Jesus Is “The Feast”—Our Daily Bread for Life, Provision, and Abundance
The oil lamps burned low. The remains of the evening feast, now finished, sat in wooden bowls. Though pushed aside, the smell of roasted grain, bitter herbs, and olive oil still lingered in the warm air of the upper room, mingling with the scent of burning wicks.
In the streets below, the shuffle of sandals on stone, the rattle of cart wheels, and the usual sounds of a Jerusalem bustling with nightlife carried instead the solemn silence of a people remembering how God had saved them out of slavery.
Around the table, the disciples spoke in whispered tones. Already, hints of violence against Jesus had grown from rumor to outright edict. The religious leaders wished Him dead, and money was offered to those who could produce Jesus or His exact location.
Now, reclining around the low table, leaning on cushions in the Roman fashion, eleven men in the amber glow of lamplight watched their Teacher’s face. Jesus had been quieter than usual. Not distant or distracted, but heavy in thought: as if He were carrying something the rest of them could not see.
In the middle of the meal, He had stood, removed His outer garment, and with a towel around His waist, went around the table washing their feet. “You do not know now what I am doing,” He had told them, “but later you will understand.”
He saw, He knew, that His words, though clear, had only left them more confused. Slowly, His gaze moved around the room, taking in the face of each man. Do they get it? Do they understand the importance of this moment? If not now, when will they truly come to know who I am—know that He, I Am?
He reached for a loaf of bread. The unleavened loaf — flat, pale, slightly rough at the edges.
“All yeast, every crumb, has been physically removed from the house. This sweeping and searching by Jewish families is part of this week. And because of the word I have spoken to you, you are already clean. Though not all of you.”
Loaf in hand, arms held out, He acknowledged the confusion on their faces.
“You have kept this feast your whole lives,” He said. “Everyone of you.”
Though the Feast of Unleavened Bread would officially begin 24 hours later, for the Eleven, the Feast began now. And they could not comprehend why.
“You know the Torah. For seven days, you are to eat bread made without yeast. Remove the leaven from your houses. Nothing corrupt. Nothing rising. Nothing that spoils from within.”
He turned the loaf slowly in His hands.
“Because My Father brought your divisions out of Egypt, we celebrate the Festival of Unleavened Bread. This has been a lasting ordinance for our people. But I tell you, when My Father said to Moses, ‘I will rain down bread from heaven for you’ — when the dew dissolved and thin flakes like frost appeared on the ground in the desert, He was pointing to a time when He would feed you from His hand. When Moses said to them, ‘This is the bread the LORD has given you to eat,’ He spoke of me.”
Jesus broke the bread. The sound of it — that clean, quiet snap in the silent room — seemed to jar them. Peter’s eyes grew wide. John would later write that he remembered it for the rest of his life.
Jesus held out the broken pieces. “Take, eat. This is my body, given for you.”
“I am the bread of life. Come, all who are thirsty. Come and eat, without money, without cost. No longer spend your life laboring for bread that does not satisfy. From now on, you will live by every word of My Father.”
Carefully, He distributed the pieces individually to each man.
“I warned you before that unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Take now and eat. I am the bread of life. My words are life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry. “
Returning to His place at the table, He studied them once more. “The words I have spoken to you — they are the words My Father gives. They are full of the Spirit, and they are life itself.”
He let that settle over the room like the lamplight itself — warm, steady, reaching into every corner.
“If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. Do you believe this?”
Detecting the skepticism in their faces, he asked, “Peter?”
“Yes, Lord. You have the words of eternal life.”
“If you hold to my teaching, you are truly my disciples. If you hold to my words, you will know the truth. If you hold to my commands, the truth will set you free.”
Settling back, Jesus eyed the Eleven. One lost. Eleven present, but still lost in their thinking of who He was, why He came, and the price yet to be paid for their understanding of why He shared this feast with them now.
“Do this in remembrance of me as often as you eat and drink. I am the bread of life. I am the one who quenches your thirst. Believe my words. Live by my words. By my words, you are healed. By my words, you are saved. I am the word of God.”
Sundays, you’ll find the Pirate Preacher in Moore Square, Raleigh, NC, and at the bus station. There, Team Jesus passes out food, water, chips, and cookies. We also lay hands on and pray with others so they may enjoy the abundant life Jesus promised (John 10:10). His books are read by countless inmates and used to introduce others to Christ.
Down to Davy Jones on Amazon
Blackbeard the Pirate and Stede Bonnet’s Fateful Clash on Amazon
The End of Calico Jack on Amazon
Dead Calm, Bone Dry on Amazon
Curse of the Black Avenger on Amazon
