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Friday, July 01, 2005

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.

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