SUNDAY'S SERMON
“Everybody’s Got a Hungry Heart”
We’ve got big decisions to make today about the future of our church and I’ve been hitting the Building Campaign pretty hard lately. Everyone knows how much I believe in it and, from your responses last week, most of you agree. But, as I also tried to indicate last week, building for the future is only part of the picture. As much as we need to build for the future, we need every bit as much to be the church Jesus Christ calls us to be today!
Even those of you who are enthusiastic about the building program have spiritual needs and concerns that have absolutely nothing to do with the size and condition of our Sunday school rooms, whether or not the narthex is crowded or the offices and choir room needs to be upgraded. I believe it is those needs that Jesus is addressing in our scripture this morning, and that’s what I want to reflect on.
I owe this morning’s sermon title, “Everybody’s Got A Hungry Heart” to a Bruce Springsteen song. And it’s true, isn’t it? Our gospel story, popularly known as “The Feeding of the Five Thousand,” is Mark’s version of an event that is recorded, with only minor variations, in all four gospels. What this tells us is that it is undoubtedly based on an actual event that deeply impressed the gospel authors and the early Christian community. They obviously told the story over and over again, about the miraculous feeding of over 5,000 people who had followed Jesus and his disciples to a “lonely place” in the wilderness.
And that’s really the point of
the whole story. It is only
coincidently about five literal loaves of bread and two physical fish. The
people didn’t follow Jesus into the wilderness looking for fast food; they
followed him because everybody has a hungry heart!
And, somehow, mysteriously, in the depths of their hearts, they knew that
Jesus was the spiritual Bread of Life that would nourish and fill the empty
place in their hearts.
Jesus looks out upon the crowd and recognizes their spiritual hunger.
It’s not so much that they’re tired and hungry, it’s that they’re
stressed, harassed and helpless, “like sheep without a shepherd” is
how he puts it. On one level we can imagine that it is the oppressed, the
hurting and the poor that have come out to this wilderness place hoping for a
blessing from Jesus. But, on a deeper level, you and I are those people!
You don’t have to be broke to be poor!
You don’t have to be in physical pain to be hurting.
Aren’t we all oppressed by the burdens of our lives?
We are the ones with the hungry hearts, and somehow, in our heart of
hearts, we know that Jesus Christ is the one who satisfies the hungry heart.
Jesus’ command to his disciples to “give them something to eat” is made all the more incongruous since they are in a deserted place. Where in the world are you going to get food out here in a desert, the disciples want to know.
When the disciples protest, he “ordered them to get all the people to sit down in groups on the green grass” (6:39). That sounds pretty unlikely, doesn’t it - green grass in the desert? But, in biblical language, it is an indication that miracles are about to happen, that prophecies are about to be fulfilled. Isaiah 35 tells of a day when the desert shall break forth into blossom. When the Messiah comes, Isaiah taught, the desert would bloom, just like the Garden of Eden all over again.
And, I’m sure you all remember
the 23rd Psalm. Where
does The Good shepherd lead those who follow him? The psalmist offers up a
testimony of personal experience. “He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.”
Jesus knows we’ve got hungry hearts. Jesus knows we’re in need of a Good Shepherd. Jesus knows that each and every one of us, individually and as a church, have experienced those wilderness times of gnawing emotional emptiness and spiritual need. We may have more than our share of the world’s wealth, and yet it doesn’t take much to suddenly turn it all into a desolate and lonely wilderness. A single phone call in the night, a voice saying, “I’ve got some bad news to tell you;” a medical report, a broken relationship or another seemingly insurmountable bill in the mail.
Today’s gospel says that’s precisely when Jesus has compassion upon us. When we become lost in the wilderness of our lives, like sheep that don’t know which way to turn, he comes to us. That’s when he speaks to us in the empty, hungry places of our hearts. That’s where he comes to us, and offers us the Bread of Life that will restore our souls.
For some of you, thank God, it has happened right here, in this church family. For some of you, it is still a hope and a prayer, a longing of the heart. You may have come here this morning, or last week, or even years ago, knowing that you were wandering in a desert, living in a lonely place. You may have come knowing just how empty you felt. Or, maybe you’re just here and have been for years and don’t even realize on a conscious level just how hungry you are. It happens that way sometimes.
Either way, miracles happen! A miracle might come in the words of the scripture or, wonder of wonders, even the sermon. Or, it may come in the words of a certain refrain from a hymn or song of praise. Miracles come in many forms for many different people with many different needs. Your miracle may not be a literal word so much as the simple act of being in the presence of other spiritual seekers, praying and being quiet together, joining your voice with others. But somehow, miraculously, God, through Jesus Christ, satisfies the hungry heart. And when that happens, flowers bloom in your wilderness. Perhaps it’s just a fleeting moment when suddenly there is a glimpse of green grass and pastures of plenty! Hope is restored. The Shepherd, the one who leads you beside the still waters and satisfies the hungry heart has somehow, miraculously, offered up the Bread of Life, and the desert of your life is able to become a garden of gratitude and joy. When that happens, just say thank you! It’s a miracle.
May Christ be your shalom.
Michael D. Powell Mark 6:30-44 |
July 23, 2006 th Sunday after Pentecost |
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