Advent Day 17: Bread of Life | Living Bread

Meal at Emmaus, Andrei Mironov, 2024. Oil on canvas, 70 x 70 cm. Used with permission from the artist.

“Bread of Heaven” from the album Golden Gospel Classics. Performed by Shirley Ann Caesar-Williams, composed by William Williams Pantycelyn and John Hughes.

Poetry:

“Shortnin’ Bread”
by Dick Allen

The lyrics were appalling.Three little children lying in bed,
two were sick an’ the other most dead
and how the song, written by James Whitcomb Riley
in racist dialect, became a minstrel song.
Yet the bread itself was wonderful: cornmeal,
flour, hot water, eggs, baking powder, milk,
a good deal of shortening. My mother used to sing
Momma’s little baby loves shortnin’, shortnin’
Momma’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread
all morning while she whipped up some,
wearing her white apron with the red stitching,
and I never tired of hearing about how
when those children, sick in bed
heard the talk about shortnin’ bread
they popped up well to dance and sing
for I believed, then, like other children from our small church village,
in miraculous cures. I believed in the luck brought by four-leaf clovers,
that men actually beat their swords into ploughshares,
and in the resurrection and the life.
Didn’t seasons change, weren’t prayers always answered?
One day it was snowing like the devil, the next,
robins came to our upstairs bedroom windows,
sheep gamboled, the lilac bush blossomed.
Behind us, trailing back through our lives like drunkards’ footsteps
there are thousands upon thousands of small escapes
from horrible outcomes. Be thankful for each reprieve
with which you’ve been blessed.
My brother who’d stepped on glass and got himself infected
didn’t die in his trundle bed beneath the stairs.
The nurse who’d stayed all night awake by his bedside
had left quickly in the morning, smiling, reassuring us,
while downstairs my mother had started singing,
hat ain’t all she’s gonna do
the house on Janes Avenue filling with the smells
of coffee and lilacs and delicious shortnin’ bread.

Sustenance

In our Scripture today, Jesus just fed five thousand men (and their families) by multiplying five little barley loaves and two small fish. Amazed, the crowd wanted more because they sensed that there was something extraordinary about this man. Then he said something audacious: I am the bread of life. He explained that Moses provided manna that would temporarily provide sustenance, but he was the true, living bread from heaven.

Notice the crowd’s response: Lord, give us this bread always. They’re thinking of physical provision to satisfy their hunger. Jesus explains that it is not only what he gives, but who he is that is deep, spiritual sustenance. He’s not just a rabbi pointing to bread, but the Bread himself. God is making himself consumable, absorbable, tangible – the very nourishment that satisfies the deepest parts of who we are and what we ache for.

What does it mean for us to never hunger? Jesus promises complete satisfaction, not temporary relief that rots overnight like manna. He explains: If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This isn’t simply about physical immortality or even that we will join him in heaven one day, but about how our quality of life changes the moment we begin to realize that he is our eternal, everyday sustenance. We live forever because we consume the Eternal, and his eternal life infuses our everyday being.

In Mironov Andrey’s Meal at Emmaus, we see this audacious claim unveiled. The oil painting captures the sacred instant of recognition, when ordinary bread becomes extraordinary revelation. The disciples’ eyes were not opened through spectacle, but through the intimate act of sharing bread (Luke 24:31). Sometimes we only want to see Jesus show up in spectacular ways, but he usually comes to us in a basic meal. How often do we miss him in the simple sustenance he provides?

Dick Allen’s Shortnin’ Bread reminds us of bread’s power to heal and comfort. His mother’s ritual of singing while baking and filling their home with delicious aromas transforms their ordinary moments into an extraordinary environment. Allen reflects on thousands upon thousands of small escapes from horrible outcomes alongside his brother’s healing, the nurse’s gentle care, and the smells of coffee and lilacs and delicious shortnin’ bread. These images remind us that God sustains us through dramatic interventions, but also in the quiet, daily provisions.

Take a few moments today to reflect on our Scripture, artwork, and poem. Do this while listening to Pastor Shirley Caesar’s Bread of Heaven and prayerfully consider how you might see Jesus’ extraordinary sustenance throughout what is likely to be an ordinary day. In every meal, in every moment of nourishment, in every small escape from harm, in every provision, may we taste and see that he is good.

Prayer:
Lord, Give us this day our daily bread. And remind us that, in all the big and small ways that we might miss, you are our Living Bread. We confess that there are so many things we take for granted, and so many ways we don’t see how you sustain us. Give us eyes to see how your goodness has always been running after us. We are grateful for every way you bring the eternal into our everyday moments.
Amen.

Dr. Mike Ahn,Ph.D., M.Div.
Dean of Spiritual Development
Biola University