Home for Supper

Wanda Hendrickson

READ : John 6:35-40

Each year the birds return to the same hanging basket on our porch. It’s home, their place to nest. They sing in the morning and in a few weeks we hear the trembling peep of the newly hatched young. Mother bird spends most of her day foraging for food to take home to fill the open mouths. It’s always suppertime in her nest home.

There is something synonymous about home and food. As a child, I could hear dad or mom calling me home for supper. I came running in response! Home meant food, love, safety. A dear family friend had a favorite song: “Come Home, It’s Suppertime!” Years later I discovered he had other meanings than my childlike ones. He had some wishful thinking about his childhood home. And, much as he loved his family now, he also was thinking about Jesus’ gra- cious invitation to be filled with the Bread of Life. He thought about another home, safe, secure and eternal. One day Mr. Slotsema went home, at suppertime, quickly, quietly and surely.

Jesus looked over the city of Jerusalem, and sighed a prayer of longing. “O Jerusalem . . . how often I would have gathered you as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings” (see Matt. 23:37). The nurturing Savior still offers Himself. Respond to His invitation and come home to Him.


Bread of Life, we hear you say: Come home, Come home. It’s suppertime. Jesus, we come. In Your name. Amen.