Now he wants to eat. Earlier, when the bread was there, right there in his hands, all he did was rip it in two and disappear. Taking them back to a night of foreboding and torchlit trial. A night when he fed them with bread loaded with promise. A future feast paid for with his life. But now he‘s back, and stood here asking for fish. Taking them back to another bread and fish moment. The world’s biggest free picnic. Everyone invited. Food for all. Feeding a small town from a lunch bag barely big enough for a seven-year-old. Food for those hungry for change. And another time too. Another fishy tale and a stressed disciple. How are we going to pay our way? The taxman’s calling. Catch a fish, have a good old root around in its mouth. See if there’s any silver in there. Bam! Profound provision. A debt paid. If your child asks for a fish would you give him a scorpion? he had said. And now he’s back to give them the best food in the world, cooking breakfast on the shore, the smell of sizzling fish as seven bemused friends drag a bulging torn net from a boat. A forever meal laced with forgiveness and fresh starts. The kind of food that lasts forever. Feeding the soul and mind as well as the flesh. So here he is now, smiling as he slips a sliver of leftover into his mouth. Proving a point. Do ghosts eat real fish? Wouldn’t it just drop through and leave a mess on the carpet? He smiles again and there is the very real sound of him swallowing. See? No ghost. No myth. A hungry, resurrected rescuer. One with an appetite, here to redeem the universe and commission his friends to join him. Knock and the door will be opened he had once said. Now he’s the one knocking, let me into every bit of your life, he says. The tidy rooms and the chaotic ones. The gleaming and the dark and dusty. And we can eat together… bread, fish, peace, strength, inspiration, compassion, respect… and everything else besides. Soul food.
Luke 24 v 28-43, John 6, John 21, Matthew 17 v 24-27, Luke 11 v 11-13, Revelation 3 v 21