The Reverend Kathleen Killian
Proper 14B 2018
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
John 6:35, 41-51
August 11 2024
Strength for the Journey
I’m sure you all have them, business cards printed with pertinent information about a company or an individual. I have one in my wallet that I have carried for years as a reminder of “who to call” in times of need. It says: Strength for the journey. The Lord shall guide you continually and satisfy your soul (Isaiah 58:11).
This very message is borne out in our Old Testament reading this morning, when the prophet Elijah was given “strength for the journey” in the form of hot cakes and a jar of cool water. God’s angel said to him: Get up and eat, or the journey will be too much for you.
But Elijah also received more than physical sustenance. Just a day before, he had secured a tremendous victory over the henchmen of the idolatrous witch-queen Jezebel, who was now out for Elijah’s blood. Very afraid for his life, Elijah fled into the wilderness, where after a day’s journey, he came to stop under a solitary broom tree. Hot, exhausted, and alone, Elijah sunk into a deep despair. So troubled was his soul that before collapsing into sleep, he prayed to the Lord to die, saying: Lord, I have had enough. Take my life. I am no better, no different than my ancestors.
Elijah’s request of God may seem surprising, given that he had waged a triumphant battle against one of God’s greatest enemies. At the same time, however, I think many of us know what it is to feel like Elijah, that despite our successes we feel like a failure, that despite our faith, we feel hopeless. Hearts heavy and souls weary, we’ve had enough.
The journey of life can be hard. We may feel lost or defeated, but never are we lost to God who ever guides our feet; sending help, angels, food, rest, and hope—strength for the journey—in countless ways, both big and small. God never gives up on us. The angel of the Lord came to Elijah a second time, tapped him on the shoulder a second time, and said to him a second time: Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.
And so Elijah got up and ate and drank. His body was strengthened for the journey and his soul nourished. The Lord continued to guide him as as he walked for forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, God’s mountain, where he encountered the Divine Presence in the silence of a still small voice.
In our own journeys of life and faith, what carries us through? From where do we draw our strength? What is our foundational resource and staple sustenance? Do we understand “strength for the journey” primarily as a necessity or a gift? Our answers to these questions predicate how we understand Jesus—the bread of life—and how we come to the table to eat the living bread.
When we eat anything, we take into our bodies some form of life other than our own, that our own life may continue; in the Eucharist, this other life is Christ. “Bread” or food is nothing if not a gift. But this gift is one which we must also work for, and by that I do not mean pay for or earn. Last Sunday Jesus said to the crowds following him: do not work
for the food that perishes—in other words, do not work for death—but work for the food that endures for eternal life—work for life—which the Son of Man will give. Food for the journey is both gift and task.
In today’s gospel, Jesus repeats himself: I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. Might this be our work? to journey to Jesus and believe? to trust our hearts to him? But the crowd begins to grumble and complain: how can Jesus say this? This is the son of Joseph and Mary; we saw him grow up right in front of our noses, not come down from heaven.
But rather than trying to argue his case, Jesus tells the people to stop their complaining. They don’t know it, but he’s about to let them off the hook of their “work”—of coming to him and believing in him—by saying: No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me.
The Greek word for drawn is helkuo, which means to be drawn or led toward a center, not unlike the way a magnet draws to itself disparate iron filings, forming a unity out of multiplicity. The power of the Holy One does compel but is never coercive. We can and do resist the pull of the divine, and must make our consent to the lure of God’s love. Our God given freedom will never be abrogated by God. As St. Augustine puts it: See how God draws, not by imposing necessity but by grace.
It is doubly then that we aren’t to judge who comes to Jesus or not. We cannot “magnetize” or “save” anyone, only God can do that. But we can bear witness. Not only to the predicament of faith as we see in Elijah’s struggle into the wilderness, but to the providence of God in the food and direction given to Elijah as strength for his journey.
Finally, our “work” is to say yes to grace; to accept and receive, chew upon and digest the gift of eternal life given to us in Christ. This also means sometimes saying no to “life” that is futile or lifeless. Filled up as humanity is with so many distractions and things to do, so many concerns, how hungry are we, really, for Jesus? Maybe on the surface not so much. But underneath all of our busyness, tumult and division, is the hunger for love; to be known and to be loved.
Sometimes I wish our episcopal faith were a little less well-behaved. Imagine if our orderly communion were otherwise, folks rushing to the rail, elbows flying: Get out my way people, cause I’m coming through! I got me a fearsome hunger for Jesus!
To be hungry for Jesus means we come to the table with empty hands and a humbled heart, as a beggar with an empty bowl. Then there is room for Jesus to enter into our bellies and souls and lovingly lavishly feed us. And so, when the business and crowd of life starts to get in the way, I remind myself of what Jesus repeatedly said to Peter: feed my sheep; not count them, not improve them, but feed them; feed my sheep. As the psalmist sings today:Taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are they who trust in him!
As I see it, this is the one great purpose of the church: to share the wonder-bread of life in Christ—food that sticks to the soul—soul food of the highest order—a reality that comes from and bestows a higher reality. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, that the kingdom of God is made present and real, embodied here and now.
My dear friends, we are soon coming to a parting of the ways and will set off on new journeys. It can be daunting and unsettling, not knowing exactly what lies ahead, so let us remember that the Lord shall guide us continually and satisfy our souls (Isaiah 58:11). There is always work to do, so let us also remember to pause under the proverbial broom tree of God’s provision and shelter. Most essentially, let us remember that too there is gift and grace and living bread, the food of new and eternal life in Christ, and strength for our journey.