain assurance of the forgiveness of sins, the promise of our own resurrection, and being welcomed into the family of God. Because of Christ, and His fulfillment of the Law and its terrible punishment of condemnation for those who break it, all of God’s promises are now yes through Jesus.

So, Paul, writing to the church in Colossae, urged them to sluff off anything other than Jesus only. He uses three images to help the Colossians understand this: walk in Him, be rooted in Him, be built up in Him. Walking would have brought to mind Jesus own talking on human flesh to dwell among us, to know our needs, to be temped as we are tempted, yet remaining without sin. As He walked among us, so walk after Him, not seeking to exceed Him but to follow after him so closely as to be in Him, connected in mind and spirit. To be rooted was an agrarian image, the roots of the Corinthian’s faith driving deeply into the love and mercy of God in Christ Jesus, drawing faith, life, and hope from Him. And the building image would remind the Colossians that they are part of the whole church, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets who have gone before them, with Jesus Himself as the living cornerstone. You’ve been taught this, Paul says. Instead of seeking alternate ways of finding God, rejoice and give thanks that in Christ He has found and rescued you, making you part of the body of Christ, the church.

Earlier, I made a few broad comparisons, similarities and differences, of the school year of 2026 verses 1926. I submit that the same is true in today’s milieu verses the world of Colossae some 2000 years ago. The world in which we live is not conducive to the Christian church. Satan is very much at work, trying to take our eyes off Jesus, His death and resurrection, His gifts for the church, and His mercy for us. From the false gods of me, myself and I, to brash consumerism, to “do whatever pleases you,” there is no shortage of things that he uses to distract us. If you allow me to set a theological premise as a math problem, to “preach across the curriculum,” if you will:  JESUS PLUS ANYTHING EQUALS NOTHING. Anything that is attempted to be added to Jesus as the only means of certain salvation actually diminishes the cross, causes confusion, twists the conscience, and makes satan dance with glee.

Dear teachers, that is the context against which you will be teaching the students entrusted to your care. There are a thousand and one other things that all seek to take the place of Jesus, or to at least offer a substitute means of “rescue.” Your calling, your vocation as a teacher at St. Paul’s Lutheran School, is to help plant the seeds of faith into the hearts and minds of these children and, prayerfully, those seeds might be extended into the home as well. With those seeds planted, you will then water, nurture, and fertilize those seeds so that they can grow and blossom into a deeply-rooted, strongly built foundation of faith. You will do this vocally, speaking of sin that deserves punishment and mercy that forgives. You will speak of Jesus’ death and resurrection as the salvific means through which God’s perfect Law is kept and His justice is measured. You will speak the very words of Scripture in your classes – sometimes verbatim, reading them together, and sometimes summarizing them in the moment of a conversation, one on one, or in front of the class, or in a message to a parent. And you will demonstrate that same Godly, Christ-like compassion in your actions so that what you do is just as loud as what is said. A quote, often attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, says, “Preach the Gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” Going back to my preaching across the curriculum from theology to math, instead of JESUS PLUS ANYTHING EQUALS NOTHING, you will do the reciprocal (note: another math word): JESUS PLUS NOTHING EQUALS EVERHYTHING.

But let me say this, teachers – and to all of you at St. Paul’s this morning. Our theme verse, “Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving,” is not just for the children who will walk into our building Wednesday morning. It applies to you as well. Allow the Holy Spirit to strengthen and deepen your own roots of faith. Be vigilant in your own spiritual lives. Water the roots of faith deeply as you recall your own baptism, where your sins were washed away and you received the guarantee of salvation as a child of God. You will need that reminder constantly, because satan will take each and every mistake and sin you commit as a teacher and as a parent – and as a brother or sister in Christ – and throw it in your face that you aren’t good enough, that you shouldn’t be doing this noble task, that you are a mess. You combat his lies by remaining rooted in the faith which you have been taught. Be faithful and regular in church; be faithful and regular in reading the Word; be faithful and regular in prayer; be faithful and regular in receiving the Lord’s Body and Blood. And, when those times come when the guilt or shame is louder, heavier, and darker, seek out the words of absolution from your pastor. Know this: my door is (literally) open for you – anyone hearing this message today. It is my pleasure to assure you of God’s mercy for you in Christ with the sure, certain absolution of Jesus. And, know this as well: what is said to me, whether in my study or your classroom, or your home or hospital bed, it dies between us. I don’t discuss or share those conversations with others, including my wife, the school principal, or your spouse. I can’t because it’s gone, stripped from you by Christ.

Well, we’re now about 71 hours away from the beginning of school. I’m looking forward to Wednesday morning, greeting the kids, and then beginning the year here, in the sanctuary. We'll begin with the triune name of God, invoking His name and blessing upon us, faculty, staff and students. Beginning that morning, seeds will be planted; roots will take shape and begin to grow; and a spiritual foundation will begin to be laid. By God’s grace, we will walk together in love in Christ.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, may it be so. Amen.

What Forests and Trees Teach of Jesus' Miracles - Matthew 14: 13-21

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Gospel lesson.

You and I know it as the Feeding of the Five Thousand. The fact that all four evangelists include it tells us that it is important for God’s people. But the question is why – why is it such a significant narrative and teaching for us to read and hear and what is it that we, God’s people in the 21^st century, need to take to heart as we hear and read it again?

You’ve heard the expression, “Can’t see the forest for the trees.” I came to understand that when serving my first church in deep East Texas. For those who don’t know, East Texas is a major pine tree forest. Different species of pine trees tower into the sky as high as 138 feet – roughly 13 stories tall – about 15 feet shorter than our own Broadway Tower. That’s a tall tree. Driving through Davy Crockett National Forest was like the Children of Israel crossing the Red Sea, but with trees instead of water on each side. Except for the noon hour, you drove in the shade on those roads – even in the summer. But if it was a moonless night, those roads were as dark as the tunnel under the Houston Ship Channel. It was strange feeling. While you were surrounded by the forest, you had no idea just how deep and big it was because all you could see on either side of you was a few feet – the trees, big and small, blocked you from seeing anything deeper. Literally, you could not see the forest because of the trees. We use the expression to mean getting so caught up in the details that you lose sight of the bigger picture.

I tell you this as a way of getting into this morning’s Gospel reading. It’s easy to get stuck in the trees of the miracle so we miss the forest of the rest of the story.

I wonder if the disciples were embarrassed or irritated when Jesus told them, “Go, feed the crowd.” After all, who on earth could do such a thing? There was no Sam’s Club or Costco nearby. Even if there was, who could afford to feed 5000 people? Their quick survey of the crowd found just five loaves of bread and two fish. Don’t think big loaves of crusty French bread from a bakery. Think something more like small pita bread or tortillas used for street tacos – hand-sized, something a mom would make for her family. And don’t think two 16-inch speckled trout. These were probably more like sardines or small herring, dried or smoked. These loaves and fish, what a mom would pack a boy’s lunch, easy to carry while watching the sheep. Not much to work with; not enough for a dozen grown men let alone 5000.

Our Lord takes and prays over a boy’s lunch and begins to break and divide, divide and break, giving it to the disciples to distribute. Then, not only is everyone fed but they are satiated, each  – each ate more than that little boy’s lunch.

Consider the miracles. The so-called laws of nature – and certainly those of mathematics - are broken: when one divides something, the whole becomes smaller parts. One already-small loaf should become two even smaller loaves; one already small fish becomes two smaller fish. When Jesus breaks and divides, it somehow multiples. Dividing one small fish suddenly becomes two small fish; one small loaf of bread becomes two small loaves. But it’s not just one becomes two. It continues to grow and divide and multiply. A boy’s lunch becomes enough to feed the crowds, possibly 8000, 9000, 10,000 people. That’s just not possible.

And, the way He does it is just as impossible. There was no vast network of ovens and bakers with sacks of flour and fishmongers with baskets of dried fish. With words of prayer and blessing, speaking to His Father in heaven, Jesus feeds the crowd – work that the disciples felt was impossible.

Even today, this miracle catches us off guard with surprise. If I asked any of you – for the sake of the illustration, let’s say the Board of Elders, if I asked them to take this bag of buns and a can of tuna and feed y’all, everyone would think I was bonkers. No one would take me seriously. I would even be surprised if an individual came up to take the bag and even try. We completely understand the disciple’s reticence – “Who??? Us???” The impossibility of the scene is just to, well, impossible to overcome.

It’s interesting how people try to take this parable and turn it to a modern application. Some will use it to teach that if you have enough faith, God will multiply what you have. That’s called the theology of glory, or prosperity Gospel. That’s not what this is about, at all. Folks get a little closer if they speak to the gift of prayer, but that’s still not right. No where is Jesus teaching the disciples about prayer. There is no description of what a prayer should say or a prescription of how to pray. This is a unique example of Jesus’ prayer – and the words aren’t even recorded for us, not by any of the four evangelists. So, while better, this is still not about prayer. Is it a teaching about the power of miracles, or outlining a doctrine of miracles, what to expect or how to anticipate them? Again, closer, but still not the central thrust. So, what is it about, then? What are we to take from this narrative of the miraculous feeding?

Earlier, I said we can’t always see the forest for the trees. We can easily get caught up in all of these interesting and incredible details that we miss sight of the bigger picture. 

Go back to how the reading began. Jesus had heard about the death of John the Baptist. Needing time to reflect, rest and pray, He took the Twelve with him to the other side of the lake, but when He arrived, He saw the crowds. Matthew reports this:  ^“When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick.”

With that sentence, we discover the greater picture: “He had compassion on them.” In short, Jesus sees their physical need and meets it head-on. He does it first by healing the sick. Then, after an afternoon’s work of preaching and teaching to feed them spiritually, He again has compassion and feeds their hungry bellies.

Jesus is not a far-off, distant and aloof God. He does not wait for man to come to Him. He comes to us. He enters into humanity, taking the very form of a servant to live among us, dwell among us, and even be tempted as us. And part of that dwelling among us is that He experiences for Himself all of the emotions and feelings that we have – including compassion at the common human needs that we all experience and struggle with since the Fall. Out of His great love for us, He does this to rescue and redeem us, both in time and into eternity.

We often focus on that eternal aspect, and it is good, right and salutary that we should. After all, Jesus comes to redeem and save. If you remember, a few weeks ago, we read that Jesus had compassion on the crowds because they were like sheep without a shepherd, in other words, He was worried about their salvation. But He does not do that while overlooking our physical needs as well. When He saw the sick, He healed. When He saw hunger, He fed. And, you notice, He didn’t only do this for those who believed. He did this for everyone who met His boat, for everyone sitting on the hillside, whether they were fully trusting Jesus as Messiah or they were just curious about what He had to say. He loves regardless of how that love is reciprocated. Yes, Jesus desires His love to be returned, but His love is not conditional. He loves; He has compassion; He acts.

This is one of the beautiful truths of Scripture. God lets the sun rise on the good and the wicked and He sends rain on the just and the unjust. He gives daily bread to those who love Him and those who openly despise and mock His name. He provides food, drink, house and home to all people everywhere – even those who refuse to acknowledge His gifts. He does it out of His fatherly goodness and mercy.

For the faithful, for those who love and trust God’s promises in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, God not only gives us food to satiate our growling bellies. He also gives us bread that leads to salvation and wine that quenches our thirst for righteousness. In this bread and wine, Christ Himself is truly present, His Body and Blood given, broken, and shed for you. One of the early Reformers debated with Martin Luther, how is it possible that Jesus’ body and blood could be in multiple places at once; ergo, it must be only symbolic, a remembrance of what Jesus said, not for any particular purpose. If Jesus could divide bread and fish in a miraculous way, enough to feed thousands with just a boy’s lunch all at the sound of His prayer and blessing, then how much more certain can we be trusting of His own promise, “This is my body; this is my blood. Take and eat; take and drink for the forgiveness of sins.” A bite of bread and a sip of wine may not satiate the hungry stomach. But Christ’s body and blood satisfies the heart hungry for the promise of sins forgiven and the strengthening of faith.

There is one interesting aspect of this narrative. Matthew tells us that when everyone had eaten their fill, the disciples gathered up 12 baskets of leftovers. It wasn’t just enough; there weren’t crumbs swept onto the grass. There was plenty. No one went away hungry. On that hillside, that was a perfect moment of restoration. Hunger was defeated. The sick were well. For a moment, the fallen world was right. His compassion defeated satan’s chaos. It was a glimpse, just a glimpse, of what Jesus still had to do. There was something greater on the horizon. While His compassion was always present, it did not prevent Him from going to the cross. There, in His perfect death and sacrifice, He would restore creation. Isaiah’s words, spoken 7 centuries earlier, will one day be fulfilled in the consummation of all things, when Jesus, the Bread of Life, returns in glory. In that day, hunger will be eternally destroyed and all illness will be made whole.

This morning’s Old Testament lesson comes near the end of Isaiah. In chapter 25, Isaiah paints a beautiful picture of what the forest will look like on the last day.

On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wine, of rich food full of marrow, of aged wine well refined. And he will swallow up on this mountain the covering that is cast over all peoples, the veil that is spread over all nations.
He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken. It will be said on that day, “Behold, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”