Last week while on vacation, I got to spend a lot of time with my neice and nephew. My neice is three and my nephew is almost seven years old. And whenever you spend so much time around little ones, you are guaranteed to hear the cutests and darndest things.
As we began to make our long journey back home, our car pulled out onto the highway right behind a logging truck with eight foot, freshly cut logs piled high in the back.
We pointed out the logs to my neice, who immediately wanted to know why the trees broke. We tried to explain that they had been cut down, but her only response was, “tell me the truth, guys!”
We went on to share how those tress would be made into things like toothpicks and tables and paper, but after every explanation, every description that seemed completely logical to our adult minds, she looked at us, with a face of pure unbelieve and shouted back, “That’s not true! Tell me the truth, guys!”
Her little mind hasn’t yet formed the connections between a tree growing in the forest and the paper she colors on every day. The ability for one thing to become another isn’t a concept she can comprehend yet. And so she thought we were all lying to her. Me, her huncle, her father, all of us. And it only got worse the more we laughed and smiled – not because we were fibbing, but because of how adorable she was.
My neice didn’t believe us because she couldn’t yet, but there are times in our lives when we have something deeply true and important to share and when no one believes us it can be very painful and frustrating. As we explore both of our scritpures this morning, we fill find both those who don’t believe and also the longing to include them on this journey of faith.
In Paul’s letter to the Romans this is more obvious. He writes to his fellow Israelites – those who have grown up reading the same scriptures – who understand the same prophecies – to those whom God has chosen – and Paul is in anguish over the fact that his brothers and sisters of Israel don’t believe him. No matter how many times he shares his store, they don’t believe Jesus is the Messiah they have been waiting for. But still, Paul never gives up and keeps writing to them, trying to share what he has found. And he keeps praying and rusting in God’s promises to Israel, to us all.
In our gospel lesson this morning, the unbelieving ones anre a bit harder to find. When Jesus needs some time away – som rest and a space to grieve the death of his friend, John the Baptist, he tries to leave quietly in the morning. But the crowds of followers watch his every move and they all gather together at his destination before he even arrives.
Now – having just been on vacation, I can assure you – as much as I love all of you – if you had journeyed up to Northern Wisconsin and were waiting beside my cabin when I pulled up last week – I might have been pretty upset. I probably would have ordered you all back hom, or I might have hopped back in the car and tried to find a better hiding place.
In any case – I don’t know that I could have mustered up the compassion that Jesus had for all of those men, women and children who had journeyed out to that deserted place to be with him.
So moved was Jesus that he spent all day moving among the crowds and healing those who were sick. He set aside his own plans for the day, his own need to grieve, and he ministered to their needs.
After hours upon hours of these acts of sacrifice, mercy, and compassion, his tired disciples come up to Jesus and begged him to send everybody home.
“There is no food here,” they cried.
“It’s hours past supper time”
“My blood sugar is running low,” they chimed in.
“My tummy is rumbling.”
“Send everyone back to the towns so that they – and we – can get some food!”
I can just picture the mischevious, knowing smile that comes across Jesus’ face as he responds, “No need to send them away – you give them something to eat!”
Because, you see, Jesus already knows the disciples are thinking about scaricty – about how little they have -the few loaves of bread and fishes they brought with them that morning for a meager lunch they didn’t have time to eat. And Jesus knew that what sometimes looks tiny and insignificant can be full of life and life abundant.
So in front of all of those people, all of those faithful crowds who followed Christ into the wilderness, he took the bread of his disciples, blessed the bread and broke it, then gave it to his closest followers so that they could serve the many.
All of those who gathered to see Jesus – to hear him speak and maybe ever tho be healed – got so much more than they were bargaining for that day. They didn’t just catch a glimpse of Christ and spend some time at his feet… they caught a glimpse of the last supper. They got a foretaste of the heavenly banquet. They witnessed a radical outpouring of life and generosity and abundance like hadn’t been seen since the days of the prophets or since Israel journeyed in the wilderness and the people were fed by manna from heaven.
All who were gathered there ate and were filled. Filled with life, filled with hope, filled with the love of Christ, who shared himself with them in the breaking of the bread.
Now all of that is well and good, but like Paul Harvey – I want to know “the rest of the story.” You see, in the “rest of the story” my mind sees unbelieers. In the rest of the story, I feel my heart breaking like Paul’s because I think about all of those people who didn’t show up, who stayed home to mow the lawn, who didn’t think they were worthy or welcome, who were too sick to come.
I think about all of those people today who don’t believe God is real, who can’t understand that God loves them and who live their lives empty of that reality. I think about them and I understand Paul’s frustration.
And you know what, I re-live that feeling each month when we gather around this communion table. I re-live that pain and longing because I know that there is enough here:
enough bread and enough juice
enough love and enough grace
for all to come and be filled.
There is more than enough here, and yet there are many who won’t taste this meal today.
Maybe they are family members who are too busy for church. Maybe they are co-workers that you have never thought to invite. Maybe it’s the person down the street who lives along and longs for a place to belong… but who doesn’t know we exist.
Each time we gather around the communion table, I have asked you to look around and notice who is not with us. It is not a typical part of the litany – but something that one of my pastor’s shared with me that really rocked my world.
Before that, the communion table was about my own personal relationship with God – it was a private act done in a public place. But then, I realiced that this is a table set not just for me, or even just for those in this room, but this is a table set for all. Everyone is welcome here. Everyone will be fed here – if only they are able to gather around the table.
I want us to take a few minutes this morning to think about “who is missing” more seriously. Who in your life, who in this community, is NOT gathered with us or other people of faith around the table?
Here are some slips of paper and I want to invite you to prayerfully write down the name of someone you know, someone you want to invite to join us on this journey. I also ask you to include your name, so that together you and I can reach out to that person or family. When we take the offering after the message, place those names in the offering plate.
My prayer is that when we gather agian around this table next month, that some of those people for whom our hearts break might be able to share in this amazing feast with us.
Over the next few weks we will explore ways to share the love we have experienced with each of these people. Some may simply come and are eager for the invitation. But we might find that there are others to which we have to go – to take the church to them – to gather around other tables in other places. But let us remember that Paul never gave up on his message – and while people may not believe us or won’t come at first, God does and through his power others will too.
