We are going to come aside from the course which we have been following in the earlier meetings. For the little time this morning, we shall be occupied with that which has engaged us in this little while: the Lord’s table.
I would ask you to turn to one or two passages: firstly, in the Gospel by Mark, Mark 6:34.
And He came forth and saw a great multitude, and He had compassion on them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd: and He began to teach them many things.
Then the Gospel by John, John 6:4-7:
Now the passover, the feast of the Jews, was at hand.
Jesus therefore lifting up His eyes, and seeing that a great multitude cometh unto Him, saith unto Philip, Whence are we to buy bread, that these may eat?
And this He said to prove him: for He Himself knew what He would do.
Philip answered Him, Two hundred shillings’ worth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one may take a little.
And John 6:33-35:
For the bread of God is that which cometh down out of heaven, and giveth life unto the world.
They said therefore unto Him, Lord, evermore give us this bread.
Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of life: he that cometh to Me shall not hunger, and he that believeth on Me shall never thirst.
Then the First Letter to the Corinthians, 1 Corinthians 11:23-24:
For I received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord Jesus in the night in which He was betrayed took bread;
and when He had given thanks, He brake it, and said, This is My body, which is for you: this do in remembrance of Me.
When Philip estimated that two hundred shillings’ worth of bread would be the very least to feed the multitude, he was putting the price far beyond their human resources. To him, it represented a very costly undertaking to meet the need of that hungry multitude—those scattered and hungry sheep without a shepherd.
But when he had put so large an estimate upon what was necessary, he was far below the actual cost of what was represented: that is, the heavenly bread.
If he had multiplied a thousand times the two hundred shillings, he would never have reached the cost and the value of that which was symbolic at that time in the wilderness: the bread of heaven.
That which was in the mind of the Lord—He knew what He would do—the Lord had in His mind the real meaning of what was taking place. What was in the mind of the Lord was infinitely more precious than two hundred shillings multiplied many times.
This indeed, from heaven’s standpoint, from the Lord’s standpoint, was costly bread—very costly bread, beyond the estimate of man.
When the Lord proceeded to take the loaves, break them, and give them to the disciples, at that time they little realised that they were called into that costliness. They were being brought into actual association with the infinite costliness of the heavenly bread.
They were called to minister in fellowship with His Son. Little, little recognised it at the moment. But He could have applied to this matter what He said in another connection at another time:
What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt understand hereafter.
He took the loaf and brake it. And how much is found in that word, “brake”!
It is a pity that the revisers have taken from the text and put into the margin, “broken for you.” But, as you notice, it was there, and many authorities recognise that it was there: “My body, which is not only for you, but broken for you.” The infinite cost of that breaking!
Friends, He calls them into partnership with this great breaking and distributing. He was really, only in a symbolic way, calling them into the fellowship of His sufferings, which were to become the life of men.
John gives us the full explanation of the incident in the wilderness, the feeding of the multitude. Jesus explains His act there. So, what do we have?
It is, in the first place, the infinite preciousness and costliness of every fragment of Christ that is offered to us. Yes, every little bit broken from Him, so to speak, and presented to us, contains the great costliness of His redeeming love—of His brokenness for our salvation.
If, at any time, there is offered to us through a life, through a ministry, a word, or any other way, some small portion of Christ—as we have taken a fragment this morning, each one of us—if there is offered to us a fragment of Christ, in every fragment there is embodied this costliness of our redemption.
This costliness of the life which He is and gives, this costliness in His brokenness, is offered to us.
Do not feel, dear friends, that the ministration of Christ to His people needs to be with the matter-of-fact, matter-of-course cheapness of just repeated hearing of His Word, receiving that which really does represent Him.
We have become so accustomed to hearing, going and coming, going and coming through the years, and hearing and being offered, that we are able to take it for granted.
And if we do that, I think I would find your agreement if I said that we do not recognise how infinitely costly every fragment of Christ is that is offered to us.
It is like that. You and I need to be delivered from familiarity—the weakness of familiarity.
Christ, in a sense, needs to be redeemed from our lack of appreciation of what any little bit of Him really does mean.
That is the first thing that comes to us out of this record. The disciples did not at first realise what it meant. The Lord Jesus put the fragments into their hands: “Give ye them.” But in after-life they did realise.
You find that they realised that the ministry which was committed to them was not only a costly ministry, but a ministry of infinite importance. They entreated, they saw, and prayed that those to whom it was offered should be alive to what was really being presented to them.
They saw the tremendous issues bound up with every little bit of Christ that they had to offer. This is a word for us: to realise that, as we take the loaf and break a small fragment, in that fragment, in a symbolic way, is represented all that the Lord Jesus had to give by His death.
And, of course, there follows this: fellowship in His sufferings is inseparable from any kind of ministration of Christ.
This may not carry a very strong appeal, because you still know something of it. I wish I could say this: great numbers are those who have ambitions to be preachers—ambition to get into what is called “the ministry.”
For some of them, it has something to gratify their own ambition in life. They go out to display themselves, take hold of it for themselves, make it serve their own glory or reputation.
In fact, the fact is, if what we have read means this—that the fellowship of Christ’s sufferings cannot be separated from any ministry of Christ, any true ministry of Christ—then that ministry must be born out of a real fellowship with the Lord in His sufferings.
The brokenness must be transmitted from Him to all who would serve Him.
This, again, was something that these disciples came to know afterwards. That day, outside with the multitude, the distribution through their hands—how little they understood what they were doing, what the Lord was doing, what the Lord meant by this! How little!
But they were baptised into His sufferings later, and out of that baptism of His passion, which they shared, came their ministry. It was therefore ministry impregnated with the very passion and travail of His soul.
It became for them a soul matter, not a professional thing which they were paid to carry out—nothing about duty. It was something which wrung their souls in many a Gethsemane, where they had, as it were, to say, “Not My will,” at very great cost.
That cuts across in two ways. I am not speaking to a lot of preachers—those who would call themselves ministers—although it is such a mistake to put certain people into that category and leave the rest out. We are all ministers of Christ here, in some way.
It works both ways. To us, as those who are, every one of us, called upon to give something of Christ to this world of need and to His scattered and hungry sheep—to give something in some way, by life, by word, by hand—to give.
But if it is going to be effective, it will be just exactly as His giving of Himself was effective: on the same principle. It costs. It just costs. Anything that is of any value costs.
If we want our lives to be channels and vehicles for the transmission of something of Christ to others, let it be understood that such ministration of Christ necessitates our fellowship with Him in His sufferings.
That will explain why the Lord brings us into that position: why the test, why the trial, the adversity, the affliction, so many kinds. Why? That we should have something of Christ to give, carrying the real value of our Lord.
Well, we could say very much about why much ministry does not go very far, does not count for very much. Those in it are not prepared to pay the price.
Well, it works that way so far as our calling to minister Christ to others is concerned. It will inevitably come out of experiences of suffering and affliction if it is going to be as effective as His has been.
On the other hand, dear friends, is not this a call to us for a new evaluation of everything and anything that really is Christ?
If the Lord really does give a word which is the content of Himself, which tells of Himself in it, it really behoves us to recognise that this is not something we can regard lightly.
There is here the potential of His own infinite Son. A new appreciation of any ministry that is a ministry of Christ.
We say, “Easy come, easy go.” That ought never to be true of our relationship to the Lord, either as from Him to others or as from Him to ourselves.
The receivers must enter into His sufferings as much as the givers, if there is to be fruit.
It is but a brief word, but it is just an emphasis upon this one thing: He took bread; He gave the brokenness to them. Out of His own brokenness for them, they might minister Him in all the virtue of His sacrifice to others.
It is a word of comfort, because it explains very much. It explains why the Lord brings us into that fellowship of His passion, His trial, His suffering, His disappointment, His reproach, His despising, His rejection, His loneliness—everything that went to make up His brokenness.
He brings us into it in some way or other. We are going really to deserve it. It requires broken ministers to minister a broken Christ.
And if we are really to come into the good of every bit of Christ that comes our way, presented to us, we shall only do it along the pathway of His sufferings.
It has to be something that happens between our hearing, between its being offered to us, and its becoming a return movement to His satisfaction. Something has to happen.
We take our food, and presently our food becomes our action. But something has happened between. Something has happened between.
That food that we took at our meal is going through a breaking-up and a breaking-down process. You do not know what is going on—or you do sometimes know what is going on in your bodies when you have had a meal. Some do not, but some do! There is a mighty struggle going on.
That is all being broken, turned to pieces, changed, and transmuted. Something is going on between the taking in and then the giving out in energy.
What we receive of Christ, and what we have to do in order that it may be effective—there is something that has got to go on in us: a real battle within over this thing, a real conflict over that word, a real challenge set up.
You know, transmuting from the thing resting in the stomach to vital energy.
Is that true always of the congregation? The congregation comes together and the Word is preached. The sermon is good. The hymn is sung. Then, out for that until the next time.
I am afraid that is true very largely and very often—not for me to judge, of course—but having some long experience of that sort of thing, one has often had to ask the question: What was the good of that coming up? What has resulted from it—that giving which was costly giving?
And one has so often to say, “But it was just taken, perhaps forgotten, and another time, and yet another,” and no battle over it, no exercise, no costliness in experience related to it.
You and I are really going to be built up with the increase of Christ. It will be just in this way.
He took the loaf and brake it. That is, He took Himself and was broken—broken. Oh, the anguish, the suffering, the sorrow, the travail of that breaking of Him, that we might come into the good of it and might have the good of it for others.
So, Lord, make this not only a word, perhaps, of correction, perhaps of admonition, but a word of comfort; for that is what we need as He takes us through trial, adversity, and suffering of various kinds—one this way and another that way.
And when we feel that it is a breaking process, may we realise that it is in order that we shall have something really vital to give. For the bread which comes down from heaven is not for information, but for life.