“He said
this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do.” (John 6:6)
If anyone ever writes my obituary, I’d like it to be remembered that I once studied under one of the most prestigious of Lutheran scholars, the late Rev. Dr. John H.P. Reumann[i], and lived to tell about it. Dr. Reumann had an encyclopedic knowledge of the New Testament, an eidetic memory for facts, a—sometimes—caustic wit, and a very low tolerance for dead-beat future pastors who were more intent on drinking beer than studying for his examinations. Theses exams were brutal beyond the blackest cruelty of the Dark Ages and could disgorge cold perspiration from the brow of even the most celebrated Jeopardy champion. I passed most of them, but really tanked my final on the Gospel of John. I got the first 25% of the test right, but really blew the 75% essay portion on the origins and development of the Fourth Gospel.
This was a big humiliation for me as I’d never received an “F” on any test I’d taken in formal education. Reumann’s response was to write a very pastoral note in my “Blue Book,” saying he could see I was trying and that he still felt I had great potential as a Biblical scholar. Because so many other students complained, he later re-weighted the exam percentages, which snuck me up into the “D” range.[ii]
This all begs the question: Why do professors give exams in the first place? Answer: It’s the only way they can find out if their students learned anything. A test or an examination is an exploration into something. It’s a fact-finding mission. In this famous Gospel passage appointed for Pentecost 9 (John 6:1-21), Jesus gives Philip a little practical exam to see if Philip can figure out how to feed five thousand hungry people. Jesus, the scripture tells us, doesn’t really need to test Philip since he already knows how this situation is going to play out. Similarly, God doesn’t need to test any of us to discover our strengths or weaknesses. God already knows.
When we feel we’re being “tested,” it’s not because God needs us to prove ourselves. It’s also not because God loves to jerk us around just to watch us squirm. No. The examination is all on our part. We’re the ones who will find out what we know and don’t know. And we’re the ones who will learn from the experience.
Maybe Philip and the other disciples learned to take a real, critical but faith-filled look at what God could provide before they started fretting that the situation was going south. There’s a reason why we have the expression “blinded by fear.” A lack of faith keeps us from seeing what God can do through us. Adventurers have often said, “If you panic, you die.” Far from panicking, Jesus takes the meager food that he has and gives thanks for it (v. 11).[iii] Jesus sees what has been provided, not what is lacking.
Now, you might think that after watching the Lord perform boatloads of healing miracles, Philip would’ve just told Jesus, “I don’t know where the food will come from, boss, but I know you can provide it.” But no. His answer, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little (v. 7)” gets him an “A” in economics but a “D” in theology. He only escapes an “F” because he didn’t declare that feeding the 5K was utterly impossible (although he may have thought it!).
There’s a thin line between pessimism and realism. As Christians, we’re expected to be realistic about the world situation. We’re expected to see hurt and need and sin and call them for what they are. But we’re also expected to be people of faith—people who know that on the crappiest day we’ll ever have God still provides more blessings than we can count. It’s never God’s intent to let us “fail” our earthly test. Rather, it’s our opportunity to see how God has acted for us and through us in the past, and draw strength, resolve, and inspiration for the present.
Alas, Philip isn’t the only one who gets low marks on the exam in this story. The whole crowd—everyone who truly believed Jesus could provide them with free healthcare—totally misinterprets this feeding miracle and tries to take Jesus by force to be the kind of Messiah they want (v. 16). They want a God of Prosperity, an earthly ruler who can pump up the stock market and scare the pants off of their enemies. But that’s not who Jesus is. In fact, Jesus withdraws from this (v. 15). If we want Jesus on our own terms, it’s not really Jesus we want.
I think our whole life of faith is one giant practical exam. God is constantly challenging us to examine ourselves, our motives, and our ability to trust. We can’t escape trying circumstances or the suffering which sometimes comes from them. We can, however, learn to see God and our relationship with God through a new lens. As Martin Luther put it:
It is true that God tempts no one, but we ask…that God would preserve and keep us, so that the devil, the world, and our flesh may not deceive us or mislead us into false belief, despair, and other great and shameful sins, and that, although we may be attacked by them, we may finally prevail and gain the victory.[iv]
[i] If
you’d like to learn more about this remarkable Lutheran, you can click on his
name: John HP Reumann.
[ii]
Still humiliating, but better than an F. I eventually took a B in the class—in
case you were wondering.
[iii] And this food is pretty meager.
Barley was just about the cheapest grain you could use to make bread, and was a
staple for the poor folks.
[iv] The Small Catechism. Luther’s
explanation to the Sixth petition of the Lord’s Prayer.
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