Mark 8:4 - Homiletics

Whence shall man's soul be fed?

God's creatures are altogether and for ever dependent upon him. It is not now and then only that our Creator and Lord interposes upon our behalf, to supply our wants and to relieve our distresses. There are times when we specially recognize, and occasions when we specially feel, his care. But his bounty and watchfulness are, in fact, unceasing. "In him we live, and move, and have our being;" "He openeth his hand, and satisfieth the desires of every living thing." Bread for the body , and bread for the soul , alike are `from him. Our daily bread is his daily gift, and our daily remembrancer of him the Giver. In most cases the provision is so regular, by reason of fruitful seasons, by which he fills us with joy and gladness, that men take the gifts of his providence as a matter of course, and are (in instances) only now and then reminded of their dependence when he withholds his bounties. Our souls equally wait upon him, and to them he also giveth "their portion in due season." The sinless beings above doubtless receive from him abundant spiritual good, in an unceasing stream. If our human spirits are not constantly and of course enriched by his Spirit, it is not that his loving-kindness is little or intermittent; it is because our sin prevents us from receiving what is, to believing, lowly, and obedient natures, ever accessible. There is, accordingly, something altogether special in the supply provided for the deep and everlasting needs of human spirits. The unfallen angels, by reason of their purity, have constant fellowship with God, and doubtless are daily fed from his presence, and drink of the stream of his life. But we—poor, sinful children of men—need to be dealt with in a way Divine wisdom alone can devise, to suit the emergency of our position. The plenty of the Divine granary must be brought to our perishing souls by a heavenly interposition and grace. It is in Christ Jesus, the Son of the Eternal Father, that the bread of God becomes the bread of man. Needy, and therefore longing for spiritual food; sinful, and therefore unable to obtain and partake of such food, except in the way Infinite wisdom and grace may open up to us,—we are in a pitiable case until the beneficent Father sends unto us a heavenly and all-sufficient supply. No fellow-creature can give what our circumstances demand and our nature craves; no fellow-creature can satisfy the necessities of one suppliant, far less those of the unnumbered race of humanity. "From whence can a man satisfy these men with bread here in the wilderness?"

I. This language suggests THE CRY OF TH eE SPIRITUALLY HUNGRY FOR BREAD , Man cannot "live by bread alone." Unless he change his nature, or blunt its urgencies, and stifle its voice, it calls aloud for God.

"Far and wide, though all unknowing,

Pants for thee each mortal breast;

Human tears for thee are flowing,

Human hearts in thee would rest."

Oftentimes do men try to misinterpret this utterance, to persuade themselves that it is not God they want; that they are as the brutes, to which due fodder and litter and shelter suffice for satisfaction and enjoyment. When one looks upon the vain endeavours of misguided, self-deluded men, one cannot help crying aloud, in the memorable language of the Hebrew prophet, "Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which satisfieth not?" There is a deep-seated longing, a recurring appetite, which prompts all men in whom is any spiritual vitality at all to look for more than earth, than man, can give. We ask for truth, for without truth—and especially truth concerning God—is no satisfaction possible to the created soul. "Oh that I knew where I might find him!"—him, my Maker, Lord, and Judge; that I might know why he has made me, why he has stationed me here on earth, what is the purpose of his wisdom concerning me! Mock me not with dust and stones, but give me bread indeed, even the true knowledge of God! And as conscience assures each child of man that, if this God whom he fain would know take any interest in him, he cannot but remark his disobedience and his errors, the heart within calls aloud for the favor and acceptance of the great King. "How shall a man be just with God?" "Wherewithal shall I come into his presence? Will he "lift the light of his countenance" upon me, and be gracious to me? Must my sins be a barrier between me and my God; or can he, will he, overturn and cast them away, and admit me to his grace and fellowship and peace? Turning his regard inward upon himself, and perceiving his own helplessness in the struggle which is not to be avoided, the poor and feeble child of man asks for strength. How shall I gain strength for duty in times of weakness and temptation? How realize the intention of the Creator concerning me, that I shall enter into the conflict, sustain its toils, brave its dangers, and come forth victorious? And when the day of suffering and the night of sorrow come, can the human soul find comfort in the lessons of human philosophy, in the balm of human sympathy? Alas! these cannot suffice. Nor can aught truly soothe and effectually succor the weak and weary, the sad and lonely, the bereaved and dying, save the hand which fashioned the soul and made it susceptible to anguish—the heart that, by a Divine sympathy and consolation, heals the wounds that it permits. And when "heart and flesh fail," who but the Creator and Saviour can prove "the Strength of the heart, and its Portion for evermore" ? No human plummet can fathom the river all must cross, no human hand uphold the feeble, trembling feet amidst the dark, cold waters. Be sure of this: as long as man retains a nature higher than that of brutes that perish, so long as his heart is subject to grief, his life is surrounded by trouble, his nature prone to sin; so long he will ever and anon cry out for supernatural succor and comfort, and call upon his God. Spiritual hunger is no fancy of the sentimental, no artificial demand of the leisurely and cultivated. It is a fact—a fact which is not to be denied, and without considering which, our view of our human nature and our knowledge of ourselves must needs be incomplete and delusive. Bread for his soul man will ask for, and, unless he have it, he will hunger, pine, and perish!

II. This language suggests THE SILENCE OF THE WILDERNESS TO THIS APPEAL . Out beyond the Lake of Tiberius, away from towns and villages, in the solitudes of the green hillsides, how was the want of the multitude to be supplied? Blades of grass were not ears of corn, stones were not bread. "Here in the wilderness" was no answer to the demand of the hungering—none! The wilderness could only leave those to perish who trusted to its tender mercies. An emblem of the world's powerlessness to meet the case of our spiritually dependent and hungering race! The world is the scene of our trial and proving, the occasion of our manifold temptations. Of what use is it to look to it for sympathy, succor, strength, and salvation? It cannot satisfy you, search and prove it how you may. Is that rich and luscious fruit that hangs from yonder bough? Alas! it is the apple of the Dead Sea, dust and ashes between the teeth. Is that a lake of sweet, pellucid waters which gleams in the glowing sun in yonder hollow? Alas! it is the mirage of the desert, which mocks the thirsty travelers, offering them sand for water. So with the pretences of the world to satisfy the hungering soul. These pretences are vanity and delusion. Equally vain to help, though more honest, is the world, when its response is otherwise. It sometimes acknowledges its utter powerlessness: none to help, none to pity, none to deliver and to save I Whilst some who reject and despise the message of religion abandon themselves to selfish and worldly aims, and seek to still the voice of conscience and to repress the aspirations of the soul in the pursuits of pleasure, pelf, or power, there are others in whose breasts is no peace and no hope. They cry aloud in the wilderness; but no answer comes to them, save the mocking echoes from the hard, dead rock. No truth, no law, no grace, no hope, no heaven, no God! Such is their interpretation of the echoes of the desert. And we cannot wonder that, incredulous of every higher, better message, they abandon themselves to doubt, despondency, despair. From this cheerless and desolate prospect, let us turn to facts fitted to gladden every depressed and anxious heart.

III. The language suggests to us THE DIVINE PROVISION OF THE BREAD OF LIFE . When the disciples of Jesus asked him this question, "Whence shall one be able to satisfy these men with bread here in the wilderness?" they must have been thinking of their own inability. For they could not have forgotten how, not far from this very spot and not long since, their Master had fed five thousand men with five loaves and two fishes. If they had been there without him, they might have been as helpless as they were when the father of the lunatic boy brought his son into their presence, and entreated their compassion and aid. But the Lord Jesus was himself the answer to this inquiry. He had but to bless the bread, and distribute it by the hands of the disciples, and, for even so vast a multitude, there was "bread enough and to spare." Thousands were fed when Jesus was the Master of the feast. No miracles were more evidently and decisively than these of feeding the thousands, parables concerning Christ himself. St. John has recorded the discourse which our Saviour uttered in Capernaum, in which Jesus asserted his own mission and office and power. "My Father," said he, "giveth you the true Bread from heaven. For the Bread of God is he which cometh down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world.… I am the Bread of life: he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." In this language our Divine Lord evidently referred to that marvellous incident in the history of Israel when the wants of the people were supplied by daily provision of manna in the wilderness. More especially he brought before the minds of his hearers the great fact that the supply of human wants is due to the grace and interposition of God himself. Bread does not come to us from the wilderness, but it comes to us in the wilderness; and it is the Father above who sends it—none but he! Obviously, the figurative language in which Christ describes himself appeals to our best, purest, most sacred feelings. God is the Father, who will not leave his children without bread. He cares for his spiritual family, considers their wants, hears their cry, and in his wisdom and love secures for them all that he sees to be for their good. Our Lord Jesus Christ is himself the Divine provision for the needs of men. "He that eateth the flesh, and drinketh the blood of Christ, has life eternal." For it must be borne in mind that the heavenly Father who has given us his Son, has in him virtually given us all the resources of his boundless compassion and grace. "He who spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" Do our hearts cry aloud for spiritual truth? God gives us this in Christ, who is himself the Truth—the revelation of the Father's mind and will. The heart that finds "Immanuel—God with us," finds God himself—for Christ is "the brightness of the Father's glory"—reads the writing of God's own hand, hears the utterances of Truth Divine. "He that hath seen me," says Christ, "hath seen the Father." Is our heart restless until assured of the forgiveness and the favor of our God? Hungry for the smile of Heaven, does it turn heavenward a wistful gaze? God in Christ gives us this first great necessity of the sinful soul. Jesus came to call sinners to repentance, but he came at the same time to assure the penitent of pardon—the purchase of his precious blood. What bread is to the hungry, that is pardon to the contrite, humbled, suppliant transgressor. And this is the gift of Christ, who came with "power on earth to forgive sins." Do we feet an inner craving for a strength which we do not find within ourselves—for a power which shall uphold us in the labour and the conflict of this earthly life? Not only to know the will of God but to do it—this is the want of man's soul. Power to do this is bread to his hungering nature. Do you not, indeed, when you best know yourselves, feel that truly to live you must have strength to live to God? And who but God himself can impart this strength? It is given in Jesus. Eat of this bread, and labour shall be sweet and work welcome. His meat and drink was to do the will of him who sent him, and to finish his work. And in his people is "the mind of Christ." Does not the sorrowful i and tempted soul—the soul oppressed by the infirmities of the flesh and the ills of life—hunger for a consolation not to be found from the wilderness? Who of us has not felt this, in seasons of grief and anxiety? Surely, God knows the heart which he has fashioned; he reads its laments, he witnesses its struggles, he comprehends its fears. It was to allay our anxiety, to assuage our griefs, that Jesus dwelt on earth, wept our tears, tasted the bitterness of our death; that he might be a "High Priest touched with the feeling of our infirmities." As long as "man is born to sorrow," so long shall the "Man of sorrows, acquainted with grief," be the dearest Friend the heart can know. Jesus is a "brother born for adversity."

"But what to those who find? Ah! This

Nor tongue nor pen can show;

The love of Jesus, what it is

None but his loved ones know,"

IV. This language suggests THE SATISFACTION FOUND BY THOSE WHO PARTAKE OF THIS SPIRITUAL FOOD . We read in the Gospel that, when the great Lord of nature and of men miraculously supplied the wants of the hungering crowds," they did all eat, and were filled." In this they prefigured all who, in every land and age, should feed by faith upon the Son of God. Of him it may truly be said, "He filleth the hungry soul with goodness." Three remarks may be made upon the power of the Lord Jesus to appease the spiritual hunger and to supply the spiritual wants of men. He is sufficient for each, sufficient for all, sufficient for evermore. Each soul, however drawn or driven to Christ—driven by the desperation of want, or drawn by the excellence and abundance of the Divine supply—finds in him all that he himself has promised. To believe, to trust, to love, to follow Christ,—this is to appropriate him, to prove and learn his Divine sufficiency. "He that cometh to me," says Jesus," shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst." The same faith which first reveals Christ to the soul, and stays its hunger, is the means of attaching the soul to Christ and the means by which the soul finds in him all the fullness of God. For he of God is made unto his people "wisdom and righteousness, sanctification and redemption." The bounty of the Lord Jesus is unrestricted. As the vast multitude of his auditors were fed by his beneficence—as men, women, and children all ate and had enough, so that basketsful of fragments were taken up—so throughout this wide world its teeming and varied populations are all destined to find in him the Saviour of mankind. "I," said he, "if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." Untold myriads have feasted at the table of Christ, and none have risen hungry and dissatisfied. Still have the ministers of his grace the privilege of announcing to the starving children of men, "' Yet there is room.' Come ye in, that the guests may be many and the tables filled. 'Eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.'" Still further to enhance the conception of the preciousness of the great salvation, let it be remembered that it is an unfailing, an everlasting, an imperishable satisfaction which is to be found in Jesus Christ. He that eats of earthly bread and drinks of earthly streams hungers and thirsts again; but he who, by Divine mercy, feeds on heavenly food and drinks of the living water hungers and thirsts no more. For him is provided a perpetual feast, an immortal satisfaction and content. Generation succeeds generation, and age follows age. The experience of humanity is prolonged from century to century. Opportunity is given to every system, to every creed, to every philosophy, to deal with the deep and spiritual necessities of mankind. As one attempt of human wisdom succeeds another, and as each fails in its turn, we hear in our soul within us the cry arise, suggested by human effort and by human powerlessness, "From whence can a man satisfy these men with bread here in the wilderness?" There is no answer. None has been given; none can be given. Happy are we who hear a voice, Divine alike in sweetness and authority, rising above the plaint of the hungry, or breaking the silence of the baffled and the helpless, and uttering forth the welcome declaration of pity and of love, "I am the Bread of life" ! And happier still if, convinced of the sincerity and the power of this Divine and compassionate Benefactor, prompted by our human need, and guided by the Spirit of God, we respond, in faith and gratitude and poise, "Lord, evermore give us this Bread'!