The Belly-Worshippers and the Bread of Heaven Text: John 6:22-25
Introduction: The Post-Miracle Hangover
We are a people easily impressed by spectacle. We love the grand gesture, the big event, the undeniable display of power. And so it was with the crowd in John chapter six. They had just witnessed a staggering miracle. Five thousand men, plus women and children, were fed to the full from a boy’s lunch. This was not a subtle act of providence; this was a sign, a thunderclap of divine authority. And the crowd, quite naturally, was impressed. They were so impressed, in fact, that they wanted to take Jesus by force and make Him king.
But a miracle is a dangerous thing in the hands of unregenerate men. A miracle can produce many things: astonishment, excitement, opportunism, even a kind of temporary religious fervor. But a miracle, by itself, cannot produce saving faith. What it produces is a crowd. And a crowd is a fickle beast. The same voices that cry "Hosanna" on Sunday are often the ones crying "Crucify Him" by Friday.
In our passage today, we are dealing with the morning after. The great event is over, the leftovers have been gathered, and the Teacher has vanished. What we see here is the anatomy of a false faith, a faith that is driven by the belly and not by the heart. This is a consumer faith. It is a faith that seeks a divine vending machine, not a divine sovereign. The crowd is seeking Jesus, which on the surface sounds commendable. But as the Lord will shortly make clear, it is possible to seek Jesus for all the wrong reasons. They are not seeking Him because He is the Bread of Heaven; they are seeking Him because He gave them bread from earth. This is the constant temptation of the church in every age, and particularly in our own affluent and comfortable age: to reduce the glorious, demanding, all-encompassing gospel of Jesus Christ to a mere spiritual additive, a way to get what we really want, whether that be full bellies, a stable society, or a quiet conscience.
But Jesus will not be used. He will not be a means to an end. He is the end. And this passage serves as a great sifting, a divine diagnostic. It forces us to ask the question not just "Are you seeking Jesus?" but "Why are you seeking Him?"
The Text
On the next day, the crowd which stood on the other side of the sea saw that there was no other small boat there, except one, and that Jesus had not entered with His disciples into the boat, but that His disciples had gone away alone. Other small boats came from Tiberias near to the place where they ate the bread after the Lord had given thanks. So when the crowd saw that Jesus was not there, nor His disciples, they themselves got into the small boats, and came to Capernaum seeking Jesus. And when they found Him on the other side of the sea, they said to Him, “Rabbi, when did You come here?”
(John 6:22-25 LSB)
The Detective Work of a Hungry Crowd (vv. 22-24)
We begin with the scene on the shore the next morning.
"On the next day, the crowd which stood on the other side of the sea saw that there was no other small boat there, except one, and that Jesus had not entered with His disciples into the boat, but that His disciples had gone away alone. Other small boats came from Tiberias near to the place where they ate the bread after the Lord had given thanks. So when the crowd saw that Jesus was not there, nor His disciples, they themselves got into the small boats, and came to Capernaum seeking Jesus." (John 6:22-24)
John, with his typical attention to detail, sets the stage for us. The crowd that remains on the eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee wakes up with a problem. Jesus is gone. They are like groupies who have discovered the band has checked out of the hotel. They begin to piece things together with a certain carnal logic. They had seen the disciples leave in the only boat that was there. They knew for a fact that Jesus had not gotten into that boat with them. So where did He go? He couldn’t have sailed away. He couldn’t have walked around the entire northern end of the lake that quickly. The whole situation is a mystery.
Notice the energy they expend. This is not a casual search. There is a real diligence here. They are putting facts together. They are investigating. And when some other boats arrive from Tiberias, a town on the western shore, they see their opportunity. They don't hesitate. They pile into these boats and make the journey across the sea to Capernaum, which they knew was Jesus's base of operations. They are actively "seeking Jesus."
This is a sobering picture. It demonstrates that religious zeal, energy, and effort are not, in themselves, indicators of true faith. These people are going to great lengths. They are crossing a body of water. They are spending time and resources to find Jesus. If you were to measure their spiritual temperature by their activity, you might conclude they were red hot disciples. But they are not. Their zeal is entirely misplaced. It is a zeal born of appetite. They are not seeking a Savior to forgive their sins; they are seeking a caterer to provide their lunch.
John makes the point with a subtle but powerful parenthetical comment. The boats came from Tiberias, near "the place where they ate the bread after the Lord had given thanks." Their entire orientation is defined by the miracle of the bread. That was the event. That was the thing that mattered. The thanksgiving of the Lord, the blessing He gave, was simply the prelude to the meal. They remember the location by the food they received there. This is the essence of what we might call "gospel consumerism." It views God's grace as a product to be consumed, rather than a Person to be worshipped. They are fans of Jesus's power, but they are not followers of His person.
A Question of Logistics, Not Lordship (v. 25)
Their search is successful. They find Jesus in Capernaum, and their first question reveals everything about the state of their hearts.
"And when they found Him on the other side of the sea, they said to Him, 'Rabbi, when did You come here?'" (John 6:25 LSB)
They find the one who had walked on the water, the one who had defied the laws of physics and nature to cross the sea in the midst of a storm. And what is their burning question? It is not, "Who are you?" It is not, "What must we do to be saved?" It is not, "Teach us, Lord." It is a question of logistics. "Rabbi, when did you get here?" Or, more accurately, "How did you get here?"
They are still stuck on the puzzle. They have their facts lined up: one boat, disciples leave, Jesus stays behind. And now, here He is. It doesn't add up. Their minds are occupied with the mechanics of the situation, not the majesty of the person before them. They are so focused on the how that they have completely missed the Who. They had just witnessed a miracle of creation, feeding the five thousand, and now they are confronted with the reality of another miracle, the walking on water, and their response is to treat Jesus like a magician whose trick they want to figure out.
They call him "Rabbi," which means "teacher." It is a term of respect, but it falls far short of worship. They see Him as a great man, a powerful man, a man who can do amazing things and perhaps teach them a few things. But they do not see Him as the Son of God, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Their question is entirely horizontal. It is a man-to-man question. There is no awe, no reverence, no sense of having come face to face with the living God.
This is the great peril of a sign-seeking faith. It is always looking for the next trick, the next spectacle. It is entertained by God, but it is not humbled before Him. It wants to understand the process, to get behind the curtain, to figure out how God does what He does. But true faith does not demand to know how. True faith bows before the one who does it and confesses, "My Lord and my God." Jesus will not answer their logistical question. He knows it is a smokescreen. Instead, He will go straight to the heart of the matter, exposing the true, idolatrous motive that drove them across the sea: their bellies.
Conclusion: Are You Seeking the Giver or the Gifts?
This brief narrative is a powerful diagnostic tool for our own hearts. It is a mirror held up to the modern church, which is shot through with this same consumeristic spirit. We have a great industry of Christian self-help that promises a better life, a happier marriage, more successful kids, and a less stressful existence if you just add a little Jesus to your routine. Jesus is marketed as a solution to our felt needs, a way to get the things we already wanted before we ever thought about Him.
But the gospel is not a self-improvement program. Jesus did not come to make us a slightly better version of our old selves. He came to kill our old selves and raise us to a completely new life. He did not come to give us bread that perishes; He came to be the bread that gives eternal life.
The crowd was diligent. They were energetic. They were seeking Jesus. But their search was idolatry from start to finish because the object of their search was not Jesus Himself, but what they could get from Him. They wanted a king who would keep the free food coming. They wanted a political messiah who would solve their earthly problems. They did not want a Savior who would demand that they deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him.
And so the question comes to us. Why are we here? Why do we come to church? Why do we read our Bibles? Why do we pray? Are we seeking Jesus for the benefits package? Are we looking for a cosmic problem-solver? Or are we seeking Him for Himself? Do we hunger and thirst for righteousness, or just for the loaves and fishes?
Jesus is about to turn this crowd away with some of the hardest teaching in all of Scripture. He is going to offend their sensibilities, dash their hopes of a free lunch, and demand a faith that feeds on His very flesh and blood. And we are told that after this, many of His disciples turned back and no longer walked with Him. The sifting is coming. May God grant us the grace to be those who stay, not because our bellies are full, but because we have come to know that He, and He alone, has the words of eternal life.