From the DPS Sermon Archive:

• Are You Being Fed?  John 21:1-19, Jim in B.C. (see below)

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Seeing with New Eyes

a sermon based on Acts 9:1-20
by Rev. Randy Quinn
 

Before I read the text for today, I want to give you a little background on the two characters in the text.

The first has been groomed by the politicians of his day to become a key leader in the upcoming generation.  He had been a good student -- a brilliant student who was taught by some of the most well known scholars of his day.  He had been trained in Greek as well as in Hebrew (Acts 22:3).  He knew his culture, his background, his history, and his society.  He could look at a person and see things others would overlook.

He had been born in what is now Turkey, but educated in Jerusalem.  He was a recognized 'rising star' in the religious community.

The second character is much more obscure.  In fact, we only know of him from the story in this text.  He was apparently a regular member of the local synagogue.  He apparently did his best to comply with the Jewish law.  And he apparently had become a believer in Jesus.  He was a devout person who was well respected in his community (Acts 22:12) -- something that could be said for most of us here today.

Both of these men had something in common, though.  And what they had in common, I think is common among many of us, too.  Both of the men in our text today had a limited idea about the ways God can work.

                                                                Read Text

I'd like to suggest that both Saul and Ananias had each developed a sense of blindness that could only be healed by the voice of God.

¤ Over the years, what they had been taught to see affected their vision.

¤ Over the years, what they had been taught to see clouded their eyes to the truth around them.

¤ Over the years, what they had been taught to see became like cataracts that needed to be removed before the truth could be understood and proclaimed.

Native Americans tell the story about an eagle's egg which fell from its nest.  A young brave happened upon the egg that had somehow fallen without breaking.  Unable to find the nest, the brave put the egg in the nest of a prairie chicken, where it was hatched by the brooding mother hen.  The fledgling eagle, with its proverbial strong eyes, saw the world for the first time.  Looking at the other prairie chickens, he did what they did.  He crawled and scratched at the earth, pecked here and there for stray grains and husks, now and then rising in a flutter a few feet above the earth and then descending again.  He accepted and imitated the daily routine of the earthbound prairie chickens.  And he spent most of his life this way.

Then, as the story goes, one day an eagle flew over the brood of prairie chickens.  The now aging eagle, who still thought he was a prairie chicken, looked up in awed admiration as the great bird soared through the skies.  "What is that?" he gasped in astonishment.  One of the old prairie chickens replied, "I have seen one before.  That is the eagle, the proudest, strongest, and most magnificent of all birds.  But don't you ever dream that you could be like that.  You're like the rest of us and we are prairie chickens."

And so shackled by this belief, the eagle lived and died thinking he was a prairie chicken.

Both Saul and Ananias had been shackled by the beliefs of those around them.  Saul saw all Christians as enemies of God and zealously persecuted them -- even into Damascus.  Ananias responded to Saul's violent hatred by treating him as an enemy to be feared.

But that was before Ananias was given new sight.  He was being reminded of what it means to "love your enemies" (Lk 6:27).

Of course, receiving new sight isn't necessarily an easy thing.  In fact, receiving new sight can be quite frightening.

In her book Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard writes of when surgeons first discovered how to perform cataract operations and began to operate on people who had been blind since birth.  The surgeons were able to give them the gift of sight but not the gift of understanding what they saw.  Because they hadn't learned to see as children, the colors and shapes they now saw held little meaning.

            Some found it an overwhelming experience.  One teenage boy threatened to tear his eyes out.  Another young woman kept her eyes closed for two weeks after her operation to shut out the brightness.  When she finally opened her eyes again, she still didn't understand what she saw; but as she looked around, the girl cried out again and again, "Oh God!  How beautiful!"[1]

With his newfound sight, Ananias approaches Saul, his former enemy, and sees a beautiful child of God.  Incredibly, he calls Saul "Brother" (v 17).

Before we look at how that affected Saul, I want to ask about the possibilities of our own blindness.  Are we blinded to the hurts of our brothers and sisters that are homeless, abandoned, lonely, broken?  Are we blinded to the outcasts of society, because we don't want to get our "hands dirty"?  Are we blinded to those dying with incurable diseases, so we stay away from them?

Maybe we are blind to the needs of those nearest to us because of our busyness.  We allow other activities to become more important than listening to them, caring about them, taking time to show our love.

Or maybe, like so many others, we've been blinded by our upbringing.

• Susan had grown up in the church.  She knew the stories of Jesus.  Her values had been shaped by her upbringing.  But she had never really developed a personal relationship with Jesus in a way that directed her life.  She knew "about" Jesus.  He was a good teacher.  She thought that was good enough.  So when Jesus worked in her life to guide and shape it, she couldn't see it.

• Kevin had a negative experience of church growing up.  It was not a grace-filled, forgiving, loving experience.  Instead it was an experience of rigidness, threat and fear.  Jesus was always like God's policeman, trying to catch you in sin and pass out punishment.  So when Jesus began working in his life through a Christian wife and boss, he couldn't see it.

• Jeremy had lived a rough life with lots of low spots.  He had first started coming to church with a friend in his mid-30s.  Things started to go better.  Jesus became a good luck charm that warded off bad experiences.  And he never saw what Jesus was really about.

• John, who lived in a different era than our own, ran away from home when he was eleven years old and began working as a seaman.  He was a good mariner who didn't think about the morality of the slave trade he profited from.  When a storm nearly sank his ship, John began to think again about his life and the purpose in life.  From that event, John began to respond to the call of God in his life.  He eventually became an ordained pastor.  But he is most remembered for his autobiographical hymn in which he claims, "I once was blind but now I see."

We, like Ananias, like Susan and Kevin and Jeremy and John, have been blind at times.  We, too, need to receive new eyes to see.

When we can see like Ananias could see, people like Saul are given new sight.  When Ananias touched him, it was as though scales came off his eyes and Saul could see again.

In a surprising miracle, both men received new sight that day.  Both were healed by the grace of God.

Who knows who might benefit from our newfound eyesight.  We may greet someone as brother or sister and change their hardened heart.  We may share a simple smile and allow the light of day to shine into the dreariness of another person's life.

When we see others as God's children, God is able to work through us to allow them to see that they are indeed God's children.  That may be what Ray Strawser was thinking when he wrote the poem "The Image On Your Face"

There's an image on your face

Did you know that it was there

When first you showed up on the earth

And took a breath of air?

That image is of God, of course.

And it is very clear

To all who'll pause to notice it

Protruding the veneer.

That image is in others, too,

It's always looking out,

Waiting to be recognized

With respect and not with doubt.

If only we could take the time

When first we others meet,

To cherish God's bold image

That is in them and complete.

How different would our living be

How much improved our world:

There'd be no time for disrespect,

For fighting, war or greed;

Responding to God's image

We'd meet each other's need,

We'd not accuse, suspect or fear

Or do another in.

Because disappointments, faults or

even sin,

We'd live next door --

Or far away --

Without the slightest doubt

That honoring God's image

In each of us

Is what life's all about.[2]

That's what life is all about.  Seeing -- not with new eyes necessarily, but seeing with God's eyes.  That's what happened to Ananias.  That's what happened to Saul.  And that's what can happen to you and me if we will let the grace of God touch us.

As frightening as it may be to see clearly, I pray we will all receive new eyes to see.

Amen.

Gone Fishing
a sermon based on John 21:1-19
by Rev. Tom Hall

The small town barbers of 1950’s and 60’s sitcoms had their priorities straight. Should an alluring break in the weather come and should the word on the street have the bass biting in the local pond-they’d hang a hastily scrawled sign over their window:

Gone Fishin'

Those two simple words could grind small town America to a standstill; the sign really said, "Nothing more important than bass and crappies-when they’re biting, that is. Quit the rat race and relax; stick a night crawler on a hook and sit a spell." Of course, "Gone fishin,’" also meant that your hair would get another day’s reprieve-unless, of course, you drove all the way over to Mt. Pilot. So if you wanted your ears lowered you’d have come back the next day. Nothing like a spell of good weather and hungry fish to take one’s mind off of business-as-usual.

"Gone fishin’." That’s what the sign must have said outside Peter’s shop. Maybe it was the spring-like breeze, or the whiff of drying fish on the racks near the local water hole that triggered his decision to go fishing. Maybe he’d planned this trip, had marked it on the calendar and had counted the days down the moment when he could head out the door with his tackle box.

For a lot of us, fishing is the thing we do when we’re tired of doing what we’re supposed to be doing. I wonder if for Peter, this particular fishing trip was one of those times. He just wanted to escape the resurrection script and the whole Christian scene-if not for a moment, maybe he wanted to put it on hold indefinitely. Boats and water aren’t always friendly things to some of us, but for Peter, getting back to the water would have given him a rush. He was getting back to what he knew and loved. The water and fishing carried him back to earlier times-times before things started getting complex and crazy.

Many fishermen since Peter have discovered that fishing is a great time to think. You think about what’s been happening in your life. Thoughts normally course through the mind in a stream of consciousness-thoughts surging and darting like children on the playground. But when you fish, you have time to focus. You can catch those scrambling thoughts and reflect on them. Maybe that’s what Peter was doing. He slowly whisked his nets through the water netting his thoughts about where his life was heading.

The muscles in his forearms must have bulged as he hugged hundreds of feet of net and headed off for nearby Lake Galilee. "Who’s going with me?" he yells, adjusting the sign on his shop. Six others drop what they’re doing and grab their fishing gear and hang their "gone fishin’" signs out. He always had been a leader among his friends.

Some commentators, however, read more into this fishing trip than a simple, guys day out thing. They see Peter’s actions as nothing short of defection! Peter has left off being an apostle, hung up his towel and basin and headed back to his old neighborhood and to his old reliable line of work. Even worse-not only has Peter left his discipleship back on shore, but he’s carried six others out to sea with him. Peter-despite some inkling that the Jesus of his past has recently become risen Lord of his present-just hangs up the sign and heads out. Just walks away from any connection or responsibility that he might have had to Jesus. This interpretation is not explicit in the text, but you have to wonder if these commentators are right-there seems to be a sense of finality in Peter’s words, "I’m going fishing." As in "permanently."

Many pastors since Peter’s day have made the same kind of admission. After a career of ministry that is marked by struggle, fund-raising, counseling, church dissension and conflict management, politics, along with the joys, is it any wonder that they don’t hang the sign over their life and follow Peter? "Is this all?" they ask.

I became aware of this struggle two summers ago. I was awaiting my turn to walk out during a wedding when the officiating minister turned to me and quipped, "Yep, this is my three hundred and fifty fourth wedding-I want to make it to four hundred before I retire." As the ceremony went on, it became clear by this minister’s routine that something was missing. Business as usual. I wondered when the exact moment had come in his life when he had hung the sign outside his career-"gone fishin’.

Peter might have the been the leader-the future leader of the Church-but there were six others (that’s the rest of us) who also followed him. Anyone can hang the sign out. "Gone fishin’." I recently came across an astounding statement by Chris Evert, the all-time great women’s tennis champion. At the time she was at the top of her game. She said, We get into a rut. We play tennis, we go to a movie, we watch TV, but I keep saying, ‘John, there has to be more.’"

Any of us can go through the motions, say the right words, and yet for all intents, have hung the sign out, "gone fishin’."

Author Judith Wright says that we tune out or numb ourselves to God’s calling on our life through what she has termed, soft addictions-hanging out too long or too frequently in the chat rooms or checking and rechecking emails, procrastinating, buying the newest technical wizardry, overeating, undereating, over exercising, viewing internet pornography, forever being too busy, blaming, playing the victim, fantasizing, etc. (And to this list we could add our own soft addictions.)

The danger of these soft addictions, she says, is that they eat away at our life of meaning. They keep us going through the paces, enjoying life in a minor key, zoning out or avoiding the responsibilities that lead to a more meaningful, fulfilling life.

The good news in this story is what God does about the "gone fishin’" sign in Peter’s life. Jesus seeks out this possible defector, this potential AWOL disciple and in the in a most remarkable way, draws him back to a meaningful mission and purpose as a disciple and leader.

First of all, given the levels of fishing prowess represented among the seven fishing pros in the boat and given the combined knowledge of fishing lore amongst them, and given the amount of time they were fishing-somewhere between eight to ten hours-you’d think they would’ve at least caught a few crappies, maybe a perch or crab. But after a night of fishing with seven smart guys trying their hands at netting fish they score a big zero. Zilch. Goose eggs. By dawn’s early light they would have settled for an old boot-anything to show for their work.

What did Jesus have to do with that we might ask. I would be inclined to say that Jesus had nothing to do with Peter and friends’ very bad, horrible, not very good fishing trip. Except . . . Well, except that the moment he says, "Hey, boys, why don’t you try over here" and when they do all seven disciples are flying every which way trying to land one hundred and fifty-three fish. Come to mama! Like a magnet, fish who moments before were manuevering around the nets suddenly start flying into the net like torpedoes-the big ones, the ones that always got away, the shrimps, the catfish the bass. In five minutes the disciples see more action than the previous ten hours. Holy mackeral!

Yeah, but that was just coincidence. A fluke. A school of fish that caught them by surprise. But this change in the action does get their attention. As at other appearances after the passion, Jesus’ identity was withheld. "Hmmmm, I wonder who the stranger is?" they had to have thought. No doubt some of them were putting the puzzle together. "Didn’t we have another fishing snafu just like this-and the same thing happened? Oh, wait a minute, that was Jesus that other time." Though they can’t say conclusively, they now have their suspicions.

So the seven wayfarers drag the bulging net to shore and once on land they run into another clue-the same guy with the hot fishing tip now wants to serve them breakfast! "Hmmmm, I wonder who that stranger is?" Whoever it is, he has the fire stoked and some fish frying in the pan. "Hey, fellas, bring some of your catch, let’s get us some breakfast!"

Breakfast ended, things get even more interesting-and more personal for Peter. Jesus walks past the disciples scattered around the early morning fire and sits right beside Peter. "Peter, do you love me more than these?"

Commentators have long puzzled over the meaning of Jesus’ question: "do you love me more than these?" What are the "these" to which Jesus referred? Some surmise that Jesus looked around at the other disciples scattered around the camp eating their fish. Acknowledging them to Peter, he says, "Peter, do you love me more than these . . . your friends?" Or maybe Jesus was looking to the villages sillouetted in the distance when he posed the question. "Peter, do you love me more than you love these-your family, your neighborhood, your life? "

But given the beginning of the story I wonder if Jesus is really pointing at the sign hanging over Peter’s life: "gone fishin’." Jesus picks at the flakey white meat from the bones of a sunfish. Then he holds up his fish skeleton and gives Peter one of those looks in which the look meets the eyes, but goes straight into the soul. "Do you love me, Peter," Jesus asks, shaking that fish in the direction of the pile of fish before them. "Do you love me more than you love these . . fish?" Then feed my sheep. Nourish my followers.

That’s the story that John chooses to close his gospel with. And the lessons that that emerge from it are as varied and unique as each reader. Yet the story is remarkable in portraying a prodigal son God who goes to extraordinary lengths to adjust our misplaced love. Like us Peter could love God, the 76ers, and fish. Jesus points out that anything less than love for God is to walk away from the One who creates the fish, the seas, and all that is in them.

The other part of the story that haunts me is that you just never really know-conclusively and concretely the identity of the Stranger who stands on the beach of our lives offering hot tips for living. We may have our suspicions, but we’ll never have all the facts in to make a 100% identification. That’s the faith part of the story. So we’ll need to listen to-and serve-a lot of strangers who just may turn out to be the Lord. Sometimes the Stranger will look more like a gardener, or a neighborhood friend who joins you as you jog, or somebody else than Jesus. So you’ll need to serve everyone you can.

Peter returns to the shop and removes the "gone fishin’" sign. Years pass. He will go on to live a truly extraordinary life that will open the door for nearly the entire world to encounter God’s love. He will heal people’s pain, preach the good news, and work on his prejudices. And he will be executed for his faith in Jesus the Stranger who stood on the beach that day. Yet in all of this, Peter will finish his mission having lived a meaningful and extraordinary life.

Hear the Good News: God who began a good work in you will will be faithful to fulfill your calling and in the process will to you the catch of your life in the joy that comes from staying the course and embracing the mission to which we you have been called. Amen.

Conversion
a homily based on Acts 9:1-6 (7-20)
by Rev. Tom Hall

Did you listen closely to that story about Saul on the Damascus Road this morning? It's one of those heavily colored highlighted stories; it’s one of the most recited, preached about, studied, and taught passages in the entire New Testament. I think one reason why this story has found such favor among Christians is because of the presence of a single word. The word doesn't even show up in the story but its presence is felt. It is a disruptive word--a word that intrudes into our life, a word that rocks our boat, threatens us with priority shifts.

The story about Saul on the Damascus Road is a conversion story. And we all know about conversion. When you turn that closet into an upstairs bathroom you could say that it is converted--changed in nature or character. And when that farm that houses thousands of cackling pungent chickens is turned into condos for hundreds of families and friends--we could say it's been converted--changed in nature or character. And this week I discovered that even vans get converted. That van rolls into the garage with few options and comes back out fully loaded, in wild colors, shag carpet, quad seating, a raised roof, and a really changed price tag. It's no longer just a van, but a "conversion van"--changed in nature or character. Conversion.

That's what this story is about. A change in nature or character. This story shows us that God reserves the right to break into our life unannounced with a persistent love that will not let us go, that pursues us through our life. Just talk to St. Augustine, John Bunyan, Charles and John Wesley, Finney, Leo Tolstoy, Albert Schweitzer, C. S. Lewis--all of whom had their personal Damascus Road experience. Not to mention a host of slave traders, lawyers, middle school kids, intellectuals, farmers, school teachers, rocket scientists, and perhaps yourself. All of these and more have found something in this very story that resonates with their own faith experience. So it's not hard to discover why this Saul on the Damascus Road story is one of those red-lettered, heavily underlined, yellow highlighted kind of stories.

He seemed to come from nowhere. And just in the nick of time. Just when the Sanhedrin thought that this Christian movement could not be stopped, he had stepped forward and volunteered to fight. Saul was one of their own, strong, young, and intelligent—and fiercely committed to the traditions of his fathers. And he had the nose of a blood hound. So he picks up the scent of Christian sightings up in Damascus. This young Colombo clutches the official paperwork and stalks off with other strong muscled marines to conduct investigations, make arrests, and hold court. He is determined to stomp out this Christian thing once and for all.

That is, until suddenly he lies in the sand near Damascus like a wounded animal blinded by the most brilliant light ever to hit his pupils. He's stone blind when he is finally pulled to his feet. This leader is now led by the hand--like a tiny tot clutching a matronly hand. The hand leads him into Damascus for the voice in the desert has told him to wait in the city for further instructions. So for past three days he has been a prisoner in his own room--sightless and hungry. He kicks a piece of shard so that it shatters against the wall. Why can't he see? Why can't he just do his job? And get on with life? Why this? What's happening to him? he wonders.

He senses a human enter his blackness, the warmth of human hands rest on his head and the words finally come: "Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit." As suddenly as the light had gone off in his life, it comes roaring back with the brilliance of stadium lights. He has never seen so clearly before. He really sees. He see the scriptures in that new light. He sees Christians in that new light. For the first time in his entire life--he really truly sees. His perspective changes. His commitment changes. His relationship with Christians change; in fact, he even changes his name from Saul to Paul. We might say that he has been converted--for God has come bounding into this young man's life unannounced with a persistent love so that Paul will never be quite the same again.

So there we have the story of conversion--a flashing vision of truth, humility, conviction of sin, forgiveness, and the ready acceptance of a new life of mission and service. Sometimes conversions are loud and bold affairs--much like Paul's. One of my friends, a law student with his sights set on an office in the Canadian Parliament, went to his father's parish one night with a friend. They had been drinking all afternoon. They now sat in the back of the church mocking everything my friend's father did in the worship service. And when the guest speaker got up to preach, they cat-called and muttered obscenities. But this speaker spoke about God's love that night in a way that my friend had not understood. They had come to church only to get thrown out but the words of this preacher started to get to him. At the conclusion of the service the evangelist gave an invitation and Terry Law, my friend, stumbled down to the front. Bawled like a baby. But after that night he would never be the same; I know I traveled with him for six years and watched him bring food and shelter, and hope to thousands of people.

But isn't that what's so stressful about Paul's conversion experience? So dramatic and all. What about the rest of us who haven't had those kinds of disruptive experiences? Conversion can take many forms. When the psalmist cries out "create in me a clean heart O God, he is longing for a chance to begin all over again--that's conversion. When Isaiah sees the majesty of God and responds by crying, Woe is me! For I am lost; he is describing a disruptive u-turn that conversion can take.

Take Toyohiko Kagawa, for instance. Though a Christian and bestseller author, his conversion began through a simple prayer: "O God, make me like Christ." That was it. That was the blinding light and heavenly voices that accompanied his conversion. Yet That was enough. He was an orphan, half blind, always sick, yet this little Japanese walked into the slums of Tokyo and became Japan's greatest slum reformer. He became as much like Jesus as anyone before or since his time. Six words changed Martin Luther's life: "the just shall live by faith." No amazing experiences or emotion--just these words that he wrote a year before the Reformer died: "Here I felt that I was altogether born again and had entered paradise itself through open gates." Thomas Aquinas wrote over 10,000 pages of theology and then one day stopped abruptly. "How can you stop now?" a concerned colleague asked. Thomas replied, "I cannot go on...All that I have written is just straw compared to what I have seen of God and what God has revealed to me."

I was raised in a Christian home, my father a minister. My earliest recollections are of Sunday evenings at church. These people would sing and sing about heaven, about hope, about Jesus and getting saved. So I had been raised in the shadow of Christian faith all my life, attended catechism, received baptism at age 12. Yet I also discovered that so much religion can become counter productive. I found that though I had memorized scriptures, songs, choruses, the Lord's Prayer and the 23rd Psalm, my heart was not converted. Nor was my life during the week--if we mean by conversion a fundamental change in character. I tried everything everyone tried; laughed at jokes and cursed quite well. But then on Sundays I could always revert to the proper deportment of a minister's kid. No one knew about my double life.

I tried to change things myself. I would respond to invitations to come forward or to sign prayer cards or to do something to bring my life together. One day my parents gone, I sat down and began reading the Bible on my own. It was in a fresh translation. I discovered that something inside me happening. I found myself getting excited about what I read. Had been there all along, but this time it was different. No dramatic conversion, but some honest prayers and a new awareness that I had let God join me in my life. It wasn't until several months later that I realized that someone had been tampering with my report card--my grades had gone berserk! I had never been within three miles of an A or B before; but suddenly a few of these collector's items are popping up in my report card. I certainly hadn't gotten any smarter! But then I remembered that I had honestly asked God to take over my life, to guide me to a better quality of life. And grades let me know that God was truly working quietly but profoundly in my life. I found a devotional part of myself begin to search, imagine, pray and believe. And now as I look back over the years I notice a series of conversions. I do see God's gentle Spirit all along has been guiding, renewing, illuminating. And even after twenty years, I know God's Spirit is with me.

Conversion? Sometimes it’s as quiet as a mountain lake, other times our mighty persistent God breaks into our lives unannounced to disrupt and dramatically change our lives. But the story of Saul on the Damascus road does challenge us this morning: it challenges us to open our lives to this converting God; not to shrink in fear of what might happen, of how our lives might change. The tough new is this--the most miserable place to be is to be a Christian that's unwilling to be converted; and the Good News? Well, that in Jesus Christ God desires to renew us, change us for the better, to convert us--not once, or twice, but again and again. But whether dramatic or quiet--the bottom line is the same: a profound change in nature or character. That's where I'm headed. Hope you are too. Amen.

Are You Being Fed?
John 21: 1-19
Jim from B.C.
 

I don’t know about you, but I have trouble going a whole day without food. I’ve done so on occasion, but it’s very difficult. Going a whole day without food is unthinkable for some of us, yet many of us go without spiritual food for much longer than one day. Some people try to go without spiritual food for weeks on end, even years. Of course, they soon feel empty, listless, and weak.

Spiritual food is as much a necessity of life as bread or vegetables, or coffee (for Norwegians). By spiritual food, I mean anything that fulfills us spiritually, or heals us emotionally, or fuels us psychologically, or otherwise keeps us alive to God and to other people and to the creation around us. For instance, if you receive a personal affirmation from someone, or hear the words “I love you”—that’s spiritual food. Or receive a hug or a kiss. If you’ve been needing a hug for a while and you finally get one, it can make your day. When we feel the need for spiritual food, and it finally comes to us, we really lap it up.

A good book may be spiritual food, if it’s edifying or inspiring or satisfying to our heart. There are some wonderfully inspiring books available. It’s too bad so many people would rather watch TV than read; they’re missing out on some wonderful spiritual food.

Of course, when it comes to books, the Holy Bible is real meat. It is spiritual nectar. The writer of Psalm 119 says “[Lord,] how sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” Regarding the Holy Scriptures, there is a wonderful prayer from the old Missouri Synod hymnal that I grew up with, that goes, “Grant, Lord, that we may. . . hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them. . . .”

Daily devotions are a wonderful spiritual food also, and are best taken at a regular time each day.

And of course, whenever we open ourselves to God in prayer; whenever we set aside a quiet time to meditate, to speak to God and listen to God—that’s spiritual food. Even to sit in a beautiful garden and drink in the beauty of the flora and hear the birds singing—it can be very refreshing, spiritually.

Also, an important kind of spiritual food is to have a father confessor or a mother confessor: someone to whom you can tell anything, confidential or otherwise, who will listen sympathetically and non-judgmentally, and then who will communicate to you the forgiveness of your sins. That’s what priests were originally relied upon to do. Martin Luther thought Confession and Absolution was so important that he called it “the Third Sacrament”.

Of course, our main spiritual meal of the week ought to be Sunday worship. A good worship service ought to contain both the sacrificial and the sacramental. It should have not only sacrificial acts (things that we give to God, such as our praise and adoration and prayers and offerings), but it also should have sacramental acts (things that we receive from God, such as the word of Scripture, and the Gospel message in the sermon, the sharing of peace, the Lord’s supper, and the like). Anything that is sacramental in the worship service is spiritual food.

One reason people go church shopping is because they are spiritually hungry. Many people nowadays feel a tremendous emptiness within themselves, and they have a sense that they’re starving to death in some way. Unfortunately, some people search and search and can’t seem to find a church where they are fed spiritually.

According to the research, one of the most important kinds of spiritual food that people are looking for in a church is healthy friendships. And so, when I talk to people who on the search for a church, I encourage them to keep looking until they find one where they feel welcome and where they can potentially find friends.

Other people are uplifted by church music, and will go to a church because of the choir or the hymn-singing; others are looking for really rousing types of music, with lots of rhythm and clapping and body movement. Others are uplifted by extended periods of quiet, or directed meditation, and that, to them, is wonderful spiritual food.

In the latest edition of our Canada Lutheran magazine, there’s an article called “Hockey Mom”, in which a woman writes about her childhood experiences in the Lutheran church. She says she wishes she could reproduce them and have her children experience them. She also says that she has searched for a church, but having gone to this particular church for a year, she says she feels spiritually unsatisfied. So she’s been getting her spiritual food at the hockey arena.

As ridiculous as that sounds, I can’t say I blame her. It’s pathetic in a way, but she makes a good case for getting her spiritual food there. She obviously doesn’t want to starve to death, and among the teams and the coaches and the parents there’s evidently a cooperative spirit, reminiscent of her childhood, where people worked together joyfully and supported one another. But as I read the article, I couldn’t help thinking: she’s settling for junk food. Eventually she’s going to ruin her health, spiritually.

Some people, especially younger people, are seeking to fill their spiritual emptiness with New Age religion. This includes parapsychology and transcendental meditation techniques borrowed from Eastern religions. It includes trying to get in touch with the spirit world, or at least to gain spiritual power and energy through channeling or crystals or breath control exercises and so on. I just saw a notice yesterday at a Penticton coffee shop, where a woman is advertising something called “Breath Integration”—in brackets “Rebirthing”. The poster promises what I would call “personal salvation” through this technique. You can see how popular this New Age religion has become if you read a magazine like “Issues”, which is published here in Penticton.

It shows once again how many people are starving for spiritual food, and are seeking alternatives to the church, and will go to incredible lengths and strange places to find it.

The question I want to ask you today, on the basis of today’s Gospel Lesson, is: “Are you being fed?” Are you getting the nutrients you need to stay alive, spiritually?

In today’s Gospel Lesson, Jesus miraculously helped Peter and the others to find food. Earlier he had helped them to find bread, when he fed them and 5000 others; in this case it’s fish, a superabundance of fish. It’s clear that, just as in the Last Supper, Jesus is providing also spiritual food, in, with, and under the physical food.

Although the food is coming to them through Jesus, it is, of course, GOD who is supplying it. Jesus, as the Son of God, is the world-wide distributor of God’s spiritual food for the hungry masses.

And after Jesus feeds his disciples, he asks them to feed others. He says to Simon Peter, who represents all the disciples, “Feed my sheep.” This is so important that he says it three times. It’s an exhortation addressed also to us, and to all Jesus’ followers: “Feed my sheep.”

So the question arises: How can we expect to feed others if we haven’t been fed ourselves? How can we share bread with others (whether wheat-bread or monetary bread or spiritual riches), unless we have first received sufficient for ourselves and enough to share?

A wise man once said: In helping others on their spiritual journey, we can only take them as far as we have been ourselves.

So there must be a balance, within each of us, between input and output. Not enough spiritual input, and we will have nothing to give others. And if we try to keep giving and giving, without replenishing our supply, we’ll end up empty, or burn ourselves out, and we’ll be no good to anybody.

So it’s necessary for us, if we want to be people who help others, to take a break once in a while, if we’ve been working constantly and we’ve been under stress. It’s necessary to take time out to refresh ourselves spiritually.

Are you being fed?

Some of us become imbalanced in the opposite way: too much input and not enough output. Some of us fill up on the Word and the Sacraments and the spiritual strength of fellow Christians; we meditate and study literature that is good for our personal growth and development; we go to workshops at Naramata or other wonderful retreats, and in general we take good care of ourselves spiritually, and pamper ourselves until we glow with health. But we then we don’t share it! We don’t use those spiritual gifts in the service of others. Some of us selfishly keep all that to ourselves, and the Holy Spirit within us just seems to evaporate, dissipate, and go to waste.

Just as we must take in physical food to gain strength in order to exercise, so also we must exercise and work our muscles, or all that good food we take in will turn to fat! The same is true spiritually: there must be a balance within us. Which incidentally, is how wellness is defined nowadays: balanced living.

So I come back to the question: “Are you being fed?” According to today’s Gospel Lesson, there is plenty of spiritual food available. However, I notice that even after Jesus is risen, the disciples DOUBT that he can supply them. They don’t trust him. And they never stop being amazed when he comes through, and feeds them with more than enough. Likewise, we often doubt that God will provide, so we’re tempted to go elsewhere for our spiritual sustenance.

The best advice in this regard, comes, as usual, from Jesus himself. In Matthew chapter 6 he says: “Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you (Jesus says) who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!”

Perhaps the most difficult life-lesson we have to learn, is that God will provide. No matter how abundantly God has provided in the past, when scarcity comes and we feel those spiritual hunger pangs, we seem to doubt that God will provide.

When we attempt to follow Christ, and do God’s will in our daily life, and feed the sheep that Christ has given us to feed, trouble will surely come. It always does. THIS time, let us dare to trust that God will provide.

God WILL provide the spiritual food we need. Amen.