By Pastor Tracey Leslie
​Scripture:  Psalm 23

​As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, I’m currently in the midst of a sermon series focused on how the inherent nature of God is revealed in Jesus.  In the gospel of John, Jesus makes “I am” statements about himself; statements like “I am the bread of life” or “I am the light of the world.”  And all of those statements Jesus makes are true of God in the Old Testament.  The very statement “I am” goes all the way back to God’s self-revelation to Moses at the burning bush when Moses is called by God to lead the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt and into the promised land of Canaan.  Moses asks for God’s name and God says, “I am; I am who I am.”  God is the great “I am” and Jesus proclaims his oneness, his unity, with God the heavenly Father each time he says, “I am…”  So today, in our 9:15 “I am” study group we looked at Jesus’ statement “I am the good shepherd.”  And now here in worship we consider the affirmation of Psalm 23 that, “The Lord is my shepherd.”
 
This Psalm is undoubtedly the best known Old Testament scripture passage.  Nearly everyone knows it and it’s a comfort to us in difficult times.  But it’s a shame that this psalm is rarely thought of beyond the familiar context of funerals because its theme is really one of God’s care for us throughout our lives, or – as the psalmist puts it – “all the days of my life.” 

When I preached two weeks ago on Jesus’ saying “I am the bread of life,” I spoke of how God faithfully meets our needs; of the fact that “bread” is a comprehensive symbol for all the things we need to live.  Likewise, within this psalm, the primary needs of God’s creatures – be they sheep or people – are affirmed as being met by the shepherd; needs like food that is symbolized by “green pastures,” water, safe shelter, guidance for our lives and protection from danger.  Sheep are vulnerable animals; but we human creatures are often more vulnerable than we like to admit or even think about.
 
Yet God’s care for us is reliable, dependable because God cannot help but be who God is; a good shepherd.  One of the most important lines in this psalm is “he leadeth me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake”; for his name’s sake.  God preserves and protects our lives with generous, life-sustaining actions because that kind of behavior is fundamental to who God is.  We’ve all seen advertisements where the owner of a company brags about putting his or her name on the product, right?  They’re putting their name on the line.  Well, when God names us as his sheep, his flock, then the way in which God responds to us and engages with us puts God’s name on the line.  God cannot be anything other than who God is:  good, generous, gracious.

But friends, if we belong to God’s flock, then we are called to live in ways that demonstrate our confidence in God’s ability to provide for us and protect us.  This psalm is more than comforting words during times of grief; it must become our affirmation of faith in all times; an affirmation that is meaningless and hollow if we don’t live it out.  Far too often, we profess reliance on God with our lips while we hedge our bets, looking to the things of this world to keep us safe and secure.  As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, there’s nothing wrong with financial planning; but let’s not kid ourselves: the savviest financial planning in the world can’t guarantee our well-being or security.  Just remember 2008 or even this past Friday after the Brexit vote.  So many people live their lives being fearful stingy with others – and even themselves – out of the rationale that, by saving up, it will guarantee their security in the future.  But it doesn’t; it can’t.
 
You know, there is another – very important – dimension to this psalm that we miss because of the limited way in which we have enculturated it, that funeral or pastoral context. 

You see, in Old Testament times, the metaphor of “shepherding” was frequently applied to political leaders, to kings.  As easily as we think “Democrats” when we see the donkey and “Republicans” when we see the elephant, an ancient eastern person would have known that “shepherd” was a symbol for kings.  David, Israel’s greatest king was a shepherd.   

Earthly kings were referred to as “shepherds” and charged with protecting and providing for their subjects in the same way that a shepherd protects and provides for his sheep.  Israel’s kings were to serve as God’s representatives on earth and so their rule was to reflect the reign of God.  Israel was a theocracy.  The kings were referred to as God’s sons.  Psalm 2 is a Coronation Psalm, saying of the king: “You are my son; today I have begotten you.”[i] 
 
Yet most of Israel’s kings fall dreadfully short of God’s standards.  They don’t treat the people like God treats us.  Some were corrupt and self-serving.  They didn’t encourage the people to trust in God because they lacked that trust themselves.  They were fearful; they looked out for number 1.  They tried to hedge their bets by encouraging the people to worship other gods – the more the better, cover your bases.  Most of the kings of Israel are a long way from being good shepherds.  They fail to trust in God and they put their own success, security and ease above the needs of their people.  But that’s something that God will not tolerate.   
 
In fact, through the prophet Ezekiel, God condemns the “shepherds” or kings who have been leading Israel.  It is their sinful behavior that will bring about the nation’s destruction and downfall.  In chapter 34 of Ezekiel, God says to the prophet:
(Ezek 34:2-5 NRSV)  Mortal, prophesy against the shepherds of Israel: prophesy, and say to them … Ah, you shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves! Should not shepherds feed the sheep? {3} You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the fatlings; but you do not feed the sheep. {4} You have not strengthened the weak, you have not healed the sick, you have not bound up the injured, you have not brought back the strayed, you have not sought the lost, but with force and harshness you have ruled them.
 
Because Israel’s leaders have abused their sacred trust, God promises to put an end to these greedy, self-serving kings.  And God, himself, will take over as King, or shepherd, of his people. 
 
The prophet continues:
(Ezek 34:10-16 NRSV)  Thus says the Lord GOD, I  will demand my sheep at their hands, … I will feed them with good pasture, … I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down, says the Lord GOD. {16} I will seek the lost, and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the weak...


And that sounds – does it not – a bit like a combining of the 23rd Psalm and Jesus’ teaching to his disciples when he says “I am the Good Shepherd.”  In fact, those words are descriptive of the ministry of Jesus.  Jesus heals the sick; he befriends those that society pushes to the margins.  He feeds the hungry multitude with just five loaves of bread and two fish.  Jesus seeks the least, the last and the lost and draws them into the fold.
 
Jesus, like God the heavenly Father, is a shepherd whose authority and power are used to supply our needs; to secure our well-being.  As the psalmist affirms because God is his shepherd, he has no want or need. 
 
Friends, when we recite aloud the 23rd psalm it is more than a comforting piece of poetry; it is a profession of our faith.  And it’s even more than a profession of faith; it is also a political statement; a revolutionary statement.  It proclaims that only God – not any worldly institution or authority – can truly function as our shepherd.  It rejects the way that “security” is brokered and managed and manipulated in the world.
 
This psalm, this profession of faith, this political manifesto, affirms that we will not live enslaved by fear and anxiety because our Good Shepherd provides reliable security.  Our trust in the Good Shepherd liberates us to share generously with others because not only is God our shepherd, he is also a great banquet host whose table is never empty (As the psalmist says, “thou preparest a table before me… my cup overflows”).  If God is our shepherd king, then we can trust that, within his kingdom, there is plenty and we need not grasp and clutch greedily to secure ourselves.  If God is our shepherd king, we should not play both ends against the middle or hedge our beats by putting our trust in someone or something else, be it money, worldly success or reputation, because that is nothing short of heresy and treason against our shepherd and king.  If God is our shepherd king, we gladly submit our lives to his reign and his authority. 
 
Brothers and sisters, the 23rd psalm is more than a hymn of comfort.  It is our declaration of faith and a revolutionary statement of how we will live in the world and with the world.   
 
Friends, it is important for us to acknowledge the original context and meaning of this Psalm because it has implications for how we live in the world today.  It’s important for us to remember the nature of godly leadership and what it looks like because we now live in a culture, in a world, in which leadership looks more and more like those Old Testament kings.  We are living in a culture of fear that perceives force and violence, manipulation and fear-mongering as effective and acceptable leadership traits.  But that is in contradiction of the message of this psalm.  If we believe this book, then that’s not a lifestyle option for us.
 
You know, sheep were vulnerable animals and good shepherds were responsive to their vulnerability.  Good shepherds led with gentleness.  Jesus spoke often of gentleness.  Using another agrarian image, Jesus said, (Matthew 11:29) “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”  Jesus spoke the beatitude, “Blessed are the gentle for they shall inherit the earth.”  In John’s gospel, when Jesus proclaims himself the Good Shepherd, he fulfills God’s hopes for those Old Testament kings.  He willingly sacrifices himself for the good of his flock, saying “I lay down my life for the sheep.”  And finally, in a society where we’ve begun to circle the wagons and take a defensive posture toward those who are not like us… Well, Jesus says, “I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.  I must bring them also…”
 
Friends: another powerful phrase in this psalm gets lost in translation.  We say, “surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life”; but that is a poor translation because the word used there for “follow” is more accurately translated as “pursue”: “surely goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life.”  Friends: that is the character of our Good Shepherd.  In our world, people are usually pursued with malevolent intent: armies pursue other armies to do battle against them; the FBI pursues dangerous fugitives to capture and confine them.  But God pursues us with goodness and mercy.  Can you imagine what it might be like to live in a world where we pursued one another with goodness and mercy? 
 
Folks, I’m not naïve; I know we live in a sinful world and I know there are instances and circumstances when force and violence must be used.  But we are sadly becoming a world in which force, aggression, manipulation and violence are not our last resort; they are quickly becoming our first response. 
 
Now, we cannot single-handedly fix the world’s problems.  But, as our own Peggy Reen often reminds us, we can decide if we will be part of the solution or part of the problem.  Far more often than we recognize – I admit, more often than I am conscious of – we engage in discussions with people that promote fear and we just roll with the tide of the conversation.  But rhetoric is powerful; it ultimately shapes behavior and we can choose to change our rhetoric and change behavior.  We can choose to become people whose speech and actions promotes gentleness, compassion and understanding. 
 
And while we don’t always think of ourselves as leaders, most of us have some context in which we exercise authority.  If we’re parents, we exercise authority with our children.  If we supervise someone at work, we are in leadership.  If we chair a committee, that is a position of authority.  And within the contexts of those relationships, we get to decide whether our leadership will reflect the ways of the world that demand our way and manipulate or the leadership of our Shepherd that is humble and gentle.
 
So what will it be?  Will we seek to protect the vulnerable?  Will we sacrifice for the good of others?  Will we reach out and extend a welcome to outsiders?  Will we encourage trust or will we promote fear?
 
I hope before you leave here this morning… maybe during the offertory, that you’ll think about some of the situations, circumstances, and relationships you find yourself in right now and I hope you can think of at least one where you recognize that fear or suspicion or intimidation or even aggression is exercising an influence.  And I hope you’ll say a prayer and determine, with the leading of God’s Spirit, a change you can make – something different you can do or say – to change the situation: to transform fear into compassion; to change suspicion into curiosity; to overcome intimidation and aggression with gentleness and humility… because when we do that we, ultimately, show love for our Shepherd.

[i] Psalm 2:7. NRSV.

Scriptures:  Exodus 13:17-22; John 12:35-36
By Pastor Tracey Leslie

Wednesday evening I needed to drop my car off at the Honda garage.  Britt was going to follow me in his van to give me a ride home from the garage.  I started driving down 52.  And then, I stopped dead in my tracks.  The lane was abruptly closed.  I pulled into a parking lot to turn around.  Britt wound down his window and said, “Do you know where you’re going?”  Well, obviously not.  This summer, it’s anyone’s guess, isn’t it?  Not even Google can keep up with the ever-changing terrain that is Lafayette, IN.  And clearly, my being in the lead did not turn out to be a very wise choice.
 
Perhaps you’ve seen the commercial for Athene Holding, an annuity investment company.  As the commercial begins, we have a binocular view of a dry, barren terrain with these things kind of sticking out of the sand.  As the camera zooms in we can see: these are men in business suits, kneeling on all fours with their heads stuck down up to their necks in the sand.  Our narrator speaks: “There are those who become complacent when the market is in status quo mode.”  Heads begin to pop out of the sand and look around nervously like meerkats … “And those who panic when it isn’t.”  Now the men are racing frantically across the sand, jostling one another for position, pushing to get ahead.  Once again the voice of the announcer: “But if you’re like us, you know that focus, commitment and higher expectations will get you to places you’ve only dreamt of.”  On the word “focus,” we are viewing through the binoculars once again.  Taking in the broader landscape, we see these men are running pell-mell toward a steep cliff; a drop off into a giant abyss.  Now, we see the person behind the binoculars on the summit observing dispassionately from a distance.  He’s standing in front of a beautiful home.  Obviously, he’s succeeded in getting to the place he dreamt of.
 
Whether you’re driving down Sagamore, moving toward retirement, or just on the journey of life, it matters who is in the lead. 
 
And so, this morning, I’d ask you “Who is leading you on your journey through life?  Do you feel like there’s a clear purpose to your life’s trajectory?”  Now, maybe you’re thinking, “All that pursuit of life’s purpose stuff is great for younger people; but I’ve moved beyond that.”  Well, I hope that’s not what you’re thinking because here’s the thing: scripture reveals that God has a purpose for our lives no matter our age.  Just consider that the patriarch Abraham was 75 years old when God first called him to pull up his tent pegs and set out on the journey to Canaan.[i]  Life is a journey.  God beckons us to follow him on that journey.  God wants to be our leader.   
 
And the trustworthy leadership of God is the focus of this morning’s Old Testament story of the Israelites on their exodus from Egypt.  They are on a journey; but it is far more than a physical trek.  It is about a spiritual journey, a spiritual transformation as they discover what it means to surrender their lives to the faithful, reliable leadership of God.  And often, like it did for those ancient Israelites, yielding to the leadership of God means our life’s circumstances may change dramatically.
 
I was reading an article several months back that made a comment about change.  It stated that, despite what people tell you, the only people who really like change are the people who are instituting the change.  Therapists who work with clients suffering addiction or co-dependency can tell you that, as human creatures, we will often choose a known evil over an unknown good.  We resist change; even positive change. 
 
Perhaps there is no better illustration of this human predilection to avoid change than this story of the Israelites on their exodus from the slavery of Egypt to the liberation of the promised land of Canaan.  Old Testament bible scholar, Walter Brueggemann notes that, for those ancient Israelites, Egypt was a bit like an addiction.  It wasn’t a good place for them to be at all.  But it was what they knew.  And, as they strike out into the unknown wilderness terrain, they begin to romanticize the Egypt that enslaved them.  The biblical book of Exodus tells the story of the journey of those Israelites from Egypt to Canaan.  It is a geographical journey for sure.  But it is, more importantly, a story of their spiritual journey; their spiritual formation, an awakening self-awareness of who they are and whose they are; a gradual, and often reluctant, surrendering to God as their leader.  They have spent a long time under the leadership of Pharaohs.  Now, it will take them more than a generation to relearn how to live under the leadership of God.
 
Their journey springs from the promise God made long ago to that old and shriveled up man named Abraham.  And it is their promise as well.  In truth, the story does not begin with them.  It begins with Abraham, with Jacob, with Joseph whose bones they carry with them on the way out of town. 
 
As the Book of Exodus opens, our author reminds us that Jacob and his twelve sons had arrived in Egypt long, long ago.  Forced to flee there to secure food during a famine, for whatever reason, they chose to remain long after the threat had passed.  Exodus 1:7 says, “But the Israelites were fruitful and prolific; they multiplied and grew exceedingly strong, so that the land was filled with them.”  Generations have passed and it seems these people have forgotten who they once were and where they came from.  They belong to a God who made them a promise and gave them a place.  And yet, generation after generation remained in that foreign land until an evil Pharaoh perceived them to be a threat and set about the work of subjugation, enslavement and ethnic cleansing.  This is leadership designed to destroy them; leadership that leads to suffering and death. 
 
The Israelites cry out; they give voice to their suffering.  But something is curiously missing from the story because we’re not told they cry out to God; simply that they cry out.  They are miserable in this foreign place.  And their cry, the book of Exodus tells us, activates the memory of God.[ii]  Perhaps the people have forgotten God’s promises to them; but God remembers.  God remembers the covenant he made with their forefathers: Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  God recognizes these people as his people; the people he shall lead out of slavery.  God seeks to deliver them, to liberate them, and to return them to their rightful place: to the land of Canaan from whence they’d come so long ago.
 
The circumstances under which the Israelites had been living must certainly have impacted how they thought of themselves.  It appeared that Pharaoh was their leader.  Yet, it was never really Pharaoh in control, despite how things may have appeared.  God is the one active in the lives of these people and God will teach them through this wilderness journey what it means to be led by God.  They’ve not merely been cut loose to fend for themselves – good luck and God bless ya.  No; God is going to lead and guide them through this wilderness journey.
 
During this past Lent some of us read and discussed the book “Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes” by William Bridges.[iii]  In that book, Bridges writes, “To become something else, you have to stop being what you are now; and to develop a new attitude or outlook, you have to let go of the old one you have now.  Even though it sounds backwards, endings always come first.”  I’m guessing that many of those Israelites had been conditioned to assume Pharaoh was their leader, Pharaoh controlled them.  But Pharaoh was never really the one in charge of them.  God is the one who leads these people.  Yet, to physically abandon Egypt will be much easier than abandoning that way of thinking.  They will frequently romanticize the land of their captors when they cry out to God about the flesh pots of food back in Egypt.  They fear the wilderness.  It will be a 40-year long lesson in trusting God and in learning to surrender to his leadership over their lives.      
 
So into the wilderness they go, led by God who makes his presence visible, appearing as a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.  God will lead them on this journey.  Even in the darkness, God will light their path.  God will even make accommodations for their fear and trepidation.  In this morning’s scripture we read that God would lead the people on an alternate route out of Egypt.  It’ll be a roundabout way, but it will allow them to avoid the Philistines because God knows, doing battle against the Philistines at the start of this journey will be more than those Israelites can bear.  God leads them by an alternate path yet it, too, will present its own unique challenges bringing them to the shores of the Red Sea: a body of water in front of them and the army of Pharaoh nipping at their heels.  They travel by day and by night with God leading them each step of the way.
 
The journey, you know, was intended to be much shorter than forty years.[iv]  But when they first reached the Promised Land and scouts were sent in to scope it out, they weren’t ready.  They feared the people who lived there more than they trusted God.  They’d not yet learned that they belonged to a God who would bless and preserve them.  They’d not yet learned that it was safe to follow God’s lead.  Their bodies have been liberated, but apparently their minds and hearts hadn’t kept pace.  It was a mighty big change to place themselves under the leadership of God.

It is a struggle for them as it often is for us.  We let other forces high-jack our journey and take the lead.  We succumb to fear.  Our life’s journey becomes aimless, a frustrating journey through the wilderness.  Sometimes we feel oppressed and exploited by people or situations that try to control us and convince us we belong to them.
 
It was decades ago, yet I remember it like it was yesterday: a young lady in my youth group at my church in Dayton.  We always started youth group with a meal.  That evening was small group.  But she arrived late so she was still finishing up eating as the other youth headed out to meet with their small group leaders.  I could tell she wasn’t her usual cheerful self so I asked her how her week had been.  It didn’t take long before she got around to the source of her sadness.  Her parents had high power jobs and they’d recently purchased an enormous new home which meant even more hours on the job, even more clients, to make those big mortgage payments.  She said to me, “I feel like I hardly get to spend any time with them anymore.  When I was younger, sometimes dad would take me out to Dogs and Suds and we’d get cheese burgers and just sit there and eat and talk for as long as we wanted to.  Now, he’s too busy.  I really miss that.”  And I thought to myself that – for all the outward appearance of success – there was family held captive by a Pharaoh.
 
Friends: God is the one who wants to lead us; to lead us out of places of captivity and fear and into places of security and peace.  God wants to light our path as God lit the path of those ancient Israelites.  Jesus said to his followers:  “I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”[v]  Jesus made clear to his followers that he was God’s guiding presence.  He promised his followers that after his death and resurrection, his Spirit, the Helper, the Advocate would live within them to guide and direct them.[vi]  And that same Spirit is available to us today; to live within us, to lead us; to direct us on our life’s journey.

But since it isn’t a visible cloud or a pillar of fire or an in-the-flesh, first century Palestinian rabbi, you might be thinking, “How will I see it?  How will I discern it so I can follow?”  Well, there are things you can do – things all of us can do – spiritual practices that we can engage in to fine tune our hearts and minds, our ears and eyes to the leading of God: practices like prayer and the study of scripture.  Psalm 119 says, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”[vii]  The bible is a way in which God leads us.  There are other practices as well:  Christian meditation and solitude; discerning our spiritual gifts and putting them into practice; making time periodically to reflect on our spiritual journey to date and where God has brought us from; prayerfully reflecting on the past so we become more sensitive to God’s guidance in the future.

There is a six-week study I’ll be leading later this summer called Companions on the Journey that focuses on our walk with Christ and discerning God’s leading in our lives.  If you’re interested in being a part of that, let me know.  But I can tell you, it takes a commitment of your time and thoughtfulness because, for all of us, the spiritual journey can often feel like a trek through the wilderness and it takes intentional practice if we’re to learn to trust in the faithful, reliable leadership of God who is a lamp to our feet, a light to our path, who leads us by day and by night, whose presence never leaves us.  Amen.

[i] See Genesis 12:1-9
[ii] See Exodus 2:23-25
[iii] Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes by William Bridges; Life Long Books, 2004.
[iv] See the Book of Numbers, chapter 14.
[v] John 8:12
[vi] See John, chapter 14
[vii] Psalm 119:105

by Pastor Tracey Leslie
Scripture: 1 Kings 17:8-16

This morning, during the 9:15 hour, we began a new study called “Who Am I?” examining the “I Am” statements of Jesus in the gospel of John.  (Now this evening, they’ll be a follow-up to that session for young adults, a gathering that will “dive deeper” into those “I am” sayings and how they impact the way we choose to live our lives.)  But this morning, we began by recognizing that that phrase, “I am,” is of critical importance in John’s gospel because it is the same phrase with which God identifies himself when he encounters Moses at the burning bush in the book of Exodus.  God says: “I am; I am who I am.”  And Jesus, throughout the gospel of John, tells his followers “I am.”  We discover, in Jesus, an embodiment of the God of the Old Testament.  Not merely a representative of God, but truly God.  So, in this current sermon series, we’ll be looking at Old Testament stories that reveal that connection between the identity of God in the Old Testament and Jesus in the gospel of John.  This morning, we examine God as the source of the bread that sustains our lives.  Our God prepares for us a never-ending meal.
 
In John, chapter six, Jesus said “I am the bread of life.” 
 
Now bread is the staple of life.  Bread is symbolic of those things which we need to survive on a daily basis. 
 
In 1918, during the dark days of World War 1, Eric Enstrom, a photographer in Bovey, Minnesota captured a shot that became famous, known by the title “Grace.”  I imagine all of us have seen some rendition of it.  It is an elderly man, Charles Wilden, seated at a table.  There on the table before him is a bible, a bowl of gruel, a knife and a loaf of bread.  At Enstrom’s prompting, Wilden bowed his head and folded his hands against his brow in an attitude of prayer.  Enstrom noted that, even in a time of national poverty, that picture captured a spirit of thankfulness for daily bread.  Bread is symbolic; it comprehensively symbolizes those things we need to survive on a day to day basis.  And God is the source of our daily bread; it is God who sets a never-ending meal. 
 
In Matthew, when Jesus teaches his disciples that model prayer we call “The Lord’s Prayer,” the first petition or request in the prayer is “Give us this day our daily bread.”  In other words, “give us – day by day – that which we need to get through the day.”  Scripture, from beginning to end, reveals that God is the giver of bread; God is the source of that which we need to get through the day.  Ultimately, bread doesn’t come from a grocery store, it doesn’t come from a bakery; and it isn’t earned by the sweat of our brow; it is, ultimately, a gift from God who sustains our lives day by day.
 
The Israelites had barely shaken the dust of Egypt from their sandals, barely entered the wilderness, when they became a loud, hungry, fearful mob.  They cried out to Moses, “If only we had died… in the land of Egypt, when we… ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.”[i]  But their fears are foolish for God sustains them.  God pours manna from the sky; it is the bread of heaven.  Every day for 40 years, those Israelites have bread to eat; a never-ending meal; a gift from God.
​
But perhaps of all the Old Testament “bread stories,” none is quite as intriguing as that which we find in the Old Testament story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath.  The verses I shared with you this morning are a small scene within this larger narrative about Elijah, the prophet of God.  So let me give some background. 
 
Elijah enters our scripture abruptly at 1 Kings 17.  He is the nemesis of the Israel’s King Ahab.  Elijah is the divine response to Ahab’s sinfulness; a sort of Almighty rebuttal.  Ahab marries Jezebel, whose father is the king of Sidon.  No doubt, this is a strategic marriage designed for political and military advantage.  But Queen Jezebel is a force to be reckoned with and she comes to wield strong influence over her husband.  With Jezebel’s encouragement, King Ahab leads the Israelites to worship Ba’al, storm god of the Sidonians.  They believed that their god, Ba’al, kind of fell off the map, so to speak, each hot, arid summer.  Perhaps he went on a journey or was sleeping… or had even died.  But then, come fall, Ba’al reappeared, a resurrection of sorts, and he sent storms from the heavens, watering the parched earth so that the ground became fertile and productive and brought forth bread.  That is what they believed. 
 
And that is why the God of Israel sends Elijah to pronounce a very specific judgment: a drought that will endure for three years.  God will make quite clear: he is the source of wind and rain, sunshine and harvest; grape and grain; not ba’al.  Having pronounced God’s judgment, Elijah goes on the run to escape the wrath of Ahab and Jezebel.  Initially, God directs Elijah to hide out in a wadi, a deep ravine where rain from storm run-off pools.  Elijah hides there and God sends him bread and meat every morning and evening, via a raven… an ancient “carrier pigeon” of sorts.
 
Now if one were to stop the story right there...  Well, it’s romantic, exotic, surreal.  Elijah in his divinely imposed exile; tucked away in a remote valley, fed mysteriously by a raven, standing the test of time against an evil king.  It’s a very impressive story.
 
But it doesn’t end there.  Eventually the water that collected in that wadi dries up.  After all, this is a three year long drought.  You’ve seen pictures of those reservoirs out in California, right?  Time-lapsed photography shows how the water levels have dropped and the banks are parched, dry and cracked.  So what will become of Elijah, this prophet of God?
 
Surely God will sustain him by another means.  We might anticipate something even more romantic, exotic, and mysterious?  But no; not this time.  God sends Elijah to Sidon.  What?  Do you remember who is king there:   Jezebel’s father?  Do you remember who they worship there?  Ba’al.  God is sending Elijah into the heart of enemy territory. 
 
Well, at least we can hope God has some other mighty prophet on the lam, already there waiting Elijah’s arrival; another holy refugee.  Perhaps God has arranged for a clandestine meeting.  Not.  God directs Elijah to a village called Zarephath.  He is to walk right through the gate into town and there he’ll meet a widow, right out in the open, gathering sticks.  A widow; really?  To counter the wickedness of a mighty king, who will become the prophet’s helper: a foreign widow with a small boy and an even smaller supply of food?  Widows had no power in the ancient world.  All throughout the Old Testament God names those most vulnerable as widows, orphans and foreigners.  So hey, why not have Elijah seek out a widow who’s a foreigner… with a helpless child to take care of?  How’s that for a show of strength? 
 
But, it works.  Elijah tells her to serve the very last bit of food she has to him because, if she will take that risk, then God will miraculously sustain that little bit of oil and milled flour so that it will sustain the three of them for as long as necessary.  Elijah tells her, “First bake a cake of bread for me and then make a little something for you and your son because “The jar of me-al will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.”[ii]
 
I’ll tell you the truth.  If God was going to perform some amazing miracle like dropping bread from the sky, I might find that pretty cool.  That might be a gig I’d sign up for.  But sending me into the heart of enemy territory to seek help from someone who was a nobody and who had nothing and that was God’s plan for my survival. .. Well, I’d say, if that was Plan B, let’s go back to Plan A cause that is not a very good plan.
 
But here is the reason why I picked this particular bread story for us this morning… Here’s why I think it matters; why this story is so important.  Because, if we’re honest with ourselves, we live in a world full of ba’al’s.  The world out there tells us about all kinds of stuff that we can do to secure our well-being; to survive, even thrive.  There are diet plans and investment plans.  We’re counseled: make sure you’re saving your money to the greatest extent possible.  Not just a little here and there but as much as you can spare.  Get a good financial advisor because no fate could be worse than outliving our money.  And do as much as you can; you and your kids.  Civic organizations, committee leadership, sports teams; the more we do, we’re told, the more important we become; and the more important we become, the more effectively we can protect ourselves.  But friends, all that planning and scheming; all that running here and there, doing this and that; well, those are the ba’als of our day.  We accept the delusion that they provide some enduring advantage and security. 
 
Here is why I picked this story this morning… Here’s why I think it matters to us.  Several months back, some of us were in a bible study together talking about stewardship and here was the question that stopped us in our tracks.  It wasn’t a question about sharing, or giving, or even tithing.  It was this: could we accept that, in giving generously, in risking sacrificially, it could – potentially – mean that we might, at some point, need to rely on the help of someone else?  Let me repeat that.  Can we accept that, by giving in a risky, generous way, we might, down the line, need to rely on the help of someone else?  How do we feel about that?  It probably makes most of us uncomfortable, right?  But friends, that’s at the heart of this story.  When that wadi dried up, God sent Elijah to a helpless widow in enemy territory to be preserved and protected under her roof.  And, crazy though it was, Elijah went. 
 
But, it’s not such a big leap to make if we truly do believe, down deep within ourselves that ultimately, every good gift is from above.  If we truly do believe that God is the giver of our daily bread.  If we truly do believe that God is the one who gives us what we need to get through each day.  If we truly believe all of our resources are on loan from God and that everything is God’s anyway, then why will it bother us to receive through the hand of another?  What risk will there be if it all originates with God anyway and not with us?
 
Now, let me clarify.  I’m not encouraging you to quit your job, dump your savings account and just wait to see what happens.  But here’s what I hope all of us will think about.  There are those times when we see needs around us and our response is to give not what is needed but what we think we can afford – what seems safe and manageable – because, heaven forbid, we should give so much that we might need the help of someone else down the line.  That is a risk we don’t want to take.  That is a position we don’t want to be in.  We would just as soon avoid that kind of vulnerability.  Elijah?  Well, he’s a great bible character; but do we really want to be like Elijah?  And yet, avoiding risk constricts our faith because faith isn’t just some set of ideas or the mere belief in God’s existence.  Faith is trust in the context of relationship; a firm trust that – no matter what – God has our six; a trust that is willing to accept that God can provide for us through others and that there is no shame in allowing God to do so.  Elijah was a man, an Israelite, a prophet of God; yet he accepted that God would be serving him his daily bread from the hands of a poor, foreign widow.
 
Friends, most of you are aware that I’ve been out of work these past couple weeks because of surgery.  And some of you know that I like to work out; I’m super focused on being physically strong and fit.  I don’t like to feel physically vulnerable.  I like to do things for myself.  But after surgery, like it or no, I was vulnerable.  The first couple days I couldn’t even get in and out of chairs without my husband’s help.  But in the midst of that vulnerability, you all were there to care for me.  You brought meals and groceries.  You covered the church office.  You made a point of keeping me informed about things I needed to know and didn’t bother me with things I didn’t need to know.  You went to the post office for me and made extra trips into the church office.  You prayed for me, you sent cards, you called to check and see if there was anything I needed.  You were “bread of life,” so to speak.  God provided for me, God fed me and sustained me, in a time of vulnerability, through you and I was blessed and God was honored.

Friends, sometimes we scurry like crazy to control so much stuff in our lives… needlessly; because God’s got us.  Our God is the bread of life and the meal he serves is never-ending.    
    
[i] Exodus 16:3. NRSV
[ii] 1 Kings 17:14.