Grace OPC Sewickley PA

Sermon Series: Lord’s Supper

Past Flesh and Blood to the Spirit

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, February 4, 1996.

About this sermon

The series closes with Peter’s call to lay down his life for the sheep, an extension of Christ’s own continuing ministry, including its ministry of judgment. Throughout John 6, Christ has been pushing his hearers past bread, flesh, and blood, to the Spirit and to heaven itself.

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Sermon transcript

This morning we are reading from John’s Gospel, chapter 6, beginning with verse 53. Give your attention to God’s holy word. John 6, verse 53. Then Jesus said unto them, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you.

Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, that dwelleth in me, and I in him. As the living Father hath sent me, and I live by the Father, so he that eateth me, even he shall live by me. This is that bread which came down from heaven, not as your fathers did eat the manna, and are dead. He that eateth of this bread shall live forever.

These things said he in the synagogue as he taught in Capernaum. Many, therefore, of his disciples, when they had heard this, said, This is a hard saying. Who can hear it? When Jesus knew that his disciples murmured at it, he said unto them, Doth this offend you?

What and if ye shall see the Son of Man ascend up where he was before? It is the spirit that giveth life; the flesh profiteth nothing. The words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are life. But there are some of you that believe not, for Jesus knew from the beginning who they were that believed not and who should betray him.

And he said, Therefore said I unto you that no man can come unto me except it were given unto him of my Father. From that time many of his disciples went back and walked no more with him. Then Jesus said unto the twelve, Will ye also go away? Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go?

Thou hast the words of eternal life, and we believe and are sure that thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God. Jesus answered them, Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil? He spake of Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon, for he it was that should betray him, being one of the twelve.

Because of our celebration of the Lord’s Supper this morning, rather than continuing our messages on Matthew chapter 2, we turn to John 6 for the purpose of completing our communion meditations on this passage. You may not have been keeping track of these messages during our observances of the Lord’s Supper.

For two years now, these messages have been focusing on John chapter 6. This morning I present to you the twelfth and last message in this series. We will be resuming our series on Matthew 2 next week, Lord willing. My point has been that John’s Gospel is pressing throughout its entirety toward chapter 21. You may want to have that chapter in front of you as we make our way through this message this morning, the last chapter in John’s Gospel. Specifically, my contention has been that John’s Gospel deliberately has chapter 21 in view and is pressing toward that conclusion, and specifically in that chapter, toward a consideration of the ongoing, continuing ministry of the Church. You will recall how this particular theme of the ongoing ministry of the Church comes out in this last chapter in John.

We move from Peter’s announcement at the beginning of that chapter, verse 3, where he says, “I am going a fishing,” to the risen Christ’s rebuke of Peter at the end of the chapter, verse 23, where Christ says, “If I want the beloved disciple, that is, John, to remain until I come, what is that to you?” In the process of moving from Peter’s announcement at the beginning to Christ’s rebuke at the end, we have indeed covered a great deal of ground that focuses upon the issue of the Church’s continuing ministry.

The chapter begins with Peter’s disorientation, his lack of focus, and his return to his former life, to things as they were. His inability, seemingly, to move forward beyond his life as a fisherman, despite the resurrection of Christ and even despite what Christ has said specifically to him on other occasions. But by the end of this chapter, Peter has been taught by the risen Christ himself about what it means to be a true shepherd for Christ’s flock. Peter will then enter a ministry over which Christ is absolutely sovereign, a ministry that, in Peter’s case, will be utterly costly, claiming his very life. There are several important points you should take away from this twenty-first chapter, as it focuses our attention on the Church’s continuing ministry. The first is quite startling.

The resurrection was not enough. The resurrection was not enough. Even after the resurrection, Peter is confused. He does not seem to know what he should do with himself. Even after a personal encounter with the risen Christ, as recorded in this chapter, Peter remains difficult, slow to understand, argumentative, and defensive.

Only through a continuing ministry from Jesus, one that constantly directs and rebukes, will Peter be able to stay on course and minister to and serve the Church of Christ. If even such a remarkable event as the resurrection, or even a personal meeting with Christ, fails to bring what is needed, what will bring what is needed?

Only Christ’s great gift to the Church, the Holy Spirit, whose presence especially in the latter chapters of John’s Gospel works to bring to mind what Jesus has said and done. What is needed in Peter’s case, as it is in the case of the Church, is the Spirit who continually exhorts, encourages, comforts, and rebukes through the Word.

That is, in and through the Scriptures. Consider the impact of this as John’s Gospel concludes. Here, in John chapter 1, Peter is subordinated. The most prominent of the disciples is himself subordinated to the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scriptures, which is the foundation of his ministry for his Savior. You see the consequence. Does the impact of this register with you?

In John’s Gospel, the last word of Christ to Peter, imagined by some to be the first Pope, is a rebuke. The overall tone and character of this passage is to convince you that Peter, as great as he is, is flawed and failing, and subordinated, in regard to the ministry of the Church, to the ministry of the Holy Spirit speaking through the Word. This is a Protestant position, not a Roman Catholic position. The Gospel of John is a prototypical Protestant gospel. It is an anti-papal document.

In this chapter, the purpose of John’s Gospel speaks powerfully not only to church leaders who would follow in Peter’s footsteps or serve in an office within the Church, but also to the Church’s membership, to those whom Jesus describes in this chapter as his lambs and sheep.

In other words, it speaks to you. Specifically, it speaks to you about your Savior’s love for you, in that he calls you his lambs and his sheep. You therefore belong to him. His care for you is through those whom he has called to serve you in his likeness, as mediated through the power of the Spirit according to the Word. This is what you should expect as Christ’s flock. In fact, this is what you should demand. It is yours by Christ’s revelation and disposition.

The image of lambs and sheep used by Jesus in this chapter is not intended to suggest that you, as church members, are merely dumb beasts that without resistance are blithely led to the slaughter by incompetent, negligent, or even cruel shepherds, or by those who are particularly interested in their own welfare and their own reputations.

The ministry that you should expect and count upon is the one that you observe in Christ himself, the one that Christ is determined to bring to expression in Peter and in all others who would follow in his train. Much has been rightly said about the failure of church leaders in this century. As they have ventured off into the lap of liberalism, or into the carnival atmosphere of religious vaudeville, thus turning ministry into showmanship. But you must remember that you, as a congregation of the Lord Jesus Christ, and as God’s people generally, must remember that you bear some responsibility for allowing, for tolerating, and even in some cases encouraging such ministry. The word of the living Christ comes to Peter so that he might know how to minister. That word stands in your midst so that you might recognize true ministry when you see it and insist upon it.

And finally, with regard to this twenty-first chapter in John, I want you to notice the centrality of Jesus Christ himself. For he is the source and the substance of true ministry. This is emphasized in the chapter by Christ’s sovereignty. He is the one who is sovereign in the events that transpire. He is the one who tells the disciples, after they have labored all night without catching any fish, to let their nets down on the other side of the boat. And, behold, they draw in a great number of fish. Jesus is the one who is sovereign, as the nets are drawn to the shore, and he already has breakfast prepared for the disciples. His sovereignty is evident, as he makes reference to the fact that those who come to him are, after all, his lambs and his sheep.

They belong to him, not to Peter, not to anyone else. There will be conformity on Peter’s part to Christ himself, as Christ makes plain to Peter: when you were young, you went where you wanted. When you were old, you will be taken where you do not want to go, and your arms will be stretched. John and the early Church understood exactly what that meant with regard to Peter. He would die a death that resembled Christ’s.

Thus the intention in the 21st chapter is not merely to speak about the continuing ministry of the Church, but to speak to us about that one who is the source and substance of that ministry, Jesus Christ. Those who would minister are merely entering into his ministry.

Thus it is always to his glory and credit and all of grace. If John’s gospel has been moving us toward its conclusion, which we find in this 21st chapter, is it not fair to say that all of the preceding material from chapters 1 through 20, in their own way, calculate to convince us of the very things that we find here at the conclusion? And if this is true, then what about chapter 6? Past messages in this series have already pointed out the many deliberate connections between chapter 21 and chapter 6. Without reviewing those obvious parallels for you this morning, let me simply say that chapter 6 in John powerfully proclaims Jesus Christ to be both the source and the substance of God’s eternal provision and our eternal enjoyment. And that we are beckoned by this sixth chapter of John to come and to feast upon him.

But how will we feast upon him? That becomes the question of John 6. In the continuing ministry of the Church, how will we feast upon him? How will Jesus Christ be ministered to his people in order to benefit them? How will he do this specifically if, being raised, he is also ascended to heaven? How will those who have office—those who are called to official ministry in the Church—serve Christ’s flock in this regard? How will Christ’s flock appropriate and appreciate this ministry?

John 6 begins, as you know, with the feeding of the 5,000, the multiplication of the loaves and the fishes. But can Jesus’ ministry and the ministry of those with office who follow him operate at the level of bread and fish? For it to do so means that the bread and the fish will be but tokens of Christ’s ability to supply physical provision for the resolution of temporal earthly hunger. We cannot stop at bread and fish. For the multitudes and the disciples in this chapter have a greater hunger still—one which can be satisfied only by Him, that is Christ, and by the deepest participation in Him.

His flesh is true bread, and his blood is true drink, he says. You must move from the bread and the fish to the flesh and the blood. The movement in John 6 is deliberate. Hear them as you make that move in this chapter. These provisions of flesh and blood are meant then to set before us eternal delight in God Himself, as found in Christ.

But as with the bread and the fish, so also with the flesh and the blood. You cannot stop with the bread and the fish, and likewise you cannot stop with the flesh and the blood. Can Jesus’ ministry and the ministry of those who with office follow after him operate at the level of the flesh and the blood, simply and purely? For it to do so means that the flesh and the blood will be but tokens of Christ’s sacrificial death for a salvation undefined and unassured. Here will be a ministry, then, that tends to focus upon and end in the cross, and that only.

So Christ keeps pressing His argument. He presses on in His argument, just as He will in His ministry. Jesus’ ministry does not end short of resurrection and ascension into glory, thus neither will His argument. We must not stop with the flesh and the blood; we must go on to glory, or as Jesus says in verse 63, we must press on to the Spirit. The Spirit mediates to us through the Word, the flesh and blood of Christ, for our true and proper provision in our communion with Him.

Beyond the bread to the flesh and the blood, but then beyond the flesh and the blood to the Spirit with the Word for proper and true feasting upon the glorified living Christ. Not a mere earthly meal, not a sacerdotal partaking of mere flesh and blood, but a banquet in the Spirit by the Word for the full satisfaction and glory with the Savior who reigns in the realm of the Spirit, having come there through the piercing of His own flesh and the shedding of His own blood for the sins of His people. True ministry perseveres with the argument of Christ, as true ministry perseveres with the life of Christ until it reaches its appointed end in ascended glory. And true ministry labors in light of these things.

Christ’s true people desire nothing less. You do not want mere bread. You do not even want mere flesh and blood, even the flesh and blood of Christ. You do not want to stop at the cross. You want to go on to glory. Do you not? You hunger for the true things, for the ultimate things, for the eternal things. Even as you partake of this supper, you see past the bread and the cup to heaven. As we conclude this message, I want you to notice the parallel development in John 6 and John 21.

In John 21, neither the resurrection by itself nor a personal visit from Christ was sufficient to produce true ministry in Peter. Only the abiding presence of Christ in the Spirit through the Word could accomplish that. In John 6, neither the bread by itself nor the flesh and blood, merely conceived, could provide God’s eternal provision or our eternal enjoyment. Only Jesus Christ in the Spirit through the Word, only Jesus Christ glorified into the realm of the Spirit, in whom and with whom we have communion through His Word, can do so. Won’t you press on, for the sake of this ministry here, toward these higher matters?

Surely we cannot desert our Savior, but are compelled with Peter to confess: Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. All that we need, O God, is wonderfully set before us in Your Word. And therefore, O Lord, we would not think of Your Word less than we ought. We glory in You, in Christ our Savior, in the ministry that He performs for us on our behalf. And we delight, O God, in the significance of the Word to us, that all servants, whether apostles or disciples, are subordinated to that Word, and we also are subordinated with them.

But Father, we ask that the Word would always prove to be to us no dead letter, but living and vital, even as the Spirit makes it alive so that it may richly and wonderfully communicate to us our union with our Savior in glory. And Father, may it please You to grant ministers of Your Word who understand these things and press on in regard to them. And at the same time, grant congregations who understand these things and insist upon them. This we ask through Christ, the one who even now ministers to us.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

February 4, 1996
Separated from the Crowd

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, December 3, 1995.

About this sermon

As the crowd departs, Jesus separates his true disciples from it, forming them into the church gathered around him as the source and substance of their eternal provision. Before the church ever ministers to anyone, Christ has already ministered to it perfectly.

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Sermon transcript

Give your attention to God’s holy word. Jesus is speaking here. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread your ancestors ate and then died. Whoever eats this bread will live forever.

He said these things in the synagogue while teaching in Capernaum. Many of his disciples, when they heard this, said, “This is a hard saying. Who can listen to it?” When Jesus knew in himself that his disciples were murmuring about it, he said to them, “Does this offend you? What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the Spirit who gives life. The flesh profits nothing. The words that I speak to you are spirit and they are life. But there are some of you who do not believe.”

For Jesus knew from the beginning who those were who did not believe and who would betray him. He said, “Therefore I told you that no one can come to me unless it has been granted to him by my Father.” From that time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. Then Jesus said to the twelve, “Will you also go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. And we believe and are sure that you are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus answered them, “Did I not choose you twelve? And one of you is a devil.” He was speaking about Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon, for he it was who would betray him, being one of the twelve. The range of John 6 is marvelous to behold.

We move with Jesus through the following of the multitudes, who catch up with him on the east side of the Sea, on the side of the Sea of Galilee, and there he ministers to them, feeding five thousand men at once, plus women and children. We also, in this chapter, see Christ coming to his disciples who have set off from the shore by boat. They, in the night, are caught in the darkness and in the midst of the storm, when Jesus walks upon the water, coming unto them, and then stills the storm, bringing them safely to their desired haven. We see Jesus also coming to Capernaum, where in the synagogue he engages the multitudes who have tracked him down.

And there he speaks with them about the meaning of the meal that he provided in the wilderness. He gives them instruction about the truth concerning himself and his kingdom, indeed for those who can hear, only to witness the murmuring of the multitude, a murmuring that echoes the complaint of the children of Israel many centuries earlier, and then to witness the departure of many disciples who had been gathered to him, who had followed him adoringly up to this point, to the conclusion of the chapter and the exchange between himself and Peter, for a marvelous conclusion indeed.

Now, John 6 has as its goal, make no mistake about it, the proclamation of Jesus Christ. That is the intention. Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, who is the source of eternal provision and satisfaction for God’s elect. In fact, as John 6 so powerfully proclaims, Jesus Christ is not only the source, but the very substance of our eternal provision and enjoyment.

Truly, we who come to him feast upon him. In this declaration, Jesus Christ, in the course of this chapter, is declaring himself the one true, final, covenantal head—the one to whom his people are bound in the deepest and most intimate union as they receive him into themselves. Mark this: as they receive him into themselves, this is represented by their eating the bread and drinking the wine, the sacrament itself rising from the words spoken by Jesus in this context. Indeed, the bread and the wine are symbols of Christ’s body and blood.

Jesus is therefore utterly unique, and he is uniquely so as the covenantal head of his people, far surpassing all previous covenantal heads. Most particularly, in John 6 and throughout the entire Gospel of John, Jesus is presented as the covenantal head who far surpasses the figure of Moses. Moses did not and could not provide eternal provision or lasting satisfaction, nor was he in his person the substance of such things. Therefore, Moses is not, and could not be, the one to whom God’s people are bound in the deepest, most intimate covenantal union for their eternal well-being.

As John makes plain earlier in his gospel, the law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. John 1:17. And as Jesus himself makes clear in this very context, in John chapter 6, he says, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread from heaven. I am the living bread that came down from heaven.”

But it is very important for you to understand this: the consideration of your Savior as he is presented in the Gospels, and even in John 6, is never meant to stand alone. It must also include those who are joined to Christ.

He gives Himself to them. So yes, the divine interest in John 6 is to proclaim the uniqueness of Jesus Christ, to be sure. But it is also to declare to you your own distinctiveness. The uniqueness of the Church, the uniqueness of the people of God, the objects of His choice. He is electing grace, and His determined sovereignty.

Presented to you then throughout the course of this chapter will also be a message about the uniqueness of the Church, the uniqueness of her ministry and her life. This is very much in keeping with what I have said to you here regarding the overall intention of John’s Gospel. Earlier in this series of messages on John 6, I pointed out the remarkable and numerous parallels between this sixth chapter and the last chapter in this Gospel, chapter 21. Now, I am not going to repeat for you this morning the list of the parallels that we observed between these two chapters, but let me remind you of something that is central to that twenty-first chapter, namely, Jesus’ interrogation of Peter.

You remember it. This is after the crucifixion. Christ has been raised. He has met Peter and some other disciples on the shore. And now, three times, Christ asks Peter if he loves Him. And three times, Peter responds that he does, with increasing distress, as you may recall. But you will also remember that Jesus responds three times to Peter’s answers by telling Peter that he must tend His sheep.

The tending of the sheep is very much in view as the Gospel comes to a conclusion. I am suggesting to you that the tending of the sheep is very much in view throughout the Gospel in its entirety. The utter supreme distinctiveness of Jesus, but also, and this in keeping with the Savior’s love, the uniqueness of the people to whom He gives Himself.

He would not consider himself apart from those he loves. But how will Peter tend Jesus’ lambs? In order to answer that question, Peter himself, and all who would stand in office after him as shepherds over the people of God, must pay closest attention to the ministry of the great Shepherd and Bishop of their souls. Living in Him, they must minister from Him. But just how does Peter, and the rest after Peter, pay closest attention to Christ, live in Him, and minister from Him?

Are they left to their own devices? Are they left to make things up as they go, inventing the rules of the game as they progress? Are they left to their own religious interests, or to some newly discovered religious zeal that Jesus has awakened in them, by which they might hope to do good and even to improve humanity, because they have been impressed by His personality? Or are they left to mystical and supernatural experiences? To their own dreams? To their own religious experiences? To voices in the dark of night?

And what about collective wisdom, preserved and expressed in traditions that have arisen around them, in which they themselves have been raised? Neither Peter nor any who would stand with him can turn in these directions if they are genuinely to pay closest attention to their Master and live from Him in their ministry. Rather, they must turn to that record and to the true memory now deposited for ministry. They must turn to His words. Peter, with all who would stand with him, must return to the account of Christ’s ministry in order to understand and then to progress in the performance of their own ministry.

And with such ministry, the Church herself is better able to comprehend her own service and her own life. Now, as I said earlier, the Church and her ministry, as well as her life, are just as much to the point in John 6 as Jesus Christ’s unique personage.

So where do we find the Church in John 6? We find the Church in the disciples themselves, do we not? Note the early verses of the chapter, how Jesus effectively separates the disciples from the multitudes. The multitudes themselves will serve as a figure in which we can see the Church, to be sure. Yet at the same time, you recognize that Jesus makes a distinction between the multitudes and the disciples, and it is specifically in the disciples that we are to see the Church.

We see the Church in ministry, for example, in verse 13 of this sixth chapter, where the twelve baskets are gathered from the leftover fragments after the feeding of the five thousand. These twelve baskets, one for each of the twelve disciples, and corresponding to the twelve tribes of Israel, represent the provision for the Church, the new Israel of God, which is served by the apostolic ministry. The Church is also in view, even in her ministry and in her life, in verses 16 through 18 of this sixth chapter, in the passage that describes the storm-tossed disciples.

Understand the meaning of what is taking place. Grasp the significance of all that is occurring. The Church in the boat has set out upon the sea, which is as turbulent as the world, hostile to the Church and to her mission. As the Church has set out in this way, she has not yet reached her destination, for Jesus had not yet come to them. Verse 17. That is, his second coming had not yet taken place.

But surely Jesus Christ is coming to His Church, as surely as He came to those disciples. And when He does, the raging nations will be calmed, opposition will cease, and the Church will immediately reach the destination she seeks. The Church is likewise seen in the closing verses of this chapter, the verses we read this morning.

Peter makes his great statement in verses 68 and 69, and in this statement we are given a capstone confession that must now distinguish every true assembly of Jesus Christ from the many religious detractors and deniers of the faith. But even as the Church makes her confession over against unbelief, she must know that as certain as there was a Judas among the Twelve, there are false members within her walls. And so it shall be until the consummation.

So the Church is very much in view as you read through John 6. Do you want help in understanding how you are to read your Bible? Read it first of all and foremostly to find Christ, and read it to find the Church and yourself within the Church. But there is more to the Church’s ministry and life in John chapter 6 than these passages we have already noted in which the disciples are prominent.

You see, and here is the glory of it, the Church is also present in Jesus himself and in all his actions. The Church is also present in Jesus himself and in all his actions. What I mean by this is that Jesus’ ministry in this sixth chapter of John is the pattern and even the substance of the Church’s ministry. Before the Church ministers, Jesus ministers. Before the Church, in its imperfection, takes up service to Jesus Christ, Jesus himself has performed perfect service. Do you know what John tells us in verse 11 of the sixth chapter?

He tells us: “And he took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted.” This differs from what you might find in other Gospels, that Jesus himself distributes the loaves and fishes. Before there is any distribution by the Church, Jesus distributes himself, the provision in view. The disciples then, and the Church subsequently, whatever distribution they make, is only an entering into Christ’s sovereign and gracious action, which is complete, full, and perfect, and thus the magnification of grace.

Verse 19, Jesus walks on the sea. The disciples and after-disciples, the Church, whatever survival and victory they have in the midst of the dark, raging hostility they must endure from the world, is only an entering into the tranquil fearlessness and supernatural power found in Christ. Our Christ not only comes to us upon the raging waters to take us home, he crosses the sea for us so that we might cross it in him. And verse 59, Jesus teaches in the synagogue, facing the opposition of religious power and dissent. The disciples and the Church—whatever integrity and faithfulness they demonstrate in their teaching and preaching in the face of fierce rejection and manifest obtuseness from religious authorities—is only an entering into the exalted, heavenly, spiritual, living words of instruction and preaching already found in Christ himself.

We are then boasting. Why is it so out of place for me to boast about preaching ability or ministerial skill? Why is it so out of place for the Church, in all of her ministries, to congratulate herself for a job well done? Why is it so out of place to spend time and money calling attention to herself and her efforts? Where is your boasting? Christ is all, and in all. Your boast must be of him alone.

Truly, for Peter and for the Church to feed Christ’s lambs, they must abide in Christ, who has the words of eternal life. But even more, Christ is that very word which is spirit and life to us. And He communicates nothing less in the word of the Holy Scriptures, our faithful standard and rule. In the Scriptures, including John 6, Jesus Christ is pleased to make Himself known, and to reveal to us the true nature of the faith into which we have been called. The very nature, even, of the bread we eat and the wine we drink, making clear to us at the same time the depth of our union with Him. Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, is both the source and the substance of everlasting provision and satisfaction. He includes in Himself the life of all His people.

Will you feast on Him in the Spirit and through the Word? Our Father, we ask that we may be drawn to Your Word, to the Scriptures, with greater devotion. Father, we pray that in this we may hear and understand how it is that we are taken beyond mere externals—those things, O God, that are of this creation—into those things which are eternal in glory. Lord, there is bread in this world. There is also bread from heaven. And Father, above all else, we would feed on the bread from heaven. We pray this now, asking Your help by Your Spirit.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

December 3, 1995
The Grumbling of the Disciples

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, November 19, 1995.

About this sermon

The grumbling spreads even to Christ’s own disciples, many of whom likewise conclude that Jesus is a madman and turn back from following him. What in Christ’s hard teaching provokes such offense, even among those closest to him, is the question at the center.

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Sermon transcript

We are in John 6, at verse 48. Give your attention to God’s infallible word. Jesus is speaking here. I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread which comes down out of heaven so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down out of heaven.

If anyone eats of this bread, he shall live forever. And the bread also which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh.” The Jews therefore began to argue with one another, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Jesus therefore said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in yourselves.” He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me, he also shall live because of me. This is the bread which came down out of heaven. Not as the fathers ate and died, he who eats this bread shall live forever.”

These things he said in the synagogue as he taught in Capernaum. Many, therefore, of his disciples, when they heard this, said, “This is a difficult statement. Who can listen to it?” But Jesus, conscious that his disciples grumbled at this, said to them, “Does this cause you to stumble? What then, if you should behold the Son of Man ascending where he was before?

It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh profits nothing. The words that I have spoken to you are Spirit and are life. There are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the beginning who they were who did not believe, and who it was that would betray him. And he was saying, “For this reason I said to you that no one can come to me unless it has been granted him from the Father.”

As a result of this, many of his disciples turned away, and we are no longer walking with him. Our God, we are aware that there are those who have long ago departed, long ago withdrawn, yet still identify themselves as disciples. Even to this day and hour, they remain in your church, seeking to transform the message of that church into something other than what Jesus proclaimed. Father, in our time, this matter has become desperate, and the faith of some appears to be overthrown. We ask, O God, for strength to persevere, even against this threat. And Father, may it be proved, by way of this trial, that we who gather here are disciples indeed. We pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Perhaps he read our faces before we turned away. Perhaps when we huddled together, some of us with our backs to him, he perceived our thoughts and what we were saying to one another. Anyway, he knew. He knew what we were thinking, and he knew what we were saying.

I suppose we were all somewhat self-conscious about the matter, embarrassed at how to present it in the best possible way, embarrassed for him, if not deeply disappointed, since we had had such hopes. But now those hopes were clearly dashed. Part of our huddle had been to discuss, yes, I openly say it, the ridiculous things we had just heard from his mouth. For the rest, we had to decide how we would leave, how we would disengage, how we would withdraw now.

We had been with him much longer than the vast multitude that had assembled, the multitude that had followed him these past two days. But we must admit that we, along with that vast multitude, now seem to share the same mind. Jesus was not in his right mind. Jesus was out of his mind.

We have been closer to him than most, with, of course, the exception of that small group that was intimate with him, and we have been loyal since those days of his obscurity, when he was the lowly preacher from Nazareth, then through this present period of popularity. Not that we did not have our difficulties along the way. Jesus, after all, was not easy to understand, and I admit it. We did become confused by many of his arguments and explanations regarding his actions.

At the same time, I say it again: we were loyal, and we were deeply impressed. We were impressed by the things he did. We were greatly moved by the people he attracted, the crowds that gathered around him, and we concluded: here is a man of great messianic promise. Our hopes, naturally, had been stirred, but as I said to you, we had our difficulties. Most recently, a number of us have made the journey from Capernaum to the eastern regions of Bethsaida, along the eastern shores of the Sea of Galilee. We, with a vast multitude, witnessed the feeding he provided from the loaves. And we were moved. We were moved by the growing support among the people. And we were moved more than the vast multitude, because we were far more aware of the potential in this man than of the cross. We could say that we knew him better. That we had been closer to him.

But even with that, difficulty arises. Our difficulty in this circumstance, in this setting, was with his sudden withdrawal after the miracle. He disappeared into the mountains. But not only was there difficulty with his sudden withdrawal, but also with his subsequent sudden reappearance.

These actions seem to us more than incomprehensible. Rather, they appear to us to suggest some sort of mental imbalance. Now, some of us did not make the trip to the eastern part of Bethsaida. We waited here in Capernaum. We interpret our actions, our decisions, as no evidence of disinterest in him or of betrayal, but as patient loyalty to him. Those of us who stayed behind and waited were troubled by what appeared to us to be Jesus’ discourteous behavior.

Many of our friends had made that trip, many who would be described by us as disciples of this man. But not only had they been left behind when he mysteriously disappeared, but now he so openly appeared in the synagogue here in Capernaum without them.

Our friends arrived in time, and they arrived with the vast multitude, as if there were now no difference between them and the crowd. Then, from what Jesus said, it was as if he were urging all of us—yes, we who had been disciples—and this vast multitude in the same direction, so that there would be no difference among any of us. He spoke to us all without distinction. He spoke as if there were no difference between us, those who had followed him, those who had been his disciples, and this large group of people.

He charged us all with seeking only to satisfy our hunger, as if we had no interest in what he offered, truly and sincerely. But regardless of the message, we judged, we who have followed him, we who have been described as his disciples, that his method was entirely wrong. This man seemed to have a serious problem with the normal patterns of human relationships. He lacked understanding of personal interactions and public engagement.

What we all needed at this time—certainly anyone could see it, certainly he should have been able to see it—was a new affirmation of his love and his acceptance of us. The crowd, as well as us, greatly needed a positive, personal ministry addressing our needs. But at this point, Jesus deliberately distances himself from the multitude that followed him, that had stayed out all night waiting for him, and then searched him out in the synagogue here at Capernaum. And for all of that, what do they receive? A rebuke. A lecture. A sermon.

Not to mention how we, his disciples, see him. We are the ones who have been pointing him out, speaking to everyone about him. And this is the way he treats us? The only conclusion we can draw, the only judgment we can make, is that he has become irrational. There is clearly something about the dynamics of the entire situation that escapes him. We all can see it. Why cannot he? And now he is full of accusation. He is full of accusation that we do not believe.

He surrounds himself with the claim that all whom his Father gives him will come to him, as if it is part of a divine plan that we, we mind you, understand. In the midst of this setting and this message, which would certainly cause anyone to be upset, distressed, or perplexed, they raised their voices. Yet he seems to be utterly serene and unflappable.

He seems to be so certain about who he is. He calls himself the bread of life. He suggests that he is greater and higher than Moses. He implies that the bread he is able to give is better than the bread our fathers ate in the wilderness. And he is just as serene and unflappable in his certainty about his eternal significance. He says that on the last day, he will be the agent for the resurrection of the elect.

At this point, the grumbling and murmuring of the authorities in the synagogue and the multitude around them began. But we remained silent, mind you. The noise from the assembly and the synagogue seemed to become overwhelming. Yet, as angry as these people already were, Jesus appeared to press them further. He seemed to provoke them deliberately. Yesterday he had withdrawn from these people; today he intentionally provoked them. We could not believe what was happening. Everything had seemed so perfect. It was almost as if we were on the verge of witnessing the realization of the messianic kingdom right there, and now it was all crumbling around us. We could not believe our ears.

We are astonished by his words about being the bread come down from heaven. But now he moves directly into mockery and jeers, making his position even more difficult to accept. He tells the multitudes—those of us standing there, those of us hearing it—that eternal life is found only by eating his flesh and drinking his blood. He is mad.

It was at this point that we who are identified as his disciples huddled together. We were stunned. What investment we had made in him. What a bright light he had been for us and to us. And now we had become witnesses to his madness. Right before everyone, right in front of all these people. Many of whom were our acquaintances, many of whom we had spoken to about him. But now it appeared that we were not to escape his scrutiny. He had offended the majority of those gathered, but now he looked at us.

We must understand. We were content to let the matter rest. We were content to withdraw quietly, without comment, without disturbance. But he looked at us, and as if he were some sort of dangerous person, he came after us. We already knew, we had already concluded, that no one could possibly accept this. I do not mean to be disrespectful here.

No one can accept this foolishness about eating his flesh and drinking his blood. But he continues speaking to us. He continues. He says to us, “What if? What if you must eat my flesh and drink my blood when I am not present? What if I were to ascend to the place from which I came? How will you eat my flesh and drink my blood, which I have commanded?” Oh, great.

First, he appears to have lost his mind over a notion of primitive cannibalism—eating his flesh, drinking his blood—and now he seems to be engaging in occult practices or spiritual mysticism. It would seem almost laughable, if we had not been so thoroughly embarrassed.

His mind had turned to another realm, which he claims mediates its power through the Spirit. But by such teaching, you see, he tears apart the reality and existence that we know, and undermines the integrity of that reality and existence. Yes, we believe in God’s Spirit, but we believe that God’s Spirit confirms and affirms life, its integrity, and its wholeness. We are enemies of the fracturing of life and existence, and we are friends of the integrity and wholeness of life and existence. But he assumes a separation here, suggesting that the Spirit gives life belonging to another order of things.

What then becomes of our tried and true beliefs—those things that we hold most dear? What becomes of our Jewishness and our Jewish faith, of our position by God’s choice? He speaks about life as if it were something he can grant, as if it were something we do not already possess. I tell you, at the foundation of our faith, we live. We live. We are already God’s elect.

He, on the other hand, makes it sound as if true faith, and thus real life and election, belong only to those who share his views. And he charges us, staring at us, with unbelief. Some of you, he says, do not believe. Of course we do not believe! How is it possible to believe this idea? So we withdraw. Certain that he, in his supposed religious superiority, is content with thoughts about divine sovereignty that work infallibly for the sake of those who remain and accept his words without question. Now, you must not misunderstand. I am not narrow-minded about any of this, and neither are my friends.

In fact, it is our openness to different perspectives that led us to Jesus in the first place. For we were already prepared to see Judaism in a new and positive light. We were ready to recognize that Judaism could progress. And I suppose that is why I and my friends continue to speak positively, to a degree, about our experience with Jesus.

Now later, of course, as you know, he is crucified. But even in this pitiful and tragic figure, we continue to see value. There was, after all, a very attractive vitality in his person, a very admirable and resolute disposition, a freedom from human judgment, which attracted us—a sense of moral strength. And in these qualities, all of these qualities, Jesus stands out. He excels, even exceeds the admirable qualities of many others, perhaps all others. And because of this, we are pleased to hold him out as an object of human interest, and in some ways, human aspiration. You see how open-minded we are, how broad and inclusive we are, how generous, how magnanimous in our spirits we are.

The wonders that we beheld, the works he performed—we do not know what to make of them. Perhaps it was, as some suggested, that the little boy with the lunch on the hillside shamed everyone else into bringing their lunch and sharing it. Perhaps that is what truly happened. His claims of preexistence, of eternity in heaven with his Father, his prophecies about his ascension, his statements regarding his vicarious sacrifice, his future role in the day of resurrection and judgment, and his assertion that he is the center of God’s consummate election—these are obviously the fantasies of an overwrought and imbalanced religious imagination. What a man! Aside from his madness, what a man! Truly, a man who can be appreciated only by denying him. Only by denying him—specifically by refusing to accept him as he presented himself. That is suicide. Intellectually, religiously, that is suicide.

But you see, in our hands, we who were his disciples, we who in some sense can still be described as continuing to be his disciples, Jesus becomes a much better figure. We had looked for a new and improved Judaism; now we have a new and improved Jesus. And I tell you, a much more useful figure than he was in real life.

And with that, I am sure you will agree. You can tell, cannot you, that I still have him on my mind? I will be honest with you. All right, I will confess it. I even dream about it. In my dream, I see rivers of blood. I hear the sound of marching legions. My dream becomes very dark. It is a nightmare. A nightmare of horror. And in it I see our holy city and our treasured temple burned. But then the strangest thing happens. It is almost as if there has been an interruption of time.

And I see white-skinned men, strangely dressed, carrying weapons that make loud noises and cause death to those at whom they are pointed. These men are supported by flying vehicles without horses. They are also supported by large metal machines moving across the earth, emitting fire and destruction ahead of them. I see emaciated figures. I perceive in the dream that I am related to these emaciated figures. They stand behind wire fences. I see smoke. I smell burning flesh.

And when it seems that I can no longer bear it, I remember Jesus in my dreams. Despite his madness and despite his teachings, which are contrary to what I now believe, when I remember Jesus, I gain confidence because of what he means to me. Admittedly, this is the opposite of what he taught. But I gain confidence because of what he means to me—namely, the inevitable triumph of humanity and the victory of the indomitable human spirit. In this way, the figure of Jesus is useful to me in facing the nightmares of life. Indeed, because of him, I can ignore them, at least I believe I can.

Let’s pray. Our Father, we pray that from this episode in Christ’s life, we would press on with those who are true disciples. And beyond those who would accuse your Son of madness, we would see in him your wisdom. O God, may we confess that we have nowhere else to turn, because Christ is your Son, the Holy One of God, and he has the words of life. Through him, we are brought into contact with another world, and this through the Spirit that he supplies and the word that he offers. We grieve, O God, for the state of the Jews, even as your servant Paul grieved, and as Christ himself grieved while looking over the city. But we are also grieved by those in whom the spirit of these departed disciples prevails and persists, even to the point of intruding upon the Church of Jesus Christ in our time. We ask, Lord, that we might stand firm in our Savior against modernism, against the disease and malignancy of liberalism, and that we, our God, would fully accept the word of our Savior and his message about himself and the truth concerning his kingdom.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

November 19, 1995
The Grumbling of the Jews

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, November 5, 1995.

About this sermon

The grumbling Jews of John 6 hear Christ’s hard sayings about eating his flesh and conclude that Jesus must be a madman. Christ claims that he came down from heaven as living bread, and that claim provokes deep offense.

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Sermon transcript

Tonight we are reading from John’s Gospel. We are in the sixth chapter. We are at verse 41. Give your attention to the reading of God’s holy word. We are reading from the forty-first verse through verse fifty-nine.

The Jews were grumbling about Jesus because he said, “I am the bread that came down out of heaven.” They were saying, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How does he now say, ‘I have come down out of heaven’?”

Jesus answered and said to them, “Do not grumble among yourselves.”

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him. And I will raise him up on the last day. It is written in the prophets, ‘And they shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. Not that any man has seen the Father except the one who is from God. He has seen the Father. Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes has eternal life.

I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness and they died. This is the bread which comes down out of heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down out of heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he shall live forever. And the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

The Jews therefore began to argue with one another, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”

Jesus therefore said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in yourselves. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.”

As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will also live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Just as the fathers ate and died, whoever eats this bread will live forever. He said these things while teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

For a moment, the thought crossed my mind. Our opposition to this man had a familiar quality. Our murmuring and grumbling reminded me of something from our ancient past, rising from our ancient history. But it was the difference in setting that struck me and caused me to dismiss the thought. This was a synagogue, after all—a synagogue in Capernaum, a settled place in the land of settlement, the land of our permanent inheritance, not the desert where we had lived in tents, moving from place to place. The temporary nature of that desert existence had given way to the settled, abiding life that we now know in this land of inheritance, which we believed was permanent. So yes, for a moment, my murmuring and grumbling about Jesus, who was present in the synagogue with us, brought to mind the murmuring of our forefathers in the desert. But I dismissed the thought immediately.

Certainly, I was justified. Or so it seems to me. For one thing, there was no disagreement among us who were there that day. We were all of one mind. Well, most of us, anyway. For most of us had followed Jesus the day before. From the shore, we had kept his boat in view as he crossed the Sea of Galilee from Capernaum to the territory east of the sea. He had ascended a mountain there, but when he saw us approaching, he descended to us. He came to us to minister. I suppose, to us. We had been following him because of the many wonders he had been doing. We had seen them. We were witnesses to them. Then, in this uncivilized terrain, we witnessed another wonder.

From a boy’s lunch, he fed us all. In this setting, though not at Capernaum at that moment, in this setting, though not in the synagogue at that moment, we had been struck by that note of familiarity. And we thought immediately about Moses and about the marvelous provisions given through him to Israel in the wilderness. And we thought, could this Jesus be the prophet like unto Moses promised to us in the Book of the Law? Could this Jesus be our leader, our Messiah, our King?

But before we could act upon our impulse, Jesus disappeared. He removed himself from us. His close associates, mostly a group of fishermen, had left. We knew that Jesus was not with them. So we stayed through the night, out there in the wilderness, despite the storm that came up and crossed over the Sea of Galilee. We stayed out there in the wilderness, waiting for our King, but he never came. And the next morning, when we could not find him, there, in that uncivilized terrain, we set out for Capernaum ourselves, hoping to find him in this place. And so we did, at the synagogue. But here, despite our readiness to believe, despite the form of faith we already possessed, here in the synagogue our real troubles began.

For after performing these wonders that piqued our interest, Jesus seems to distance himself from those wonders. He makes stinging criticism about our motivations, charging us with craving only food for our stomachs. We tell Him that we wish to please God, to work for God, and we ask Him in good faith, “What shall we do to please God, to work for God?” But after He gives us a cryptic answer about believing in the one that God has sent, we ask Him what He will do to validate Himself and to confirm our trust. And we judge this to be fair. We had already asked Him what we should do. He could have responded to us civilly when we asked Him to do something for us.

What work do You do, Jesus? We thought at the very least He should show us that He has the ability to give us a continual supply of bread, something comparable to what Moses supplied us in the wilderness—a continual supply of bread for our sustenance in this world. Moses, at least, was the one through whom the bread was provided day by day. We had a provision, did we not?

At the very least, Jesus should prove Himself now by providing us with evidence that He can supply us continually with bread for our existence in this life. But it is at this point that Jesus’ remarks become very strange. He began to talk as if there were limitations to Moses and his administration. He began to talk as if Moses’ administration was being superseded and displaced by something that centered in Himself, and as if a superior bread to the manna in the desert was now being made available.

We ask for something of the same kind. He claims He is going to give us something superior. We do not see it. Of course, some of us there leaped at the prospect of such bread. “Evermore, give us this bread.” But He then told us, and here things are stranger still, that He Himself is the bread of life come down out of heaven.

Who can understand such things? He went on to say that in coming down from heaven, He has appeared to do the will of His Father, which is to preserve those whom the Father has given Him and to raise them up on the last day. His language here also seems strange to me, for it appears to be strangely and inappropriately otherworldly and even universal in its implications.

If things are as Jesus seems to indicate, then what becomes of the promise to us and our special place in the economy of God? What becomes of the guarantees to us, through the patriarchs, through Moses himself, about the promise of this land to us? And our distinctiveness as the Jewish people? What becomes of that? It is at this juncture that I grumbled and murmured.

This man, Jesus, takes too much upon Himself, I am convinced of that. How can He be the one who comes down from heaven? We know His parents, His lineage. But at this objection from me and others, His response is that only the work of God the Father enables anyone to understand His truth. It is this one, then, whom God has gifted, He says, whom He will raise up on the last day.

Only this one, or those like this one, He says, know God truly. At this point, He cites Old Testament text as if appealing to Isaiah and particularly to Jeremiah and Jeremiah’s great prophecy about the coming new covenant of God. It would seem that Jesus is saying only those who are prepared to accept His transcendent, heavenly origin truly believe in Him, despite how they might be drawn by signs and wonders, or how intrigued they might be by these things. Only these truly believe in Him. Only these have true faith. Only these have been affectionately drawn by the Heavenly Father. Only these have eternal life.

It is as if he were saying, even if Jesus were to give us bread like that which came through Moses in the wilderness, it would not be enough. Such bread can preserve life only in this world, and only temporarily. Your fathers ate that bread and they died. On the other hand, Jesus said, I am the bread of life, the true bread—that is, the bread of the true, permanent, eternal, and satisfying realm above. To eat this bread, of which I am the person, means you will not die. As if to deliberately provoke me and those with me, we of Jewish lineage and heritage, we who have inherited the practice of avoiding the eating of flesh in our sacrifices—practices associated with pagans and Gentiles—Jesus says, seemingly in our audacity, that the bread he gives for the life of the world is his own flesh.

Now we know that this man is not only wrong and dismissible, he is insane. He is out of his mind. And further, he does not know when to stop. He goes on to add insult upon insult by telling us that we must drink his blood, as well as eat his flesh, if we are to have life in ourselves.

We are astounded. This is in the synagogue, the place for the proper preservation of the law and the commandments of God—the enduring authority of the commandments given through the Old Testament. He has the audacity to say such things. It is as if he sees himself as the culmination of the entire sacrificial system, yet also as one in whom that system is being transcended by requirements and definitions that take us beyond, even contrary to, the law’s prescriptions, such as the eating of flesh and the drinking of blood. These things are prohibited in the law. And there seems to be something else in his words.

It seems, if I am understanding the words of this man, that he is calling us beyond the physical provisions of the offerings themselves—beyond the physical food and drink—to something of a different order altogether. As if, for one moment, my mind sees something there, faintly, as if his use of the terms flesh and blood is in the context of this different order of thought and religious reality. But upon further reflection, I am convinced that the different order in the mind of Jesus—the different order to which the flesh and blood point—is not a postulation of madness.

What about you? Does the different order to which Jesus’ words beckon—this world of supposed madness, as seen by a Jewish audience—appear to you as utterly sane and spiritual, in the highest sense? Do you believe that Jesus had a pre-world existence with his Father in heaven? That he came from heaven to fulfill and to displace the old Jewish covenant, that his flesh and blood point us to a higher world beyond any sacramental element, and to a higher order in which we participate in the spiritual significance of the flesh and blood of this individual?

If that is what you believe, then you are as mad as he. Of course, it could be that neither he nor you are mad, but right. And that my murmuring, my grumbling, is just one more instance in which an Israelite has grumbled at God’s provision, and at the One whom God has sent to supply that provision. And if that is the case, then things are indeed desperate for me. Because I sense, if these things are true, then what I am observing in Christ and hearing from him is God’s final call. But again, this is but a fleeting thought, and I dismiss it.

Our great God, we acknowledge that our hearts go out to your ancient people. We would confess with the Apostle Paul that our heart’s desire is for their salvation. If we ask our Father, even at this late hour, that through the ministry of your Spirit, by the word of the gospel, and even by the testimony of the sacraments, you would be pleased to open their eyes and hearts to the message of truth.

We know, our God, that physical Israel is in anguish today. There is distress in the streets and in the cities of Israel, the nation. We know, our God, that these people are also scattered throughout the earth. But we ask you, Father, that it would please you to save many, that the darkness would end for them, that their confidence in the old system would fade, that the veil would be removed, and that the light of Jesus Christ would shine upon them. Convict them of a better inheritance, of a better mediator, of a better entrance into glory, in which their boast is in you and in you alone, through Jesus Christ, the King. And benefit us, our God, yes, as we profit from the scriptures of the Old Testament. But also, Lord, as we are instructed by your word through Christ, teach us how to pray and how to speak, so that the nations of the earth might see. We pray this, yes, in the interests of physical Israel, but also, Lord, in the interests of all the nations of the earth, that there would appear for your church and by your Spirit the one new man in Christ, in whom there is neither Greek nor Jew. Prepare us now for our participation in the sacrament, that the spiritual meaning of it all would make sense to us, and we would affirm your wisdom. We would affirm your glory.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

November 5, 1995
Evermore Give Us This Bread

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, October 1, 1995.

About this sermon

The crowd’s request, ‘Lord, evermore give us this bread,’ sounds pious enough, yet Christ rebukes them for it. Seeking Jesus for bread alone, rather than for himself as the bread of life, draws his rebuke rather than his blessing.

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Sermon transcript

Reading from John’s Gospel, we are in the sixth chapter, the twenty-second verse. Give your attention here to the reading of God’s Word, John 6:22.

The day following, when the people who stood on the other side of the sea saw that there was no other boat there except the one in which his disciples had entered, and that Jesus did not go with his disciples into the boat, but that his disciples had gone away alone, although other boats came from Tiberias near to the place where they had eaten bread after the Lord had given thanks, the people therefore saw that Jesus was not there, nor were his disciples. They also took shipping and came to Capernaum, seeking Jesus. And when they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, Rabbi, when did you come here? Jesus answered them and said, Truly, truly, I say to you, you seek me not because you saw the miracles, but because you ate of the loaves and were filled. Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.

For him has God the Father sealed. Then they said to him, What must we do to perform the works of God? Jesus answered and said to them, This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent. They said therefore to him, What sign do you show then, that we may see and believe you? What do you work?

Our fathers ate manna in the desert, as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat. Then Jesus said to them, Truly, truly, I say to you, Moses did not give you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world. Then they said to him, Lord, always give us this bread. And Jesus said to them, I am the bread of life.

He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that believeth on me shall never thirst. But I say unto you that ye also have seen me, and believe not. All that the Father giveth me shall come to me, and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. For I came down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him that sent me. And this is the Father’s will which hath sent me, that of all which he hath given me I should lose nothing, but shall raise it up again at the last day. And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life, and I will raise him up at the last day. You have to admit your bewilderment.

But at the same time, you are drawn to this Jesus. You have to admit your bewilderment. But at the same time, you are drawn to this Jesus. He most definitely excites your curiosity, but more, he engages you at the level of the deepest religious inquiry. He compels you in the interests of a common discussion, one in which you see him and yourself absorbed with the same religious preoccupations. So you, with literally thousands of others, five thousand men besides women and children on this occasion, had followed him. You saw the signs and wondered if he might not be the Messiah you had longed for. The Christ come for his kingdom.

You caught up with him east of Bethsaida, on the grassy slopes along the Sea of Galilee, and there he once more astounded you by feeding you, by blessing, multiplying, and distributing a young lad’s lunch so that everyone had enough. You with the others conferred and began to develop your plan to seize him and make him your king.

But how strange! Before you can reach him, he withdraws from you into the mountains. Leaving you, your enthusiasm still quite high, you are left with a faint impression that he might not approve of you or your ideas. His disciples departed that evening by boat. You watched them go. But you, with the multitude, kept vigil, waiting for him to appear. In the morning, however, you could not find him. And you wondered again, yes, faintly, your enthusiasm still quite high, could he have bypassed you?

Had he somehow joined his disciples? Had he somehow come to them without your knowing? There will be a day when the multitudes in Judea and Jerusalem will be unaware that Jesus has rejoined his disciples. But now you, on those grassy slopes on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, the question does cross your mind: How could he ignore us? How could he ignore such a loyal, adoring crowd?

At any rate, you finally decide to make for Capernaum in search of him, making use of the boats from Tiberius—those which bear the Caesar’s name and had washed ashore from the storm the night before. Despite your questions, which are mounting in your mind, you are obsessed with finding him, which you finally do at the synagogue in Capernaum. There you confess that his movements are a mystery to you. You ask him when he came to Capernaum, but he seems more interested in why you have come. He tells you that you seek him because he filled your stomach. And he intimates that you have no idea what that means.

You work, he says, for food that perishes, when it is eternal food that you need. Work for the food, he goes on, such as the Son of Man can give you. But the irony now of Jesus’ words escapes you, as he mingles language about your effort, your work, and the Son of Man’s gift. You cannot hear him. And you respond by asking what work you might perform that gains for you the approval of God.

There is an edge to your words at this point, because things are beginning to heat up. You are the one who tracked after him the day before. You are the one who spent the night outside on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. You are the one who has been questioning him all along. What is wrong with him anyway? Things indeed are beginning to heat up as he challenges you.

Approval from God is gained by believing in the One He has sent. Now you are angry. You are angry because Jesus keeps bringing this discussion back to Himself, focusing it on His own person, and keeps pressing you in directions that, for reasons that do not seem quite clear to you, you religiously resist. But now, in your anger, you lash out, and by your lashing out, you unknowingly disclose the very core of your religious posture. Having seen signs, you had followed Jesus, as it is written in chapter 6, verse 2. You had seen the signs, and you had followed Him. And now, having seen a further sign in the feeding of the 5,000, you still desire more. You are not satisfied.

And it is almost as if the religion that is at the very heart of you is a religion of profound dissatisfaction. And that, even though the previous day you had been filled with bread and fish, despite that filling from Christ and all that it signified, you remain empty and crave more. And such a condition defines the religious works that you espouse, the religious works that gain your attention, the religious works that you pursue. It defines the entirety of your religion.

Emptiness is a universal condition, answered only by effort—your effort. If not God’s, He works as well, you know. If not Christ’s, He must work. What work do you do? But you must understand this in your mind, in your thoughts. These efforts, these works, must always be measurable. They must always be visible, perceived by the senses, to satisfy you. The work, the effort, must operate at the level of what is obvious, at the level of this world, and at the level of provision in this world. This is, in fact, how you interpret the Old Testament, your own past history. That is the significance of verse 31 in that sixth chapter.

Bread from heaven, given to the fathers in the wilderness, was a supernatural provision, to be sure. But from your perspective, that miraculous bread was intended to provide you with a continuous supply of earthly provision so that you might endure in this world. Jesus, you are telling him, must give you bread like this if you are to believe in Him.

But Jesus now tears, yes, subtly but directly, into the foundations of your entire religious framework. The true bread, the heavenly bread, is not what the fathers ate in the wilderness, but what the Father gives now through the Son. And the bread of God is not meant to fill the belly for perpetual life in this world, but to give eternal life to the whole world by saving it into an environment of a completely different order. Yet still, you are not listening, as if you cannot hear. When Jesus speaks of bread for the life of the whole world, you continue to hear Him through your own categories, so that you say, “Lord, give us this bread always,” verse 34.

But your request betrayed you to him, even though you do not know it. Yes, you want this bread, because it must provide you with a continuous supply for provision in this world, and also because, in receiving it, you believe that you will have control over it, and thus over the whole world. Why, you will be the new Joseph, presiding over the storehouses of Egypt, and all the world will come to you in order to be fed. Here is the weapon you have always sought, and the domination that you have craved.

Indeed, more, ever more, give us this bread. Bread is power. Such bread, as you described, seems to be infinite power. But now Jesus drives home his point. He is the bread of life. We have a problem of feeding on him, but we also have a problem with such bread as far as the world is concerned. How do you distribute it? So now, Jesus, you are beginning to speak nonsense. He says, I am the bread of life, the bread from heaven.

According to him, anyone—wait a minute, there goes the control factor—anyone who genuinely comes to him and believes in him will be perfectly satisfied. And if they are perfectly satisfied in coming to him, they will not need you, the kind of bread you crave, nor will they be interested in distributing it. Jesus is very pointed now. He tells them that they have seen him, they have come to him in a sense, but they do not believe. Verse 36. You might have thought that Jesus lived at your level and was thus easily manipulated by the things that you are manipulated by. After all, you are part of a fairly impressive entourage that has been tracking after him. Certainly he will capitulate to you, will he not? Certainly if he knows what is good for him, he will capitulate to you. He would not dare alienate you.

That would be an act of foolishness. How can he expect to succeed if he alienates those who have a vested interest in what he has to say? And surely he does himself no favor if he goes about alienating Jews or Israelites. But now he says to you that everyone given to him by his Father will come to him, and he seems utterly unperturbed by the pressure you have brought to bear upon him. He is unimpressed. These, he says, he will give not perpetual life in this world, for that was never the goal, but eternal life. He says he will preserve them, and that he will raise them up on the last day for life elsewhere.

Those with whom Jesus is presently engaged have no real interest in life elsewhere. In the subsequent debates between the Church and the Synagogue, the Church would be face-to-face with an enemy that had no real interest in life elsewhere. Those who stand opposite Christ, who stand opposite his church, cannot see that far.

What about you? How far can you see? Is your real and true interest eternal life in the courts of the Lord? Do you believe in Jesus? Particularly now, that Jesus has been presented to you from this passage this morning, do you believe in that Jesus? Here is the word of encouragement to you if you do. You have been given to him by his Father. You will most certainly never be cast out of his grasp and his embrace. You will not be lost to him, but on the last day you will be raised up in your body, and that for the purpose of dwelling with him bodily forever, in perfect and complete satisfaction.

But marvel of marvels: The word from Jesus is, if you believe that the eternal life to which you aspire has already begun for you, and the satisfaction that so many seek, that so many see, is already found in him. Jesus is the fullness of the inquiring heart and the searching soul. He is perfect satisfaction.

We who believe know that this is true, and because we do, we come and partake in the sacrament, feasting upon Him so that we may be refreshed by the satisfaction that has been granted to us. Praise His name. Amen. Our God, we would not be those who continue to praise even beyond what You have given. For if this is true, it reveals in us a soul that will not be satisfied with the Savior and the salvation that He offers. We rejoice, O God, that You have granted us satisfaction in Him. Truly, we who believe do not hunger and do not thirst, but are satisfied with the provision that is mediated to us through our faith, the provision that comes from heaven. We rejoice in Your grace and love, Lord, and ask that we might not be led astray so as to chase things that promise satisfaction when in fact they can deliver none.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

October 1, 1995
The King Who Withdraws

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, August 13, 1995.

About this sermon

When the crowd tries to make Jesus king by force, he withdraws from them entirely. Why Christ refuses the kingship offered on human terms, and what that withdrawal means for those who would seek him only for what he can give, is the question probed here.

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Sermon transcript

Then those men, when they had seen the miracle that Jesus did, said, This is of a truth, that prophet that should come into the world. When Jesus therefore perceived that they would come and take him by force to make him a king, he departed again into a mountain himself alone.

And when even was now come, his disciples went down unto the sea and entered into a ship. and went over the sea toward Capernaum. And it was now dark, and Jesus was not come to them. And the sea arose by reason of a great wind that blew. So when they had rowed about five and twenty or thirty furlongs, they see Jesus walking on the sea and drawing nigh unto the ship, and they were afraid. But he saith unto them, It is I, be not afraid. Then they willingly received him into the ship, and immediately the ship was at the land with which they went.

The day following, when the people, which stood on the other side of the sea, saw that there was none other boat there, saved that one whereinto his disciples were entered, and that Jesus went not with his disciples into the boat, but that his disciples were gone away alone, howbeit There came other boats from Tiberias near unto the place where they did eat bread after the Lord had given thanks. When the people therefore saw that Jesus was not there, neither his disciples, they also took shipping and came to Capernaum seeking for Jesus. And when they had found him on the other side of the sea, they said unto him, Rabbi, when camest thou hither? Jesus answered them and said, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Ye seek me not because ye saw the miracles, but because ye did eat of the loaves, and were filled.

Labor not for that meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son of Man shall give unto you. For him hath God the Father sealed. Then said they unto him, What shall we do that we might work the works of God? Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.

That night, the wind blew fiercely across the sea. That night, following a most remarkable day, as glorious a day as you in your life have known. The wild night gales carried away nothing from your memory of what had transpired on that most remarkable day.

You, with so many others, followed the movements of Jesus, this most recent and most striking of preachers, who worked wonders on the sick, some of those wonders you had seen But then Jesus had crossed the sea to a secluded spot south of Bethsaida, and you and the multitude followed him on land, keeping in view his boat, as if you were keeping in view the very hope of your soul.

You saw from a distance his ascent of a mountain. with his close associates. But as you came closer, he graciously came down to you, and as if he had never left those heights of glory, he ministered to you by taking a young boy’s lunch, blessing it, and then distributing it to the vast multitude of which you were a part. You all were like an immense flock, flock of sheep pastured in the wide expanse of green grass, as if you were God’s own flock, just a bit of Israel to be sure, but those in whom all Israel was to be found. Jesus said you, and you were still Provision abounded, your portion overflowed. His close associates, after the meal, gathered up the leftovers, and amazingly there was a basket full left for each. At first, you sat contented and satisfied. with a sense that not only had you seen that you had experienced the kingdom of God, but then you were amazed and excited as thoughts filled your brain.

The fact that it was Passover season undoubtedly helped you turn your mind to Moses and to the provision of miracle bread through him to Israel in the wilderness. But further, you cannot help but think about Moses’ great promise that a prophet like him would appear in Israel, a prophet who would do great and mighty things.

A new Moses, but more, for this one would be one who is actually the object of Moses’ expectation, the object of Moses’ promise. Was this Jesus then the fulfillment of Moses’ promise? Was this Jesus the royal figure expected by Israel for so long? Was this Jesus the Messiah? This thought struck your brain. It struck your brain like a thunderbolt, not just striking you, but all those who were gathered with you. And you think in your mind now, all he awaits is our acceptance. All he awaits is our confirmation.

What he lacks presently is evidence of our confidence in him, of our willingness to pay him homage. Therefore, you say in your mind, we must show him our allegiance. We will take him, we will make him our king. We will declare then that the royal figure for so many centuries denied unto us is now and that the promise has been fulfilled, and that we have a sovereign leader who, in his sovereignty, is like the sovereigns of this world, but greater. Here, then, is our Prophet. Here is our King. Here is our Messiah. Here is our Caesar. Here is our Tiberius. and by him and with him we shall rule the world to the glory of the God of Israel.”

But as you move towards Jesus, he inexplicably withdraws from you, for you are unaware of what is going on in his mind. You are unaware that your approach to him reminds him of a scene earlier in his life, a desert scene, and in that scene Satan appeared for the purpose of offering him a crown, a crown by which he might be able to avoid the sufferings and the pains of the cross. Jesus sees nothing less. in your approach to him presently. Your interest in him is for the immediate domination of the world.

Neither are you aware that Jesus spies the fatal flaw of Israel as he scrutinizes the intentions of your hearts. A fatal flaw that expressed itself a thousand years earlier when Israel accosted Samuel the prophet and demanded that he give them a king like the kings of all the other nations. You have forgotten the Lord’s commentary on that occasion. For he had said to the prophet Samuel that the people’s request for a king was actually a rejection of him. Jesus knows that your taking him and making him your king is actually a rejection of him. For it is not him and his kingdom that you seek, rather you seek your own ideas about him, your own ideas about what the kingdom should be.

So he withdraws from you. and now you are bewildered. You have moved through a full range of feelings during the course of this day. First you have been moved by intense curiosity, then by rich and full satisfaction, and then by the excitement of your mind at the prospect that Jesus might be the Messiah. But now you are overcome by bewilderment.

How can this Jesus, if he be the Messiah, the King of Israel, withdraw from such a formidable and willing assembly? Why, the numbers alone, the statistics alone, are enough to confirm him in his quest for recognition and acceptance. we here together make up an impressive entourage, do we not? If not the beginning of a great army. At the very least, the report about the numbers assembled here will impress everyone who hears about them and press upon them Jesus’ popularity. and the unmistakable stamp of his success.

But if Jesus’ withdrawal into the mountain yesterday left you bewildered, what about his subsequent withdrawal that leaves you with the rest of the multitude on the seashore presently, and Jesus completely gone from the scene. But still, in the midst of this, despite your deludiment and confusion, you drive for those things you see in Jesus. You drive for those things which you imagine Jesus has come to supply you. Specifically, and yes, In a pronounced fashion, your specific needs and wants. The night has passed. The wind has died down. The waters are calm, like a sheet of glass in front of you. It is safe for you now to cross the sea.

And how opportune that the storm of the previous night has brought to shore the boats from Tiberias. Like some great joke, some supreme irony, you, a Jew, enter the boats that bear the name of the Emperor of Rome. And you enter those boats that bear his name, and you cross that sea that also bears his name, for you will notice in the first verse of chapter 6, the Sea of Galilee is called the Sea of Tiberias. So you enter the boats that bear the Emperor’s name, and you cross the sea that bears his name as well, thinking yourself on a mission, that upon finding your Messiah will mean that you with him bring down Gentile world power for the sake of establishing your own, in which all of your needs as you have imagined them, will be carried. But the joke is on you, for these are Tiberius’s boats, and this is Tiberius’s Entering them as you have with the attitude of mind and soul that you have doesn’t bring Tiberius to your feet, it brings you to his.

For after all, both you and Tiberius seek the same thing, though he a Roman and you a Jew. And the thing that you seek is not Jesus, as revealed. through his own sovereign self-disclosure. Instead, you with Tiberius, the emperor of Rome, seek the world. And you seek the bread of the world. You seek one who would satisfy your own conception of your needs in the world. But Jesus is from a completely different world, a world in which you have very little interest.

He offers you other bread, he himself being bread, even being living bread that comes down from heaven. He has a mission, he has come He hasn’t come in order to grant you all of these special needs which you have imagined you have. He hasn’t even come to grant you the better life, or the comfortable life, or even the safe and sane moral life by which you might forge an impeccable culture and civilization.

Instead, he came to grant to his own even those to whom he comes in his sovereignty, even as he comes to them across the waves of the storm-cast sea. Instead, he comes to grant to his own eternal life in the kingdom above. Here are those, then, to whom he draws nigh. coming to them amidst the chaos of Tiberius’s sea and world. To whom he says as he draws near to them, it is I. Don’t be afraid. These are those, then, that recognize him even as he draws near to them. and in their recognition of him give evidence of the fact that they have been drawn by him, by his sovereignty. They by faith receive him, knowing then the supernatural peace, the peace of heaven that he has come to give, and also the fullness of that accomplishment of everything that is required before God. that full accomplishment found only in Him.

These, then, to whom Jesus comes, with whom He sails, are those who see past earthly bread to the true bread, and in the true kingdom. partake to their eternal satisfaction. If you seek the true bread, the true kingdom, the Christ of truth, you are among those for whom Jesus Christ himself has come. You are among those whom he has drawn to himself, and you are the true Israel of God, in whom the glory of God, even the glory of eternal life, now resides. Are you among those who love the true who have an interest in true life, life in the true kingdom, who know Christ according to truth. If so, you will live forever in the presence of your God.

Father, if we are fools and we seek Christ’s kingdom by the means of Tiberius, we ask you, Lord, that we will deal with our hearts. For if, in coming to you and in coming to your kingdom, we expose the fact that all we have desired is just one more earthly domain. Forgive us, Lord, and shower your mercy upon us. Father, we would be your children, not in haughtiness or in self-righteousness, but with all humility, knowing that if we have come to you, you came to us first. that we might be moved away from our infatuation with the things of this life and this world, to love you, your ways, your kingdom, your truth. As we approach the table, O God, we ask that we may have faith that we may partake of the true bread and benefit from our partaking. We pray this in Jesus’ name.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

August 13, 1995
Feed My Sheep

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, April 2, 1995.

About this sermon

Similarities between John 6, John 21, and even John 2 show that when Christ tells Peter to ‘feed my sheep,’ he means something far beyond bread. What Peter is to give, like Christ himself, is his very life for the sheep.

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Sermon transcript

This morning, for our scripture reading, we are turning to John chapter 21. First of all, John chapter 21. We are beginning at verse 15. Give your attention to the reading of God’s Holy Word. So when they had dined, Jesus said to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, do you love me more than these?

He said to him, Yes, Lord, you know that I love you. Jesus said to him, Feed my lambs. He said to him again the second time, Simon, son of Jonas, do you love me? He said to him, Yes, Lord, you know that I love you. Jesus said to him, Feed my sheep. He said to him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, do you love me? Peter was grieved because Jesus said to him the third time, Do you love me? And he said to him, Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you. Jesus said to him, Feed my sheep.

Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you girded yourself and walked wherever you wished. But when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and carry you where you do not wish. He said this, indicating by what kind of death Peter would glorify God. And when he had said this, he said to him, Follow me. Then Peter, turning around, saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following, the same who had leaned on his breast at supper and had said, Lord, which one of us will betray you? Peter, seeing him, said to Jesus, Lord, and what will this man do?

Jesus said to him, If I will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow me. Then this saying spread abroad among the brothers that this disciple would not die. Yet Jesus did not say to him, He will not die, but, If I will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? This is the disciple who testifies of these things and wrote these things, and we know that his testimony is true.

And there are also many other things which Jesus did, and if they were written one by one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written. Then, turning back to John chapter 6, verse 11: And Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed to the disciples. And likewise the fish, as many as they would. When they were filled, he said to his disciples, Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be lost.

Therefore, they gathered them together and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained over and above those who had eaten. There is a sense in which John chapter 6 is crucial to our appreciation and our appropriation of this gospel from John in its entirety.

This chapter is what we might call a decisive chapter in John’s gospel. Just as this chapter presents in its closing verses the parting of the ways between those who would follow Jesus and those who truly follow him, you can note verse 66 in that regard. So this chapter as a whole serves as a dividing line for all in the Church when it comes to understanding the entirety of this gospel and its message.

Now, the importance of the sixth chapter of John along these lines is similar to the importance of the parable of the sower in another context. You might recall what Jesus says in Mark chapter 4, verse 13, as commentary on that parable. He tells his disciples that if they cannot understand the parable of the sower, then they will not understand any of his parables. Well, by the same token, if we do not understand the sixth chapter of John, how will we then understand anything that is communicated to us in this grand gospel? That this is, in fact, the case with respect to the sixth chapter of John seems clear from what we read throughout the gospel.

I say this, not simply because of the division that occurs within this chapter between the two groups of disciples—the would-be disciples and the true disciples—but because of the clear parallels between this chapter, the sixth chapter of John, and the final chapter of this gospel. We will not spend much time this morning making all the precise connections between these two chapters, but enough to support my claim that there is a meaningful link between them.

Note, for instance, that chapters 6 and 21 in John both take place at the Sea of Tiberias, also known as the Sea of Galilee. In fact, the Sea of Galilee is referred to as the Sea of Tiberias only in chapters 6 and 21 of John, and nowhere else in Scripture. You may notice that the opening verses of each of these chapters specifically mention the Sea of Tiberias.

Both chapters describe miracles that occur on the sea and on land. These events are connected. In both chapters, Jesus performs miracles involving the distribution of bread and fish to others. Both chapters use images related to shepherding. In John chapter 6, the people gathered for the feeding by Christ are described as being led to lie down in green pastures. This is a shepherd image. In John 21, there are also references to shepherding, as Jesus repeatedly tells Peter to tend or feed his sheep. Both passages speak about the disciples’ future ministries, and both chapters include direct interaction between Jesus and Peter.

It would seem, therefore, that with these obvious links between the two chapters, John chapter 6 serves as a doorway, a passage of entry into the final chapter of John, the concluding and conclusive chapter of the Gospel. It is as if John chapter 6 serves as a doorway for standing completely within the house of John’s Gospel. John chapter 21 is the point to which the Gospel as a whole is directed, with the sixth chapter being an indispensable part of that Gospel, so that the Gospel’s intention might be impressed upon its audience. What we have said is important for a number of reasons.

For one thing, it makes clear that John chapter 21 is not extraneous to the Gospel. John chapter 21 is not an appendage, nor an afterthought, as it has often been treated by interpreters and preachers. But neither is John chapter 21 a contrivance, an invention, or something tacked on to the end of John by someone other than the Gospel’s author.

This has been claimed by many liberal authors. John chapter 21 is as much a part of John’s Gospel as the sixth chapter. They are of a piece, they belong together, they work toward the same end, and they lead us to the same conclusions. Now, of course, it could be argued that the twenty-first chapter of John is the work of a very clever follower of the Gospel’s original author, who had read and studied the previous twenty chapters so well that he was able to imitate their style and mimic their content, all in the interest of adding his own interpretation to the Gospel in a concluding remark, for his own benefit within the community in which he lived.

But there is no evidence—absolutely no evidence whatsoever, as far as the manuscript history of John’s Gospel is concerned—that John 21 was ever separated from the text of this Gospel. It belongs to the Gospel. John chapter 21 is an integral part of the Gospel of John.

In fact, it serves as the mark at which John has been aiming all along in the writing of this Gospel. I take time to say this to you this morning, because every once in a while it is good for us to be strengthened in our confidence regarding the Scriptures as we have them. You may not be aware of all the arguments that have taken place over the years—arguments that seem to aim at tearing apart the Bible, removing entire chapters from the Scriptures, casting doubt on certain portions of Scripture, and causing the faithful to question whether they truly have God’s word before them. John chapter 21 is one of those chapters that has caused a great deal of controversy.

It is my contention this morning that John 21 is an integral part of the gospel as a whole, that it belongs, and that the gospel stands as a complete record from the servant whom Jesus chose to write it down. And it is deserving of your full confidence.

But the second reason that this observation about the link between John 21 and John 6 is important is because it suggests not just a door for entrance to the Gospel’s conclusion, but a key with which to unlock other passages in the Gospel. Since we are now holding to the importance of John 6 for understanding John’s Gospel as it leads us to the conclusion of the Gospel, it would not be surprising for us to find other passages in this Gospel that are particularly close to this chapter in direction, if not in content. Of note in this regard is John chapter 2 and the story of the wedding at Cana. This is interesting in itself, because as there is a link between John 6 and John 21, there also seems to be a link between John 6 and John 2. On the one hand, John 6 looks forward to the Gospel’s conclusion. On the other hand, it looks back to what has preceded. It seems to be set right in the middle of the narrative, bringing things together, as if it were a divinely placed center for the Gospel with respect to its message. Now, the relationship between John 2 and John 6 is quite interesting.

First of all, both passages are about feasts. The wedding at Cana and the feeding of the 5,000 are both about feasts. Secondly, both passages are placed near the Passover celebration. Shortly after the wedding at Cana, the Passover is mentioned. Chapter 2, verse 13. But note chapter 6, verse 4. Passover is also in view here. The events are happening at the same time, or shortly before, the feeding of the 5,000. But notice as well, both passages focus upon the inadequacy of provision for the feast. At Cana, the wine runs out. At the sea, for the feeding of the 5,000, there is hardly enough food.

Jesus steps into this situation as the resolution. If the wine running out means that the joy of the wedding feast has ended, Jesus has come to restore that joy. And if there is no provision for the people who have gathered to Jesus, Jesus will supply that provision from himself, through himself, and by himself, regardless of how many there are.

There is always sufficient provision found in him. But notice also, in this parallel between John 2 and John 6, there is no judgment passed upon the desire or the need of the people involved. The wine has run out at Cana, and Jesus does not judge the people for having drunk too much. Otherwise it would not have run out. There is no judgment rendered regarding the desires of the people as they have gathered to Christ, even when the crowd numbers five thousand.

Their needs and their desires are presented in the most favorable light, and Jesus responds to them as if their needs and desires are genuine. Later, Jesus will work upon their desires and their needs in order to reveal what true desire and true need truly are. But at this moment, their wants and desires, their needs, are not judged. They are presented in the most favorable light.

Furthermore, in both chapters 2 and 6, and in keeping with what we have said about Passover, both passages are connected to specific Jewish experiences. John 2 presents the Jewish custom of purification. Thus, in the sixth verse of that chapter, there is specific mention of the six stone water pots set there for the purpose of Jewish purification. But in John 6, the context is much broader. Here, the entire testimony of the Jewish people’s wanderings in the wilderness is brought before us—the very foundations of Jewish history—and the miraculous provision by God when he gave them manna from heaven.

You may recall how John 6 progresses as Jesus makes a specific reference to the true bread that comes down from heaven to feed his people. Finally, and this is of great importance, both passages—John 2 and John 6—focus on Jesus, who alone is able to supply not only what is needed and desired, but more than what is needed and desired.

It is better than you think. It is greater than you have imagined. Truly, it is more than you can comprehend. These are the things which God has prepared for those who love him. Consider John 2 in this regard. Do you remember how it goes? Jesus, as we have already noted, restores joy to the feast by turning water into wine. But note that he does so in abundance—approximately 220 to 280 gallons of wine. The feast is already nearing its end, and he provides a superabundance of wine. Not merely what is needed, but more than what is needed. Is the reserve of Christ ever exhausted? Does the supply of heaven ever run dry? In John 6, Jesus provides enough food that everyone has as much as they want.

They are satisfied. This captures the essence of what is happening in the feeding of the 5,000. They are satisfied. Can you imagine it? They are satisfied. Reflect on this fully. They are content. Yet in verse 13 of that same chapter, it is clear that there is even more than they needed, for twelve basketfuls of food are gathered after the feast is concluded. This connection between John 2 and John 6 helps to establish the general pattern of meaning throughout the entire Gospel of John.

Jesus is the perfect host. There is none better. He is the perfect host who has come to this world to fulfill and even to replace Israel’s feasts, even if it be Passover. Israel’s feasts and customs and history, which were only temporary and preparatory, were meant so that in him the true desires of humanity and humanity’s real needs might be satisfied—beginning now in our present circumstances and leading to a new feast, new customs, and a new history for the people of God. They are supplied by him and through him with eternal and inexhaustible provision from heaven. Such provision is found nowhere else but with him and in him, our living and reigning Lord.

This brings us to the third reason the link between John 6 and John 21 is so important. The relationship of these two chapters provides a way by which we can understand the true meaning of John 6 itself. We have something with which we can compare it. We can examine John 6 in light of John 21 and be even more confident about what is being stated. John 6 leads us toward John 21. It draws us toward the conclusion of the gospel. That conclusion is clearly laid out from verse 15 onward in chapter 21. That is why we read that section.

Here we have Jesus’ powerful questioning of Peter, in which our risen Lord asks Peter three times whether Peter loves him. Peter, with growing distress, responds each time that he does love Christ. Jesus then tells Peter three times, “Feed my sheep.” But how will Peter feed Christ’s sheep? The remainder of Jesus’ conversation with Peter makes this clear.

It will not be by giving the sheep bread and fish. Let me tell you, it will not be by giving the sheep bread and wine. Consider this: it will not be by giving the sheep bread of any kind. Now hear me out. I am not dismissing the sacraments, but you see what Jesus is doing at the end of John’s Gospel. He is calling you beyond the sacrament. The sacrament is important; the bread here is important; but you are being called to go beyond it.

Therefore, it will not be by giving the sheep bread. Rather, it will be by giving the sheep what the bread represents. Indeed, we are moving along significant lines, are we not? We are affirming and emphasizing the representative nature of the sacrament. The elements are symbols; they point to something else; they point to a greater reality. The sacrament in itself cannot satisfy. Peter will be compelled to feed Christ’s sheep by providing them with what that bread in the feast represents. That bread represents the life of Christ given. The life of Christ given.

But now you see, as John’s concluding chapter unfolds, Jesus tells Peter that Peter will have to give his own life. He prophesies to him about the kind of life, the kind of death he will have to endure because of his relationship to Christ. These are the words in verses 18 and 19 of chapter 21. In other words, Peter will feed the sheep with Christ, but in a way that mirrors Christ’s own feeding of the sheep—by laying down his own life for the sheep.

You will notice, then, that we move from the meal to ministry. We move from the meal to service. We move from the bread to obedience. This is what the meal itself proclaims. This means that the meal cannot stand alone. It certainly has symbolic power, as it leads us to reflect on Christ’s sacrifice; but it also calls us to embrace such sacrifice in our own lives. This very truth lies at the heart of the meal in John 6.

That meal, the feeding of the five thousand, symbolizes Christ’s death, but it also sets before us the subsequent and derived service that we are to render in Christ’s name. This subsequent service is represented in the twelve basketfuls of food collected by the disciples after the meal is concluded.

One for each of the disciples, yes? They are ordained, and there is here something to be said about the ordained servant of God and his responsibility, and the unique service that he is to render in feeding Christ’s flock. But the twelve baskets also represent the people of God. How many tribes of Israel were there? There were twelve. It is not just the disciples; it is the entirety of the people of God that are in view.

So now, with those twelve baskets, there is represented to us not just the apostolate, not just the disciples, not just the ordained, but the whole of the people of God as the new Israel, the Church of Christ. Those who have been fed by those who are called to feed them now offer themselves in giving their lives one for another.

A new commandment I give unto you, that you love one another. The sacrament must go on to that. Otherwise, it is a silly meal, a foolish exercise, a mere ritual. We have here in the sacrament no bare meal for the self-centered satisfaction of our own desires. We have no bare meal that is an end in itself. Instead, we have a meal that preaches a message beyond itself, which actually and only reaches its goal not in that we are served, as we shall be shortly, but that we serve, even as Christ served and gave his life a ransom for men. Oh, that we would have the churches filled with ordained servants who are not just serving sacraments, but serving themselves as sacrifices for the sake of their people. And oh, that the churches were filled with sheep who, having been fed, are devoted to one another. Amen. As we come to the table this morning, we do so singing.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

April 2, 1995
The Servants Stand, the Guests Sit

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, February 5, 1995.

About this sermon

‘Sitting down’ in John 6:3 and 11 signals a formal meal, against Catholic communion practice, with Christ, pastor, and elders as servants who stand to honor their seated guests. The mountain of verse 3 and the grass of verse 10 add more meaning.

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Sermon transcript

This morning we are reading from the Gospel of John, chapter six. We are beginning with verse one. This is the Gospel of John, chapter six. Let us give our attention to the reading of God’s holy word. After these things, Jesus went over the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias. A great multitude followed him, because they had seen the miracles he performed on those who were sick. Jesus went up into a mountain, and there he sat with his disciples. The Passover, a feast of the Jews, was near. When Jesus looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where can we buy bread so that these people may eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do. Philip answered, “Two hundred denarii worth of bread is not enough for each of them to have a small portion.” One of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, said to him, “There is a young boy here who has five barley loaves and two small fish, but what are they among so many?” Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” There was much grass in the place, so the men sat down, about five thousand in number. Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to the disciples, and the disciples to those who were seated. He did the same with the fish, giving as much as they wanted. When they were full, he said to his disciples, “Gather up the fragments that remain, so that nothing is lost.” Therefore they gathered them together and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves, which remained after those who had eaten had been satisfied. Then the people, when they had seen the miracle Jesus had done, said, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.” Jesus, therefore, perceived that they would come and take him by force to make him king, and he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

I am not going to take time this morning to prove to you that the story of the feeding of the five thousand has much to say to us about the Lord’s Supper. We are going to assume that connection in this message this morning. If you want the proof of this connection, I encourage you to get hold of the tape of my January 30, 1994 message, a sermon I preached at the beginning of this series of Communion messages on John 6.

But assuming that connection, at the same time, it is obvious that there are dissimilarities between the Lord’s Supper and the feeding of the five thousand, and that these dissimilarities are important. Nevertheless, our interest remains with the similarities that exist between the accounts of the Lord’s Supper and the feeding of the multitude. So, as we consider the meal in John chapter 6, and here Jesus tells his disciples to have the multitudes recline, or sit down, verse 10, we are not surprised by the echo in this instruction from Jesus of what we hear later in the accounts of the Lord’s Supper. You may want to take note of the accounts of the Lord’s Supper in the various Gospels and how those accounts speak about the disciples who are present reclining in Jesus’ presence. The reclining or sitting down of the multitudes in John 6, then, finds connection to the reclining disciples in the upper room on that evening before Christ’s crucifixion.

In the common bond between the Last Supper and John 6, the fact is established, then, beyond controversy, that what we are dealing with in these accounts is a meal. It is a meal. And I might state in this connection, then, that we have in our observations at this point a confirmation of our Reformed and our Presbyterian understanding of the sacrament. The sacrament is a meal. It takes shape against the background of a supper. It is in a meal setting that the sacrament and the meaning of the sacrament take shape. The reclining of the people, then, in John 6, conveys to us a sitting down to a meal, or to a table.

The people do not gather in front of an altar. I hope you understand my point. The people do not stand in front of an altar to wonder at a sacrificial process or to gaze upon an elevated host. The people sit down as for a meal, and they do not kneel in worship of something or someone in front of them. Actions such as kneeling or gathering before an altar to wonder at a sacrificial process completely undo and obscure the true meaning of the sacramental action taking place in the meal.

But notice also, as you move from the tenth to the eleventh verse in John 6, that not only have the people been seated, but they remain seated and are served in their places. This means that the people do not come forward to receive the loaves and fish from Christ. Instead, the food is brought to them.

This is becoming clearer and clearer, is it not? You see, my dear Presbyterian and Reformed friends, there is good reason for you to conduct your communion practice as you do. Your practice is well grounded in the Bible. But now it is of greatest importance that you understand the genuine spiritual intention behind our communion practice.

In order that we might gain this deeper understanding, it is necessary for us momentarily to leave John’s Gospel and turn to the Gospel of Luke, particularly chapter twenty-two, and the account found there of Jesus’ Last Supper. You will recall, at the conclusion of the Supper, in Luke’s Gospel, that a controversy arises among the disciples about who is greatest. Verse 24 of Luke 22. Jesus enters their discussion and asks them, who is greater?

The one who reclines at table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who reclines at table? Then Jesus provides the capstone to his comments by saying, “But I am among you as one who serves,” verse 27. Jesus is making a comment here about the respective postures at that meal on the eve before his crucifixion. The honored guests at this meal are the ones who are seated.

The honored guests are the disciples. While Jesus, although the Lord, stands as their servant to wait upon them. Now, the same point is made in a slightly different way by Jesus in John’s account of our Lord’s last night before his death in John 13. In this account, Jesus provides a clear example of his genuine service to his disciples by dressing himself as a lowly, common household slave, bowing before his disciples, and washing their feet. Returning now to John 6, when Jesus has the multitudes seated, he is actually giving the multitudes the place of honor, and he stands in his place as their servant. Thus the people are exalted, and Jesus is humbled. Jesus moves among them as their servant, then supplying them with the loaves and the fish. This action speaks about his ultimate true service, in that he would give his life for them upon the cross.

Now, John emphasizes in his account in John chapter 6—something you would not know from the King James Version, because the King James Version has altered the text. John highlights the exclusivity of Jesus’ service in this context when, in verse 11, he states that it is Jesus himself who distributes the food. I know that, as it reads in the King James Version, the disciples are described as distributing the food after Jesus gives the loaves and fish to them. However, the King James translators made this change because they felt compelled to align this passage in John 6 with the accounts of the feeding of the five thousand found in the other Gospels. John’s record differs, and if you consult a New American Standard Bible or a New International Version, you will see the distinction. In these translations, it is clearly stated that Jesus himself is portrayed as distributing the food. As I said, if you compare this with the other Gospels, you will find that in their accounts of the feeding of the five thousand, it is the disciples, not Jesus, who distribute the food.

But John, according to the more accurate text, reports that Jesus himself distributed the food. Now we are asked to account for the difference between John’s account and the synoptic Gospels, and the apparent discrepancy. Why is there this difference? Because John, by the Holy Spirit, intends for us always to recognize Christ’s unique identity and the exclusive nature of his service on our behalf, as he gave his life for us on the cross. At the same time, John also intends for our understanding to be firmly grounded in the truth that Christ truly and genuinely serves us in this meal.

When the other gospel writers tell us that the disciples distribute the loaves and the fish, the point must be, in light of what John has to say, that the disciples are an extension of Christ, conformed to Him in their service to those who are truly served. By way of extension, then, when your pastor distributes the sacramental food, he does so by grace and by the call of the Lord related to Christ in his office, but his purpose must always be to communicate Christ, never himself.

By the same token, your pastor may give the elements to the elders to be distributed, just as Christ gave the loaves and fish to the disciples. Thus your elders stand by grace and by the call of the Lord related to the disciples in their office. But their purpose in distributing the elements must be to communicate Christ, never themselves. Nor can your pastor or your elders stand over you in a spirit of self-importance, much less in a spirit of belligerence or intimidation, as if they were higher and you, by definition and position, were lower. In fact, the actions that take place in the sacrament, the actions performed by your pastor and by the elders, are meant to communicate just the opposite. You are being made the higher, they are the lower. Just as a servant stands to wait on honored guests seated at a fine meal, so your minister and your elders stand to wait upon you, the honored guests seated for this extraordinary meal.

We are your servants. But it is clear, is it not, that our service must never be restricted to such ministry as we perform to you in this meal. Rather, the meal becomes the occasion in which we express the very center of our lives, which are, after the image of Jesus Christ, expended for you. No man, then, should take to himself these offices of minister and elder who has not sworn in his soul to lay down his life for the sheep, to be a servant for the sake of the sheep, just as Jesus laid down his life for us all, and is our servant still. But of course, neither the service, nor Christ’s service to the 5,000, nor his service to you through your pastor and elders, is meant to leave you seated comfortably, weighted upon hand and foot. The goal of Christ’s service to you is your like service to others.

Yes, you have been exalted. Even as you are seated, the heights to which you have been brought are suggested by what verse 10 in John 6 says further. For John has left us with the impression in his telling of the story that Jesus and the disciples are still upon the mountain when the multitudes reach them. Compare verse 3. We have said before that the mountain in the Gospels is the scene of glory. In this context, the mountain does not only answer and fulfill the scene of that great Old Testament mountain, Sinai, in which the Old Testament people were in fact brought together, constituted, and in effect created. But this mountain here in John 6 forecasts the heavenly Zion in which Christ will be seated with his disciples to whom he has promised twelve thrones. Thus, the seating of Christ and the disciples in verse 3 of this sixth chapter. The multitudes arrive and are cast in this mountain setting, so as to have glory conferred upon them, as they now are understood as a new people of God, who by their exaltation in Christ have come to participate in the blessings of Christ’s heavenly reign.

But you will notice here the mention of much grass, an abundance of grass in this tenth verse. With the mention of the abundance of grass, the much grass, the mountain itself is being transformed before your eyes. Ordinarily, the mountain is uninhabitable. But now it is described in terms of much grass, and transformed into a lush and verdant pasture where the flock of God may graze securely.

Indeed, here is a picture of the new people of God, who are the summing up of all that has been said about the people of God of old. Here are the new people of God who know that the Lord, He is God, that it is He who has made us and not we ourselves, that we are His people and the sheep of His pasture. See Psalm 100. When Jesus has the multitudes recline upon the grass, it is difficult not to see them as His sheep, whom He makes to lie down in green pastures. Psalm 23. The multitudes, therefore, are portrayed as the new people of God, exalted, who have not only come to the mountain, but have had made for them there an abundantly rich and safe habitation.

But note further that verse 10 goes on to speak about the 5,000 men. Specifically, the 5,000 men. Why mention the males specifically? Why mention the males and not the women and the children, as some of the other Gospels do, when they give us the story of the feeding of the five thousand?

It is precisely here that it becomes clear that although the multitudes are portrayed gloriously and exalted, and even served and ministered unto, they are also called upon to render service themselves. For I am persuaded that the specific mention of the males, five thousand males, is meant not to exclude the women and children per se, but to draw the whole multitude, man, woman, and child, under the heading of an army. In the Old Testament, the numbering of the men of the tribes was specifically for military purposes.

This means, then, that in this text we have the new people of God presented to us both as a flock of the Lord and as the army of the Lord of hosts. Interestingly, later, as the multitudes play out their role and even their distorted theology, they see themselves as an army and wish to take Jesus by force and make him their king, verse 15. But presently, in this context, verse 10, they are cast in the role of a different sort of army altogether. When it rises from its seat at the table of blessing, it moves out to carry on its campaign with the same spirit with which it has been served by Christ himself. Friends, you are seated at the Lord’s table, not only as the Lord’s flock, but as the Lord’s army. Your commander-in-chief moves among you as a lowly servant, and it is in his meekness and lowliness that you rise from this table to go out and to do battle, not with the weapons of this world, but with the arsenal of Christ—his love and his word.

Let us pray. Our Father, as much as we are confirmed in our understanding of the sacrament and the propriety of our practice, we are challenged so that we, yes, your flock and exalted people even served by you, might rise in service to you with the very spirit with which Christ is present among us to serve us. Our God, may this not be a useless ritual in which we engage, but a confirmation and a challenge to us that we might live fully as your new people, blessed by you, but also extending ourselves in service for the Savior who has loved us and whom we love. As we pray.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

February 5, 1995
Who Serves at the Table

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, November 6, 1994.

About this sermon

Scripture gives a clear view of the Lord’s Supper, and Christ himself examines those who officiate at his table. A line from Numbers 11:13 to John 6 reveals Jesus as Jehovah himself, feeding his people from a place of glory.

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Sermon transcript

This evening we are reading from John’s Gospel, chapter 6, beginning at verse 1. Let us give our attention to the reading of God’s holy words. After these things, Jesus went away to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also known as Tiberias. A great multitude was following him because they were seeing the signs he was performing on those who were sick. And Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat with his disciples. Now the Passover, the Feast of the Jews, was near.

Jesus therefore, lifting up his eyes and seeing that a great multitude was coming to him, said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread so that these may eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was intending to do. Philip answered him, “Two hundred denarii worth of bread is not sufficient for them, for each to receive a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a young boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are these for so many people?”

Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place, so the men sat down, in number about five thousand. Jesus therefore took the loaves, and having given thanks, he distributed to those who were seated, likewise also of the fish, as many as they wanted. And when they were filled, he said to his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.”

And so they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves, which were left over by those who had eaten. When therefore the people saw the sign which he had performed, they said, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.” Jesus therefore, perceiving that they were intending to come and take him by force to make him king, withdrew again to the mountain by himself alone.

Some here this evening, like myself I am sure, grew up in Reformed and Presbyterian churches. It is this tradition that has historically gone to great lengths to safeguard the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper from corruption. You may recall the story about John Calvin who stood between the table and some political leaders in the city of Geneva, declaring to them that they would partake of the supper only over his dead body. He took this stand because he was convinced that these men had greatly offended Jesus Christ through their sinful actions. The sacredness of this sacrament has further been guarded in the Reformed and Presbyterian tradition by a seasonal, as opposed to a weekly, celebration.

Contrary to even Calvin’s wishes, since he desired a weekly communion, you may know that the Reformed and Presbyterian tradition nearly uniformly adopted a quarterly celebration. This was done in the belief that the infrequency of the celebration would prevent abuse through over-familiarity and would break the pattern established by Roman Catholic practice. The Reformed and Presbyterian tradition has also taken with great seriousness the instruction from 1 Corinthians 11:28: “Let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of the bread and drink of the cup.” It was decided that ordinary church members could not be left entirely to themselves in this examination, and that special mechanisms must be put in place to ensure that self-examination. Therefore, in addition to the infrequent observance—four times a year—elaborate preparations were established to encourage this self-examination. Thus, it was the practice in many churches to hold week-long preparatory services or special services on the Sabbath or during the workweek prior to the celebration.

Maybe some of you are already aware of this practice. Perhaps it is part of your past experience. Perhaps you know that this practice continues in some places among Presbyterian and Reformed communities to this day. Of course, there have been other expressions of this Presbyterian and Reformed perspective.

For example, the old custom of giving tokens, often connected to whether or not a potential participant had fully taken part in the preparatory services leading up to the celebration of the Lord’s Supper. In any case, we can clearly see that the Presbyterian and Reformed tradition has placed great importance on the worthy reception of the Lord’s Supper. Although our specific practice may differ somewhat from that of our ancestors, we continue to pursue a thoughtful and reverent approach to this sacrament.

However, when we look at John 6, particularly verses 5 to 10, we notice that our Lord’s concern here is somewhat different from what receives the most attention in our circles. We will not go through our defense of this point—that this chapter, John 6, is deeply concerned with Christ’s true purpose in the Lord’s Supper. We have already presented our argument for this in a previous message.

But notice, as we walk into the account of the feeding of the 5,000 here, that Jesus examines His disciples, not the multitude. He examines those who will assist Him in serving the multitudes, not the multitudes themselves. Now, of course, this says nothing to diminish the necessity of communicants, like the multitude, examining themselves. In fact, the scrutiny of the multitudes comes afterward, after the feeding of the 5,000 in John chapter 6, as Jesus later subjects many of those who feasted on the loaves and fishes to a test of their own. But at this moment, in verses 5 through 10, the testing is with respect to the disciples, and concerns most directly the spiritual condition of those who assist in the sacrament or who officiate.

Two disciples are prominent in this trial, Philip and Andrew. Interestingly, these two appear together in John’s Gospel on several occasions. You may recall the opening of this Gospel, John 1, verses 40 and following. We have these two figures appearing there. But if you turn to the twelfth chapter of John, you will notice them appearing once again in verses 20 and following. This is especially noteworthy.

If we divide the Gospel at the end of chapter 12, with chapters 1 through 12 forming the first division and chapters 13 through 21 forming the second, then these two men, this duo, appear at the beginning, in John 1, in the middle, in John 6, and at the conclusion, in John 12, of the first division of the Gospel.

To say the very least, Philip and Andrew are very important. As John writes his gospel, especially as you consider the opening twelve chapters, these two become, in a sense, representative disciples through whom Jesus deals with and addresses the others. You will note that Philip has special importance. Not only does he have preeminence in this text, with Jesus singling him out and addressing him first, but the preeminence of Philip continues into chapter 12, where the Greeks seeking Jesus come to Philip first. This importance of Philip carries over, interestingly, into the second part of John’s Gospel, and into a passage that reveals Philip’s heart and opens up for us his significance as he is presented in this Gospel.

Now, the passage I have in mind in the second part of John’s Gospel is John chapter 14, verse 8, where Philip says to Jesus, “Show us the Father, and it is enough.” Think about that request in light of what we have learned from the other passages that speak about Philip in the first part of John’s Gospel.

I am asking you to call upon your knowledge of those passages, because I am not going to review them all for you this evening. Philip, in John 14, makes it plain that the man who, in chapter 1, invited his friend Nathanael to come and see the Messiah, and who in chapter 12 was approached by Greeks who wanted to come and see Jesus, is the same man who, in chapter 14, has come to Jesus but does not yet see.

Essentially, then, Philip is a representative disciple who does not see in Jesus all that he must see. And even beyond that, in keeping with the statement that Philip makes in the fourteenth chapter, there is a remark that indicates a sense of dissatisfaction in him. It seems that in his address to Jesus in the fourteenth chapter, Philip wants something more than what God has given him in Christ. Show us the Father, and it will be enough, he says. This clearly indicates that, according to Philip, there is a deficiency in what has now been communicated to him. Therefore, Jesus says to Philip, and hear the kindness of Jesus’ words: Have I been with you so long, and you do not know me, Philip? He who has seen me has seen the Father.

But it is this residual dissatisfaction, this spiritual blindness, that Jesus is addressing in Philip—and through him, the rest of the disciples, even here in John chapter 6. Specifically at this juncture is the nature of the test to which Jesus is now subjecting Philip in the sixth chapter. His purpose is to determine whether the disciples, through Philip, see in him all spiritual sufficiency, and whether they are truly satisfied with him. Indeed, Jesus asks Philip in the sixth chapter: Where are we to buy bread that these may eat?

In effect, Philip responds: I do not know. I do not know. But by this response, you see, Philip further indicates that he is still operating at a level far below the level at which Jesus is operating. Philip is operating on the level of this world, this creation, while Jesus is operating in an entirely different realm.

The exchange between Jesus and Philip points to a world known by Jesus, where no amount of money can purchase its blessings. Amazingly, no money is necessary to acquire its priceless treasures. Jesus’ inquiry of Philip arises from a completely different order of things, an entirely new order, a new world altogether. The arrival of this world was foreseen by Isaiah when he was compelled by the Holy Spirit to ask: Why do you spend money for what is not bread, and your wages for that which does not satisfy? You who have no money, come, buy and eat. Jesus is speaking from another world, a world in which he sees things that Philip does not. But what is it specifically that Philip is to see?

They are beside the sea. A large crowd is present. Jesus is there with the disciples. All the features of the landscape are visible. There are clouds overhead, and the sun is in the sky. The text tells us that there is much grass in the place. What specifically is Philip supposed to see? The answer to that question comes from several lines in the text.

First, note an interesting feature in the description of the setting. Verse 3 states that Jesus went up on the mountain. Hold that detail, please, and move to verse 15, which says that Jesus withdrew again to the mountain. Can you tell me, between verses 3 and 15, when Jesus came down from that mountain so that he could withdraw to it again?

We are not told. But why are we not told? John, as the instrument of the Holy Spirit, wishes to leave his readers with the impression that the feeding of the five thousand took place on the mountain. Why would John, the instrument of the Holy Spirit, want to leave his readers with that impression?

Because, you see, in biblical writing and literature, the mountain is the scene of glory, and the impact of the story is such that it bathes the event in the transcendent glory of God’s heavenly Zion. But not only is the reader to understand this, the text also shows that this understanding is essential. Even though Philip has descended at some point with Jesus to the plain for the purpose of feeding the multitudes, Philip is to see the scene overlaid with heavenly glory, and such perception is essential to a right understanding of and administration of the meal. When you partake, you are being taken to heaven. And those who officiate must know that and understand it. But further, what Philip is to see is suggested by an Old Testament parallel to John chapter 6.

I have in mind Numbers chapter 11, where we find the story of Israel’s great dissatisfaction in the wilderness, where the people craved meat. But you will recall in that story that the people’s discontentment bred discontentment in Moses also, who himself then questioned the sufficiency of God’s provision to him. Moses asks of God, and you can hear the whine and complaint in his voice, “Where am I to get meat to give to all this people?” verse 13 in Numbers 11. Jesus here in John 6 has raised a similar question in Philip’s mind. Both Moses and Philip do not think they can find adequate provision. Both then, Moses and Philip, are being tested, and both are found wanting. But in Philip’s case, the issue is not simply the adequacy of the provision found in God, it is the source of that provision. In Numbers 11, Moses is answered by Jehovah. In John 6, Philip is answered by Jesus. Do you get the point? In Numbers 11, Moses is answered by Jehovah. In John 6, Philip is answered by Jesus. What is the conclusion? Jesus is Jehovah.

In the meal, Philip, one who administers the meal for Jesus, or with him, must see that this supper is set in glory and that it is presided over by Jesus Christ, God himself, who is present to provide adequate and satisfying provision to those who come to him.

Irrespective of the attitude of the multitudes, those who administer this meal must have a firm grasp on the heavenly environment into which they lead the people of God, and on the true nature of Jesus Christ, who is none other than God himself, sufficient in himself to satisfy his people’s deepest longing. It is imperative that the leaders of Christ’s Church and those who would administer the sacrament see these things clearly, so that the congregations that they serve might see them also.

If indeed, Lord, we are to be lifted up to glory in the sacrament, may it be true of us by faith that we see beyond these things in this creation to things greater still. And Lord, if we are to acknowledge that you and your Son are sufficient for us, let us do so even as we perceive that this One who comes to us, Jesus Christ, is God himself. At the very least, O God, may we see these things clearly, and as we do, may other blessings come upon us. Bless your church with ministers especially who see these things rightly. We ask this in Jesus’ name.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

November 6, 1994
The Fish and the Lambs

This sermon is from the Rev. Charles G. Dennison sermon archive, part of the “Lord’s Supper” series, and was preached at Grace Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Sewickley, PA, during a worship service on Sunday, April 10, 1994.

About this sermon

Christ’s ‘leaving’ in John 6:1 connects to his appearance by the Sea of Tiberias after the resurrection in John 21, where he crosses the abyss and lives. The fish the disciples catch become the lambs Christ tells Peter to feed, one continuous picture drawn from John 6’s imagery.

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Sermon transcript

Turn with me this morning to John’s Gospel, chapter 21. This is John chapter 21. We are beginning at verse 1 of this chapter. Give your attention to the Word of God. After these things, Jesus showed himself again to the disciples at the Sea of Tiberias, and he appeared to them in this way. There were together Simon Peter, Thomas called Didymus, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two other of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.”

They went out and immediately entered a boat, and that night they caught nothing. But when morning had now come, Jesus stood on the shore, though the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Then Jesus said to them, “Children, do you have any food?” They answered him, “No.” And he said to them, “Cast the net on the right side of the boat, and you will find something.” They cast the net, and now they were not able to draw it in because of the great number of fish. Therefore, the disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord.” Now when Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he girt his outer garment around him, for he was naked, and he jumped into the sea.

The other disciples came in a small boat, for they were not far from the land, but about two hundred cubits, dragging the net with the fish. As soon as they reached the land, they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have now caught.” Simon Peter went up and drew the net to the land, full of large fish, a hundred and fifty-three, and although there were so many, the net was not torn.

Jesus said to them, “Come and eat.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew that it was the Lord. Jesus then came and took bread and gave it to them, and likewise the fish. This is now the third time that Jesus showed himself to his disciples after he had risen from the dead.

So when they had dined, Jesus said to Simon Peter, Simon son of Jonas, do you love me more than these? He said to him, Yes, Lord, you know that I love you. Jesus said to him, Feed my lambs. He said to him again the second time, Simon, son of Jonas, do you love me? And he said to him, Yes, Lord, you know that I love you. Jesus said to him, Feed my sheep. He said to him the third time, Simon, son of Jonas, Simon was grieved because Jesus said to him the third time, do you love me? And he said to him, Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you. Jesus said to him, Feed my sheep.

And then, turning to John chapter 6, beginning at verse 1: After these things, Jesus went over the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias, and a great multitude followed him because they saw the miracles or signs he did on those who were diseased.

Jesus went up into a mountain, and there he sat with his disciples during the Passover. A feast of the Jews was near. Jesus withdrew to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, that is, the Sea of Tiberias. This is how we see the events laid out in the first verse of John chapter 6. Jesus withdrew. His departure on this occasion is like a future departure. Jesus withdrew on this particular occasion just as he shall yet withdraw. His departure at that later time will be like the departure he now takes. Both of these departures follow confrontation with the Jews in Jerusalem, not only at the end of his life, but also here.

Notice John 5. After a confrontation with the Jews in Jerusalem, those Jews sought to kill him, because he challenged their understanding of the law and because he called God his own Father, thus making himself equal with God. You might note, in this regard, John 5 verse 18. So presently, as Jesus crosses the sea, his departure here proclaims to us what is coming. As Jesus crosses this body of water to the eastern shores of the Sea of Galilee, we are able to see his coming departure from this world to the distant regions of his Father’s glory.

But you will note in this text, as the sixth chapter opens, the sea bears not only the name Galilee but also Tiberias. Why Tiberias? It seems unusual, since John alone among the Gospel writers mentions Tiberius in connection with the Sea of Galilee. Why Tiberias? And who is Tiberias? He is the Roman Emperor.

He is the successor to Augustus. He, like Augustus, recognized himself in his own eyes as a god walking on the earth, and so was recognized by countless others around the world at that time. Honored by many, among those who honored Tiberius was Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great, who currently rules over the territory of Galilee. You might recall that Herod is the one responsible for the execution of John the Baptist.

But Herod Antipas has built a city on the west shore of the Sea of Galilee and has named that city after the current emperor. He has given that city the name Tiberias and has even gone so far as to make it the capital city of Galilee. That is interesting, is it not?

For all that we read in the gospel accounts, we never read specifically of this city in connection with a visit from or by Jesus. Yet, in the estimation of Herod and so many others at this time, this city of Tiberias is the most important city in the territory. Its importance continues. Forty years after the crucifixion of Christ, that city became the residence of the Jewish Sanhedrin, because Jerusalem had been destroyed, you see. And it also became the center for Jewish education, from which the reputation of the Jews in connection with the educational enterprise has gone forth to the ends of the earth.

With respect to the name itself, the name Tiberias, I judge that you hear in it something of what is communicated. It speaks to us, does it not, of power—power that is ruthless, pretentious, and corrupt. Brought in connection with the sea, one could then think that the sea itself is under the power of this one Tiberias. But we are not to think of Tiberias in his raw and ruthless power as standing alone.

He is, in fact, venerated by some, is he not? And certainly there are a number of Jews paying homage to him. So you see, it is not simply raw political power that is in view, but power that is in league with religious authority, which claims to have power over the issues of life and death—just as those are symbolized in the sea. Jesus departs and crosses the sea. He is crossing over the realm which the political and religious authority claim. He is crossing over to the other side. Just as he crosses that sea that bears the Emperor’s name and speaks to us of Jewish complicity. Even as Jesus crosses over that sea and continues to live, so he shall also cross over the abyss. The emperor, political power, the Sanhedrin, Jewish power, no less, claiming authority over the abyss, claiming to have the power within themselves and in their name to determine who shall and who shall not live.

Jesus shall cross over the abyss, and he shall live. Jesus is just as much alive in his body now, having crossed over the abyss, as he was on the day when he crossed over the Sea of Tiberias and docked his small boat on its eastern shore. There is another day, another day in which the Sea of Tiberias is specifically mentioned in the account of John, and we have read the passage this morning, have we not? John chapter 21, verse 1—the Sea of Tiberias is mentioned again for us.

And here it will be, in this setting, that Jesus will set before us, in figures, the manner and method of his sovereign power, which stands in opposition to, and in contrast with, the world’s religious and political rulers and all their claims. You see in the story the manner and method of Jesus’ rule, the character of his kingdom. His disciples have gone out into their small boat. They have fished all night. They have caught nothing. The risen Christ now stands on the shore. He commands them to cast down their nets. And to draw in a catch.

Just as the disciples obeyed Jesus’ command and took in a great catch, so also now the Church, in the power of Christ, will prove to be the means by which a great number of souls are rescued from death, from illegitimate political and religious power, and even from the fires of hell. But note this: as you look further into the twenty-first chapter of John, the great number of souls rescued is not simply like many fish pulled from the sea. As the story continues, the image changes. These souls are, in fact, also like many lambs to be cared for.

Jesus calls Peter’s attention to this specifically, and He does it repeatedly, three times. Thus, you see, with respect to the matter of shepherding, Jesus proves to be a shepherd to Peter as He shepherds Peter with respect to Peter’s former threefold denial by asking Peter three times, “Do you love me more than these?” In this, you see, Jesus is also setting the manner and method of His kingdom in contrast to the ways and methods of the world—those very ways and methods that Peter had thought appropriate for the realization and demonstration of the Messiah’s kingdom. We learn then from this One who is the persistent, ever-living, faithful Good Shepherd, the One who has laid down His life for His sheep, the One who is willing to give His life in order to tend His sheep.

It is specifically as shepherds, you see, that Jesus crosses the sea in John 6. He does not cross it in John 21, because He has already crossed it. But it is in order to reveal Jesus as the shepherd, as the shepherd, that He crosses the sea, and the great multitudes follow Him.

The multitudes mentioned to us in chapter 6, verse 2, appear in the text of John 6 as the sheep, as the flock of God. Jesus will make them lie down in green pastures. Do you note what is said later in John 6? Verse 10: “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in that place. Jesus will make these sheep lie down in green pastures, and there He will specifically relieve their need. There He will specifically minister to them in their truest and deepest need. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

Now the multitudes have come to Jesus, following the signs he has performed along the way. In verse 2 of the sixth chapter, the signs are specifically mentioned—those signs by which Jesus has revealed his gracious and loving care. The purpose of these signs, however, is to lead to the other side of the sea. As the great multitude follows the signs into the eastern territories on the east side of the Sea of Tiberias, so we, the people of God, follow the signs of the Son of God into another world—a transcendent, heavenly world. And if we are the true people of God, we will, in fact, be distinguished even from this great multitude, because they stumble over the sign in the end. But if we are the true people of God, we understand the limitations of the signs. They are, after all, signs. They point the way. They are not the destination. They point beyond themselves. They even point beyond the world in which they function. For you see, these signs are there to be seen.

They are for the eyes of our flesh. While we who are the true people of God know that we must live by faith and according to the eyes of the Spirit, through which we behold and by which we appropriate Christ’s continual shepherding care for his flock, which we are. But note now what our Savior does once he has crossed the sea.

In verse 3 of John 6, he ascends the mountain. Are we here merely to see a mountain of this creation? Is that all that is in the text? In the Old Testament, you might remember the mountain of God in relation to the issue of battle and the critical matter of war. In the Old Testament, it is the victorious warrior who ascends the heights to assume his throne, his rightful place.

Do you recall Psalm 24? Do you realize what is happening in that psalm? It is a psalm about the victorious warrior, who appears as one with clean hands and a pure heart, worthy then to ascend the hill of the world. But notice the transformation as you move to Psalm 47.

For here, the victorious warrior is not a human being, but God himself, who has become king of all the earth after triumphing over all his enemies. He is the one who ascends with a shout, with the sound of a trumpet. Having experienced the humility of battle, God himself is now brought into a coronation, becoming king in a way that was never before possible. There is Psalm 68, once more: it is the Lord himself, it is God, who is the victorious warrior, who ascends on high, who leads captivity captive, and from his position of glory, receives gifts from people, that he might distribute blessings to all his own. But note the relationship now to Jesus Christ. For he will fulfill both aspects that we have observed in these psalms. He is, after all, the human warrior with clean hands and a pure heart. He is also, as you see, God himself who ascends from a self-imposed humiliation to glory.

But Jesus, in John 6, verse 3, not only ascends the mountain, but he sits down. Jesus takes a seat. And in taking that seat, we are reminded of other Old Testament passages, are we not? The so-called Session Psalms. Consider Psalm 2: “Sit at my right hand.” Consider Psalm 110: “The Lord says to my Lord: ‘Sit at my right hand.’”

God’s Son takes the seat of honor and glory at the right hand of Him who has exalted Him. But you should also note Psalm 29, where we are told that the Lord sits as king at the flood—that is, when He has triumphed over all His enemies, He is exalted as king. And once more, is it not Jesus Christ who fulfills both aspects that we observe in these session psalms? He is, in fact, God’s Son who assumes His seat of honor in the resurrection from the dead, but He is also the Lord Himself who, in the crisis of salvation, reveals Himself to be the reigning sovereign by whom His people are redeemed. John 6, verse 3, tells us further that Jesus sits upon the mountain with His disciples, for these, too, are given positions of authority and rule. They are given thrones. But it is important now that you understand the nature of the rule that comes forth from the mountain.

Will it be like the rule of Tiberius? Will it be like the rule of the Jewish Sanhedrin? Will it be like the rule of the religious and political powers of this world? The rule of the oppressed, or the rule of those joined to Him who are seated with Him, is defined by Christ’s own shepherd posture.

Later in this very text, John 6, Jesus will reject the earthly crown. And even after His resurrection, even after He crosses over the abyss, He continues in this shepherd’s mode. This is the manner of His rule. But note also that the particular nature of this rule is as it is because this one who shepherds has Himself been a sheep. He is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

Thus, as you are looking at John 6, verse 3, let your eyes move to the fourth verse. Now, John will remind you that the Passover is near. But Jesus is not in Jerusalem, nor are those who follow him. They are here on the eastern shores of the Sea of Tiberias, away from the celebration taking place in Jerusalem, and now brought to these shores, this unfamiliar place, not in order that you might understand that a new Passover is being instituted and is being set before you here. A new Passover has come upon this great multitude, and in it the Passover lamb is none other than Jesus himself. He is the one to be slain.

By him and his blood, the angel of death passes over. The New Passover has brought with it the new exodus, the new and final exodus, out of bondage to the temporary, out of bondage to the provisional, out of bondage to the realm of tyranny from the forces of religious and political oppression, across the sea. This is also reminiscent of the Red Sea, through which the great multitude of God initially traveled. Having witnessed the signs performed by God’s servant, they too come into a mountain, there to receive God’s provisions for them, that they might be sustained.

We, by faith, have become part of the new Exodus. It carries us from the old world to the new. We, by faith, are now assembled beneath the authority of Jesus Christ and his apostles, who are in fact enthroned in glory. And we, by faith, in him, the one who ministers to us, are recipients of the unique and rich benefits of his eternal kingdom. We do more, then, as we come to the table, than feast with Jesus. This one who is our Passover is the one upon whom we feast. We partake of him, and in him we are satisfied.

Our Father, we know that the Passover and the Old Testament Exodus are not isolated from the work you perform in your Son. We realize, O God, that even as Jesus ministers to a great multitude on the eastern shores of the Sea of Tiberias, there is a remarkable fulfillment of the types and shadows that had preceded. From that day forward, this fulfillment draws more people to perceive the heart and soul of what transpires at Calvary—the death of Jesus, his resurrection, and his ascension to heaven—so that we may follow. Even as we are now here, in a wilderness, we are nourished by him, fed to the full, and satisfied. Lord, this nourishment comes by your word, and it also comes as your word is set before us in the sacrament. We are nourished not only with Jesus, but by Jesus, in whose name we pray. Amen.

The sermon text provided above is derived from the sermon audio recording making use of generative tools. It has not been manually edited. While transcription tools have a high degree of accuracy, the output may include generative textual, punctuation, and/or formatting errors.

April 10, 1994