Bread.

Last night, at neighborhood group (my church’s weekly small group meeting), the icebreaker question was “What’s your favorite smell?” My answer was “freshly baked bread.” There is a Sara Lee bakery on 8th Avenue, and I try to roll down my window whenever I drive by, just to get a whiff. Even mentioning the smell made me want to smell, or better yet, taste, some good bread.

After neighborhood group, my wife and I went to see the Nashville Symphony play in a nearby park. We sat on a blanket with some friends we’ve gotten to know over the past few months. One of them, Mary Katherine, offered me something to eat: freshly baked bread and brie cheese. Brie is my favorite kind of cheese.

There was a knife to cut both, but it proved unwieldy for the bread. So instead, I picked it up and tore it. The only other time that I tear bread is every week at church for communion. As I raised it to my lips, I was overwhelmed with the reality that Jesus was there. He gives good gifts to His children. When we ask for bread, He will not give us a stone. Sitting there enjoying music and conversation, He gave me a tangible reminder that His body was broken for me, that He provides for me, He is always with me, and that He gives me overwhelming grace instead of the punishment I deserve.