Eat it!

“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live” (Isaiah 55:1-3).

God’s invitation in our text is worth repeated reflection and meditation. It needs savouring. It requires deep breathing so that we discern its various aromas. It must seep down into our hearts to expose all the ways in which we labour for things that do not satisfy. We must sit with it long enough to experience its fullness. As it fills us, the empty food we’ve eaten is revealed for its deception.

Year’s ago, someone paraphrased it like this, “The Sabbath day is God’s market day for the week’s provision wherein God will have us come to him and buy of him, without silver or money, the bread of angels, and water of life, the wine of the sacrament, and milk of the Word to feed our souls; tried gold to enrich our faith; precious eye-salve to heal our spiritual blindness; and the white clothing of Christ’s righteousness to cover our filthy nakedness.”

More recently, Eugene Peterson offered this paraphrase, “Hey there! All who are thirsty, come to the water! Are you penniless? Come anyway—buy and eat! Come, buy your drinks, buy wine and milk. Buy without money—everything’s free! Why do you spend your money on junk food, your hard-earned cash on cotton candy? Listen to me, listen well: Eat only the best, fill yourself with only the finest. Pay attention, come close now, listen carefully to my life-giving, life-nourishing words.”

On God’s market day, we need to cease our serving so we can be served. We need to cease our grasping so we can reflect on what we’ve been given. We need to stop talking, so we can  hear Jesus say, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” There’s no need to fight for our clothing in the sanctuary; here we are clothed in Christ. In the sanctuary we are immersed in God’s strange and upside-down economy in which the currency of the world has no value.

On Sunday, we must cease in our calling to do our work, that the Lord may do his work in us. If all of life is worship, the sanctuary is the place where we learn how. In other words, gathered worship equips us for our scattered worship in the world. The sanctuary practices us into the gracious work of God.

I’ve used the words Sunday and sanctuary intentionally, yet recognizing that some must work on Sundays, and some are not physically able to come to public worship. For various reasons, the perceived need for public worship has been diminishing. But there is good reason to refresh the discipline. The church has long recognized that God does not form individual Christians, but he forms a people, his people. We need each other and we are formed together.

Public worship functions like a training ground, a spiritual gymnasium for our souls. We come for eye surgery. We cannot return to the world until our priesthood has been repaired. We come to be ministered to so that we can minister outside the sanctuary.

As you journey on, hear Jesus’ invitation:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 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 (Matthew 11:28-29).