“Two Imperatives and a Miracle”
“Two Imperatives and a Miracle”
Matthew 14:13-21
Matthew 14:13-21
In the name of the Living God and the Risen Christ.
His hometown rejects him, the crowds press in on him, his friend and cousin John the prophet is executed unjustly by a wicked tyrant. It’s no wonder then that Jesus withdraws by boat to a solitary place for respite and reflection. It doesn’t last long, however, as the crowd gets word and hurries and scurries by land to intercept him further along the north shore of the Sea of Galilee.
Jesus’ compassion stirs him to keep teaching and healing—no matter how late the hour or how weary his body or how anxious his mind. The same compassion is at work here this morning, as the same Jesus—true God and true man—now risen and ascended to the Father—teaches us through his word and abundantly feeds us with his very body and blood.
The most famous miracle of the feeding of the 5,000+ can’t be understood without noting the two imperatives, or commands, in the account. The first is the disciples’ order to the Lord, and the second is the Lord’s counter-order to the disciples.
1.) The disciples order Jesus, “send the crowds away.” Now, before we jump all over them, let’s keep a few things in mind. It’s a completely reasonable order—even if it feels a bit presumptuous telling the son of God how to run his ministry. There are thousands and thousands of people. It’s been a really long day. Everyone’s hungry and tired. There’s no chance the disciples have the provisions to take care of them all. The money necessary would bankrupt the Lord’s work. Surely, this is the most reasonable solution: send them away into the neighboring hamlets to fend for themselves—any project manager would agree.
2.) But then there’s the Lord’s counter-imperative to them: “You give them something to eat.”
“Wait…what? Who, us? Um, we did a quick inventory and we’re up to a whopping five loaves and two fish!”
“Bring them to me,” Jesus says. And after he blesses the loaves and the fish, the disciples become part of the famous miracle themselves—distributing the abundant compassion of Christ to all.
Two commands: “send them away” and “You give them something to eat.” One is concrete, the other crazy; one of the head, the other of the heart; one of limits and spread sheets and finite resources, the other a vision of eternity; one human, the other divine.
We’re all duly impressed with the miracle of the feeding of the 5,000+. It’s been depicted in numerous poems, in religious art, in film, and various musical settings for centuries. Maybe it’s the sheer numbers that impress us. Maybe it’s because we usually hear it on a Sunday morning before lunch, and so loaves and fishes sound pretty good by 10:30 or 11:00. Maybe it’s because we’ve all been to a church luncheon or potluck and worried that there wouldn’t be enough, so we secretly thought about where we would go to buy some emergency fried chicken somewhere close by.
But I’m here to tell you that that the real miracle is not found so much in the food, it’s in the faith. They said, “send them away.” Jesus said, “You give them something to eat.” And then, instead of laughing at him, or abandoning him, or telling him to shove off, the disciples believed him and obeyed. They took him at his word, heeded his command, gave all that they had, and became part of a miracle that Christ would do through them. The real miracle is not so much about the food, it’s about the faith. They took him at his word and proceeded in faith. They believed not just with their hearts, but with their legs and their hands, somehow knowing that the power and compassion of this Jesus standing with them was enough for the challenge before them.
You’ve probably had a moment like that in your life. Maybe you can picture yourself standing next to the disciples that day along the sea of Galilee: an insurmountable task; a burden too heavy to carry; a fear too great to face; a sin too engrained to be free from; a darkness too deep to walk through.
And if you’re like me, you’ve also probably wanted to give the Lord your own set of orders, or your own timetable, or your own spread sheet or flow chart on how life was supposed to go. Send them away, Lord. Take it away, Lord. Make it stop, Lord. Why now? I’ve had enough. I just can’t anymore. It’s too much. I’m done.
And if that has happened, and when it does happen, I want you to remember this account from Matthew 14. He gave them his word, they took him at his word, and they got busy with the miracle. They didn’t know from where the resources would come, or what the outcome would be, but they knew who was giving the orders, and who would walk with them, and that was enough for them.
The Jesus who fed 5,000+ that day will later that night walk on water. Then he’ll heal a Canaanite woman’s daughter and a young boy with a demon. He’ll also be betrayed into the hands of pagan soldiers, be whipped, crucified, and buried for dead. But the power and compassion of God at work in Christ, was more than even sin, death and hell could handle. Three days later he rose victoriously. That grave was empty. No body ever found. Now, he’s ascended onto the right hand of the father and all things are placed under his feet. All things, including you and me, our greatest fears and our greatest tasks.
So when he tells you “go,” you go. When he says “give,” you give. When he says “serve,” you serve. When he says “trust me,” you do. When he says, “I’m going to work a miracle and it’s going to happen through you,” you take him at his word—even if you don’t know how or when or even why.
There is a great feast coming. Both here in a few moments, in the Lord’ Supper—Christ’s true body and blood for our forgiveness, healing, and strength for the journey; and then finally in eternity, a great feast of victory where we celebrate face to face. Until that final feast, we live in faith: hearing him, obeying him, trusting him, and working the miracles he’s given us.
Come soon Lord Jesus. Amen.
And, so we continue to pray, “Come soon, Lord Jesus.” Amen.