A Fourth Church Sermon by Alice Trowbridge

July 30, 2006 | 9:30 and 11:00 a.m.

In Our Hearts to Dwell

Alice Trowbridge
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 23
John 6:1–15
Ephesians 3:14–21

“. . . that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith
as you are being rooted and grounded in love.”

Ephesians 3:17 (NRSV)

Almighty God,
so draw our hearts to you,
so guide our minds,
so fill our imaginations,
so control our wills,
that we may be wholly yours,
utterly dedicated to you.
Use us as you will,
always to your glory
and the welfare of your people;
through our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ. Amen.

Book of Common Worship

A young man heads to his field in the bush, his crops nearly overcome by drought and his family becoming more and more hungry with the encroaching famine. He is distraught.

An older woman returns to her house, which is now quiet, empty of the presence of her loved ones, and she grieves.

A man hovers in a bunker in the sandy dunes with the sounds of gunfire and missiles screaming overhead, his heart pounds.

A twelve-year-old child lives with her younger siblings and her grandmother in a hovel; both her parents have died of AIDS, and there is no source of income for her family. They suffer.

A cosmopolitan woman sets out in the morning for another day of shopping, which ultimately leaves her feeling unsatisfied.

An elderly person moves to the city to be closer to his children, only to experience more loneliness than before. He feels useless.

A woman executive gets laid off and can’t find meaningful work. She worries about her future.

A family returns to their home, after being evacuated from a storm, to find it has been ruined. They are devastated.

What do all these people have in common? They hunger, they thirst, they need. Some of their needs are immediate—physical needs upon which survival is dependent. Other needs are spiritual. Do we find ourselves in any one of their stories?

All throughout the Gospels, God asks us to state what it is we need. Our needs may differ, for there are broad ranges of them. What deep hunger do we have that we are asking God to satisfy for us today? What do we hope to find here?

The recorders of Jesus’ ministry in first-century Palestine want us to know this story of the feeding of the 5,000 and know it well, for it is the one miracle story told in all four Gospels, and in two cases, it is told twice. Not the “how” of the miracle—how did five loaves and two fishes serve 5,000 people on a green hillside—but rather, what is this story communicating to us about God’s love for us, God’s message for us as individuals and as a church?

God sets a table for us, each new day. God is moved to compassion and embraces every opportunity to provide for us. But have we learned yet how to feast at God’s table?

What did the 5,000 do once they received their provisions from Jesus and their immediate needs were met? The text tells us they were satisfied, and their eyes were opened and they understood Jesus to be the prophet who had come into the world, and they wanted to take him by force and make him king. This story comes during Jesus’ ministry in Galilee, where he has already performed a number of miracles and signs. The people realize that in his company they will be fed and healed and spared and saved. And so they want to make him king—for all they can receive from him. But that’s not what Jesus wants.

If we look to Jesus only for the provisions of our immediate needs, we are missing the impact of this story. Jesus wants to provide us with food for our soul, holy substance, to satisfy our hungry hearts, and in this we find nourishment that endures. The people came to the green hillside that day wanting to hear God’s word, but Jesus recognized not only their spiritual hunger, but their physical hunger as well. He tended to their physical needs first. Jesus understands all of our hunger and all of our needs. The question for us this morning is, are we willing to trust God with the confession of our deepest and most intimate needs?

There is nothing more pressing at the heart of the human condition than our hunger for God. Is not the heart of our faith the conviction that the human heart is unsatisfied with anything short of God? St. Augustine said, “You have made us for yourself, dear Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find rest in you.” Let us not be deceived: our creator knows us, knows what we need, even more than we may want to admit. Are we willing to fathom the love of God in Christ Jesus, to let the Christ enter our hearts and dwell within us? Jesus says: “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty” (John 6:35).

For several years there was a couple who came faithfully to this church for the 11 a.m. service, and they’d return in the afternoon to stand in line for the Sunday Night Supper. After they were here for a while, they soon became mainstays of that meal, and they began taking on roles of responsibility. They’d check people in and help clear the tables. I remember them saying several times how they couldn’t get over the wonderful smells coming from the church kitchen, and how the dining room was always clean and inviting, and they knew they would be gladly received and would enjoy a warm, delicious meal in the company of friends.

This couple hasn’t been with us for more than a year now; they moved to the suburbs where their family secured a home in a trailer park for them. A colleague and I were invited to visit them recently. It was our turn to be welcomed into their home. We walked in, and the smells from the kitchen emanated throughout. A feast had been prepared for us, and we were ready to receive it. I can only imagine the care and time spent preparing this meal. I realized what they had repeatedly described to me about the welcome they felt at our Sunday Night Supper. It is a distinct joy to enter a place where the table is lovingly set, just for you.

It is God’s will that all creation should receive the daily bread God offers to us, our manna in our wilderness. It is painful to consider this promise in light of the great divides of our world, the agonizing scenarios that are playing out right now in real time: war, famine, disease, poverty, injustices, natural disasters. The texts for today say nothing about sparing us from the ills of our generation. What is communicated is God’s desire to feed our bodies, our minds, and our souls; the shepherd tends to his flock and cares for each one of us. There is no distress, no loneliness, no grief, no regret, no temptation, no illness, no financial strain, no job misfortune, no natural disaster, no fear that can ever separate us from the magnitude of God’s love for each one of us. When we let Christ dwell in our hearts, we are not promised a perfect life. What God does promise is to be by our side so that when heartache and trials come our way, we are able to respond from a place of honesty and strength and a peace beyond anything we alone can achieve.

Blaise Paschal said, “There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every person which cannot be filled by any created thing, but only by God, the Creator, made known through Jesus.” Jesus provides the bread of life that endures forever, substance for our souls, and we need not look far to catch glimpses of this feast. God is with us in the simple moments of every day, seeking to fill us fully with love and with joy.

We might recognize this offering of life in a table set just for us, in a summer swim in the lake on a hot day, in an unexpected call from an old friend, in the taste of a perfectly ripened peach, in the sound of laughter in the distance, in a word of encouragement from someone we love. But God is also found in the trenches of our lives, in the dark places. If we look, we will find God there as well. These are sacramental moments, these are God’s living bread for each of us if we choose to receive them that way, to feast at God’s table. This is the substance by which we make a life.

We hunger and thirst and need, and we come here this morning with hearts full of hopes, uncertainties, weariness. Whatever is in us, God knows completely. Are we willing to fathom the love of Christ for us, to trust God in our deepest need, to let Christ enter our hungry hearts and dwell within us? Are we willing to receive God’s finest food—Christ himself—to nourish our souls?

Jesus says, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

Let Christ in our hearts to dwell, and we may yet be filled.

Thanks be to God. Amen.