Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15; John 6:24-35
PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I was at home wolfing down a late lunch when our faithful office manager Kelly called to say: “There’s a young man here from England who’s looking for a place to stay. Any ideas?”
Aside from the fact that he was from England, this didn’t seem too unusual. People come to the church all the time looking for help. I always try to do what I can—but in this case, I knew PADS was closed until October, Good Samaritan wasn’t open on Tuesdays, and our church had just hosted a group of Palestinian teenagers the week before. I, myself, have had a steady stream of visitors in our basement since summer began. So I said to Kelly, “Tell him to go to the fire department” and I hung up the phone.
An hour later, sitting at my desk back at the church, I saw a young man walk into the office. I immediately knew this was the same character. I went out to greet him, and discovered that his story truly was more unusual than I first thought. Matthew, age 20, is indeed from England, and he was traveling from Seattle to New York—by bicycle—on just $10 per day. He had biked 60 miles that morning and just needed a place to sleep before going to his next stop in Oak Park.
I hemmed and hawed. I flipped aimlessly through the church directory, trying to think of who I could call. I looked nervously at the church member sitting in the office waiting for a meeting. What should I do? The last thing I wanted was a guest in my home that night, much less a complete stranger. I was sure my husband—in country for once—would be even less excited about this prospect.
“You can stay at my place,” I said, finally.
We could have an entire conversation about the safety and wisdom of this decision at another time, but the point to be made this morning is that Matthew turned out to be a blessing--first and foremost to the teenage girls on my block. Several young neighbors gathered to swim in our pool and observe our exotic guest, and were delighted to announce to me, “He sounds like Harry Potter!”
I expected to feel pretty good about doing a good deed, but it was the opportunity to hear Matthew’s stories that was truly a gift from God I didn’t expect.
Biking from Seattle to New York on ten dollars per day means Matthew relies daily on the kindness of strangers for shelter and food. He told of the varied reception he’s received at churches. At one large inner city church he stopped to ask for help, but before he even got the sentence out, and without a hint of eye contact, the answer was “no.” He saw another person sitting in a neighboring office and asked to talk to her, but was told “She’ll tell you no, too.”
Another pastor happily took him home but then quizzed him over dinner, “Are you going to heaven?” When Matthew answered “Yes”, the pastor followed up with, “But are you SURE?!”
Fire stations have been pretty hospitable places, but one time he shared his situation and was told “Sorry, we can’t help an able-bodied male in good weather.” Another time, a woman agreed to let him stay at her home, but just as he was getting ready for bed, she said to him, “If you steal from me, I’ll kill you.”
Another host showed off his very large arsenal of weapons. Matthew commented to me, “We just don’t have guns like that in the UK. What possible use do Americans have for an assault rifle at home, anyway?” A very good question, indeed.
But the best story is of Matthew’s experience staying at a monastery in North Dakota. I found Matt to be a chatty, outgoing guy (which certainly helps him survive an adventure that requires asking for help multiple times a day) but this was a contemplative monastery. In other words, no talking. Matt struggled with the concept of eating dinner in silence.
But the dinner was delicious—plates and plates of food. And then, out came one of the monks with the largest barrel of Rocky Road ice cream he had ever seen. The monks didn’t take dainty little tastes, either. Matthew described them heaping scoop after scoop into their bowls: A heavenly banquet! Manna from heaven!
The Israelites, on their Exodus journey, never received Rocky Road ice cream from the Lord. But they did receive just enough for the day. Each day, the Lord said, I will rain bread from heaven for you. And that is what the Lord did: “In the evening quails came up and covered the camp; and in the morning there was a layer of dew around the camp. When the layer of dew lifted, there on the surface of the wilderness was a fine flaky substance, as fine as frost on the ground. When the Israelites saw it, they said to one another, “What is it?” For they did not know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.” (Exodus 16)
But whatever it was, Scripture tells us the Lord kept his promise, and provided just what the Israelites needed each day.
In the same way, Matt has been fed with just enough for the day on his journey. It’s hardly ever Rocky Road, though. He eats a lot of baked beans and canned pears. Great protein, he says, and definitely within budget! In the beginning, even that menu posed a challenge, because in the interest of traveling light he didn’t carry a can opener. He stopped at homes, diners, and gas stations to ask help with that, too.
Matthew also related that at first, some people wanted to give him food to take on his journey. Soon, however, his bicycle was so loaded down with granola bars and energy drinks that he finally had to say no. Burdened by that extra weight, he could never have traveled the 35 miles a day required to reach his destination. Like the Israelites in the wilderness, he would just have to go out and gather enough for that day. Each day, he would have to trust others to give him his daily bread—people like me.
Before you start to think this is a sermon about how generous, loving, and saintly your pastor is, now would be a good time to confess that I was beyond crabby about welcoming Matthew into my home. I was not thinking Christian thoughts when I first considered this option. But then I remembered a few things:
“Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13)
“Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?” (Matthew 25)
“Lord, you know everything. You know that I love you. Jesus said, ‘Feed my sheep.’” (John 21)
“By this time it was late in the day, so the disciples came to him and said: ‘Send the people away so that they can go…buy themselves something to eat.’ But Jesus answered, ‘You give them something to eat.’” (Mark 6)
I can’t help thinking of the testing of the Israelites in the wilderness. The Lord said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day. In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not.” Matthew may have been the one on a voluntary Exodus, but it seemed that perhaps it was I who was being tested. In fact, the truth is, perhaps I was the hungry one.
I could have fed myself with a quiet evening at home. I could have fed myself with lying around in my comfy pants, watching the Olympics and keeping things as familiar as possible.
But, instead, even though I was reluctant; even though I, like the Israelites, grumbled about what the Lord was doing; even though I might have preferred Rocky Road to the manna being provided for me—the Lord fed me with exactly what I needed.
I made Matthew homemade pizza, but through the goodness of God I was the one nourished, filled with stories I never would have heard otherwise. Robert and I provided Matthew a place to sleep for a night, but we also got a chance to live vicariously a journey we will likely never experience ourselves. Matthew had been rejected, turned away, and judged by plenty of Christians already—but in showing him kindness (even reluctantly) we were the ones who learned something about the radical welcome of Jesus Christ. Robert and I even had the opportunity to share our faith in God with Matt, even as we marveled at his own faith in the goodness of people. These memories will last much longer than a quiet evening at home ever could, and we went to bed with full bellies and full hearts.
Jesus tells the hungry crowd in John chapter 6, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.”
Sisters and brothers in Christ, we all spend our days laboring for the food that perishes. It’s easy to be consumed by daily tasks, trying to fill our hungry bellies and starving hearts with empty calories and meals that will never satisfy: accomplishments, comforts, power, beauty, financial security, or certainty about the world and the people around us.
Then, out of the blue, walking through the front door—perhaps even dropped from heaven—comes a stranger, a neighbor in need, or an unexpected guest. And there, in the most unlikely of places, we just might come face to face with the “bread of God which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world”. That bread is our Savior Jesus Christ: healer, teacher, prophet, and stranger, despised and rejected, crucified and risen. Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Through the grace of God, and by Christ’s radical welcome, we meet him every week here at this table, in the bread and wine.
Let us go now to the banquet! Amen!
No comments:
Post a Comment