Throughout the Gospel of John, Jesus attempted to give His disciples and the crowds that followed a way to grasp who stood before them. Often, it came in the form of "I am..." statements that spoke about His character and essence. In today's passage, we encounter the first “I am” declaration when Jesus describes Himself as "the bread of life."  A claim like that would also perk up the ears of the Jewish crowd. He already had a captivated audience, having just pulled off a culinary miracle by feeding 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish.

Today, we encounter a scene where Jesus performs one of His most remarkable miracles – feeding the five thousand. Picture this: A vast crowd had followed Jesus, eager to witness His miracles and hear His teachings. As evening approached, the disciples grew concerned about the hunger of the people. Yet, they could hardly fathom the solution Jesus proposed – feeding thousands with just five loaves of bread and two fish.

After Jesus performed a miraculous healing on the Sabbath, debates, disagreements, and disputes broke out amongst the religious leaders. They were upset not only because Jesus had violated their interpretation of Sabbath laws but also because He had claimed equality with God, calling God His Father. In response to their angry accusations, Jesus speaks with passion and conviction - His tone more cutting and direct than usual.

Today's passage opens with Jesus near the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem, where a pool called Bethesda was located. An angel was believed to stir up the waters, and the first person to step into the pool each day would be healed. Among the many sick and disabled people waiting by the pool, Jesus saw a man who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. 

As today’s passage opens up, we find Jesus having a conversation with his disciples after encountering the Samaritan woman at the well. When they offer him food, he tells them about a nourishment that goes beyond physical hunger—a satisfaction found in fulfilling God's purpose and doing His will. Jesus compares the work of sharing the good news to farming: sowing seeds, waiting for the harvest, and rejoicing together.

In John 4:1-26, we find Jesus on a journey through Samaria. Now, to understand the significance of this journey, we need to grasp the cultural context. Jews typically avoided Samaria, choosing longer routes to bypass it due to deep-seated prejudices and historical animosities. However, Jesus, in His infinite wisdom, knew that He had to go through Samaria. It wasn't just a geographical necessity; it was a divine appointment waiting to happen.

In the quiet of the night, under the cloak of darkness, a Pharisee named Nicodemus approached Jesus with curiosity swirling in his heart. Perhaps he had seen the signs, heard the whispers, or felt a stirring within his soul. Whatever the reason, Nicodemus sought out Jesus, not in the light of day where eyes could see and ears could hear, but in the shadowy embrace of night. As Nicodemus grappled with questions, Jesus responded with profound simplicity, inviting him into a conversation, utilizing the metaphor of birth to illustrate the spiritual transformation required to enter the Kingdom of God. 

In John 2, we find two remarkable events that reveal profound truths about Jesus, His ministry, and His heart for us. First, we're introduced to Jesus' first recorded miracle, where He turns water into wine at a wedding in Cana (verses 1-12). This event holds profound significance, not just in its miraculous nature, but in what it reveals about Jesus' character and purpose.

In the quiet moments of reflection, we hear His gentle call: "Come and see." Andrew's response echoes through time—a simple "yes" that changed everything. As we, too, respond to His invitation, we're drawn into a journey of discovery, encountering the depths of His love and grace. But it doesn't end there. Just as Andrew couldn't contain his joy, we're compelled to share the good news with others (verses 40-42). In our words and actions, let's reflect the transformative power of encountering Jesus. 

In these opening verses of the Gospel of John, we are presented with a profound truth that has the power to transform our lives: Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, is the light of the world. Just as light dispels darkness, Jesus illuminates the dark corners of our hearts and minds, bringing clarity, hope, and purpose. 

If Hallmark cards were around in ancient Greece, there wouldn't be adorable pictures of hearts on those love notes, but instead there would be pictures of someone's intestines with a squeamish inscription like, "I love you with all my guts." Of course, I don't envision those cards flying off the shelves now, but back then, people believed that love and compassion lived in the gut, not the heart. To them, their emotions and feelings resided in their tummy. 

I'm the farthest thing from a thrill seeker. I like my feet firmly planted on the ground. As a kid, I settled for the merry-go-round instead of the rollercoaster. My dad eventually had enough of it and said we would tackle the fastest and tallest ride in the entire amusement park. 

I suffered from the Holy Trifecta of teasing in 6th grade. My nickname was Jellyroll due to my hefty frame. In addition, I had a mouth full of braces, a peach fuzz mustache, and thick glasses. The cherry on top for my tormentors was my dad, who worked as the K-Mart manager in our town. They had so much fodder for teasing that they rarely brought up the turtlenecks or sweater vests my mom forced me to wear.

Down three with the bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth. It was now or never. I gripped the bat tight, watched the ball leave the pitcher's hand, and swung with all my might. SMACK! The ball took flight and soared through the sky…

As Christ-followers, we are called to live our lives in service of others. Jesus dares us to deny ourselves and freely give our time, energy, and resources to uplift those He loves. Disciples of Jesus are made to carry the transformative love of God into spaces where others find themselves hopeless, suffering, and broken-hearted. Life is best lived when everything we do is leveraged for His glory and the good of those around us. Though, because we are human, we are often motivated to “do good” for the express purpose of bringing ourselves glory and acclaim. 

This past year was up and down. Learning to live with anxiety was such a blessing, and that foundation that I was standing on seemed firm and confident not to beat me against the rocks, but as 2023 was approaching its end, I was beginning to feel a bit beat up. My husband (and I) were dealing with some health issues that certainly felt like rain, winds, and some days like a Cat 5 Hurricane - storms with no meteorologist telling me they were coming or how long they would last.

There are places and spaces in our lives where we don't feel qualified, mature, or wise, so we say, "For the sake of the Kingdom, I'll step back and let someone else take this one." But what if we all step back? What if we all decide that we are not wise or mature? Who is then left to lead? A small few, if any. 

The only way we will ever share our lives, like Paul speaks about in his letter to the church in Thessalonica, is if trust is present in our relationships. Connection is exchanging life with one another as we trust enough to live safely within the care of our community. It is that challenging, relational topic of trust that we want to focus on today. Trust is required for us to experience life together and serves as the currency of our connections.

I’m not very techy. My young adult children scoff at my outdated iPod that houses my favorite playlists versus the newer streaming services such as Spotify and Apple Music. I keep my iPod handy because I love music. I love to sing. It’s one of my favorite expressions of worship.

In the Bible, God is referred to over and over again as our Heavenly Father. Like any good dad, God gives us guidelines that protect us and foster our growth. Though, God’s commands often rub up against our short-term desires. As a result, we view God as a kill-joy. Like teenagers who have yet to grasp why their parents “boss them around,” we turn our noses up at God’s instructions. We think God is trying to restrict us and make our lives less “fun.” We view Him as a strict parent who “lays down the law” just to control and manipulate us. So, we choose our own way—and reap the consequences.