In John chapter 6, Jesus begins to say things that unsettle the crown and challenge everything they assume about faith, belief, and control. Which started as a search for bread becomes a confrontation of the human heart, exposing our tendency to work for life instead of receiving it. In today's episode, we slow down and listen carefully as Jesus declares himself to be the bread of life and explains why seeing him is not the same as believing in him. These verses force us to ask a deeper question: where does faith actually come from? And why do some believe while others, standing in the same crowd, do not? Join Pastor Harry Barens as he walks through these verses and helps us to see how Jesus anchors belief not in human effort, but in the work of God, and why that truth changes everything. Here's Pastor Harry with today's message.

In today's message, we're going to be looking at John chapter 6, verses 35 through 37, a passage where Jesus moves from exposing the human heart to unveiling himself as the only source of true life. In this section, Jesus confronts our deepest instincts for self-preservation, self-sufficiency, and self-salvation. And he presses us toward a truth modern Christianity often avoids. Following him does not begin with improvement, but with death, death to self, so that real life can begin. In our last episode, we watched Jesus bring the crowd to a breaking point. They chased him across the sea, not because they had seen who he was, but because they had tasted what he could give. And when Jesus exposed that, when he told them they were seeking him for bread, not belief, their instinctive response was the same instinct that has lived in the human heart since the beginning. Then tell us what to do. That question revealed everything. They weren't asking how to know God, they were asking how to manage life. They wanted a system, a method, a way to secure blessing without surrender. And Jesus shattered that framework with one sentence. In other words, life with God does not begin with your effort. It begins where your effort ends. And the crowd understood exactly what he meant, because their very next response was to demand another sign. If belief is God's work, then they wanted proof that God was at work in Jesus. So they reached back into their history and pointed to manna in the wilderness, bread from heaven, daily provision, survival without trust. That's where today's passage begins. Because in John 6 35, Jesus takes everything they think they understood about bread, hunger, thirst, life, and survival, and he pulls it all into himself. He doesn't explain a doctrine, he doesn't offer a system, he doesn't give them steps, he makes a claim. He says, I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. To us, that can sound familiar, even gentle, but to them, this was seismic. Bread was survival, hunger was vulnerability, thirst was death drawing near. And Jesus takes those deepest human fears and says, That ache in you, that craving to secure your own life, says, that is pointing to me. He is not promising to improve their lives, he is calling them to abandon the life they are trying to sustain and receive a life only He can give. So as we step into this verse today, I want you to do something with me. I want you to stop listening like a modern Christian who knows how the story ends. And instead step into the sandals of a crowd that is hungry, restless, anxious, and desperately trying to hold life together. Because what Jesus is about to say doesn't just explain belief, it confronts the very way we try to live. So now let's read John 6.35 together. It says, Jesus said to them, I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. Now before Jesus ever explains bread, hunger, or life, he does something far more important. He identifies who is speaking. Now in English, this sounds normal to us. I am the bread of life. But in Greek, this sentence carries a weight we don't naturally hear. Here's the simple idea. In Greek, you do not need to say the word I to say I am. The verb already includes it. So a normal teacher would simply say something like, The bread of life is given by God, or even bread of life comes from God. That would have been clear, that would have been acceptable, and that would have been safe. But Jesus doesn't speak that way. Instead, he deliberately adds the word I anyway. So what he actually says is closer to this. I, I am the bread of life. Not stuttering, not awkward, not poetic, intentional. He is emphasizing identity, not just information. There is a massive difference between these two statements. An ordinary teacher would say the bread of life comes from God. Jesus says, I am the bread of life. One points to God, the other stands in God's place. And that distinction changes everything because Jesus is not offering something God gives. He is offering himself as the source of life. So before we talk about bread, hunger, or thirst, we need to understand this. Jesus is not explaining life. And if that is true, if the one speaking is the source of life itself, then the words he chooses next are not accidental. They are deliberate. They are aimed directly at the deepest instincts of the human heart. Because Jesus doesn't start with theology, he starts with need. He speaks in the language of hunger, of thirst, of survival. And to us, those words can sound abstract, symbolic, or overly spiritual. But to the people standing in front of him that day, this was anything but abstract. To them, bread was not a metaphor, it was life. So to understand what Jesus is doing here, we have to step into their world, into their bodies, their fears, and their daily reality. Now, in the first century world, bread was not a side item. It was not an option. It was the foundation of daily existence. Everything flowed from it. If you had bread, you lived. If you didn't, you starved. Most of the people listening to Jesus lived one day at a time. There was no savings accounts, no refrigeration, no stocked pantries, no safety net. If you ate today, it was because you found food today. If you didn't, tomorrow was uncertain. Hunger wasn't theoretical, it was always near. And thirst was even more dangerous. In the ancient world, thirst meant death came faster than hunger. So when Jesus speaks about hunger and thirst, he's not using religious imagery here. He is touching the deepest human fear they know. How will I survive? How will I make it? How do I keep myself alive? And here's where this lands closer to home than we might expect. Most people today still live this way, just dressed up differently. We may have refrigerators and bank accounts, but we still wake up thinking, how do I secure my future? How do I protect what I have? How do I make sure I'm okay? We manage, we plan, we work, and we worry. The form has changed, but the fear hasn't. It's the same instinct Jesus is addressing the drive to sustain ourselves, protect ourselves, and keep life in our own hands. So when Jesus talks about hunger and thirst, he's not only speaking to their stomachs, he's speaking to the place in every human heart that asks, How do I stay alive? And that's exactly the place he's about to confront. This is not about cravings. This is about existence. That's why verse 26 matters so much. The crowd was not wicked, but they were afraid. They wanted Jesus because he had proven, he had proven he could keep them alive. Jesus does not deny their hunger, he redefines it. When Jesus says, I am the bread of life, he's not saying, I give bread, I teach about bread, and I show you where bread comes from. He is saying, I am what you are using bread for. Bread was how they sustain their life, and Jesus says, He is the sustainer. Bread was how they avoided death. Jesus says, He is the source of life. And crucially, this comes after he has already told them to stop working for perishing food. In other words, the life you are trying to protect with bread is the life that must die. The life you need can only come from me. This is not comfort language. This is confrontation. Now the word comes does not mean casual movement. In Jewish thought, coming to someone meant attaching yourself to them, submitting to their authority, placing yourself under their teaching, and trusting your life to their care. To come to Jesus meant I stop sustaining myself and place my life under you. This is why Jesus pairs coming with believing. Coming is not walking closer. Believing is not agreeing intellectually. Both are acts of dependence. To come to Jesus is to say, I will no longer be the source of my own life. That is why this language is threatening to the crowd. They're not being invited to add Jesus to their lives. They are being invited to abandon the life they are managing. Jesus is not saying, you'll never feel need again, you'll never suffer, you'll never struggle. He is saying something far deeper. Hunger and thirst represent self-driven survival. The hunger that never ends is I must secure myself. The thirst that never stops is I must protect my own life. And Jesus is saying, when you come to me, the endless cycle of self-preservation, it ends. It stops. Not because life becomes easy, but because life is no longer sourced from you. This is resurrection language before the cross. Now notice how Jesus equates coming with not hungering and believing with not thirsting. In other words, belief is not mental agreement. Belief is consumption. Just as bread becomes part of you, faith is receiving his life as your own. And this sets up everything that follows in John 6: Eating His flesh, drinking his blood, life coming only through his death. He is preparing them and us for the truth that life only comes through brokenness. Bread must be broken to be eaten. Grain must die to bear fruit. Christ must die to give life, and we must die to receive him. John 6, 35 is where the crowd's survival instinct collides with Jesus' gospel. Religion meets resurrection. Self-sustaining life meets death to self. From this point on, the crowd will struggle more and more because Jesus is no longer offering provision, he is offering replacement. Not let me help you live, but let me become your life. And that is why many will walk away. When Jesus says, I am the bread of life, he is not offering to improve their lives. He is telling them the life they are trying to save must die. And from this point on in John 6, everything Jesus says will force that issue. In verse 36, it says, But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe. This sentence only makes sense if we keep verse 29 in our ears. This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent. Jesus has already defined belief for us. That definition governs everything that follows. Now most readers instinctively hear verse 36 like this. That sounds natural to modern ears. It fits a free will assumption we already carry into the text. But that is not how Jesus has framed belief in this conversation. If belief were merely a human choice, then verse 29 makes no sense at all. Jesus would have said something like, This is the work God wants from you to believe. But he didn't say that. That matters enormously. So by the time we reach verse 36, Jesus is not confronting their willpower. He is confronting something deeper. The word seen here does not mean glanced at. This echoes something John has already taught us earlier in the gospel, back in chapter 1, verses 10 to 11, where he said, He was in the world and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. Seeing is not the problem. Information is not the problem. Exposure is not the problem. The problem is ability. He is saying you do not believe. Why? Because belief, as he already defined it, is God's work. So verse 36 is not an accusation of stubborn will, it is a diagnosis, diagnosis of spiritual condition. In plain terms, Jesus is saying this you've seen everything there is to see, but belief has not been worked in you. Let me say that again. He is saying, you've seen everything there is to see, but belief has not been worked in you. That is why the miracles didn't convert them. That is why the bread didn't awaken faith. That is why their questions keep circling back to signs. They are looking for something belief cannot come from. This shatters the idea that more evidence produces faith, that better arguments create belief, that miracles guarantee conversion, and that choice alone explains unbelief. Jesus is saying the opposite. If God has not yet done the work that He alone does. Not because you haven't decided yet, not because you need more evidence, but because belief itself has not been worked in you by God. And if you're sitting there thinking, why have I never heard this explained this way before? Or why does this feel sharper, heavier, more unsettling than I expected? Well, you're not alone. That reaction is exactly why this verse is often softened, rushed past, or skipped altogether. Before we move forward, we need to pause for just a moment and ask why. This verse confronts something deeply uncomfortable in us. If belief is God's work, then faith is not a personal achievement. Conversion is not self-generated. Salvation cannot be managed, predicted, or controlled. That reality strips away pride. It dismantles self made religion and it leaves no room for boasting. So instead of letting verse 36 speak on its own terms, it's often reframed as a choice problem because that feels safer. Choice keeps control in human hands, choice preserves the illusion. Of independence. But Jesus will not allow that framing here. He doesn't say you haven't decided yet. He says you do not believe, not as an insult, not as a condemnation, but as diagnosis. And John doesn't soften it either, because the shock is part of the mercy. Jesus is tearing down false confidence before he builds true assurance. Now, with that clarity in place, Jesus moves forward, not to despair them, but to explain who does believe and why. And that's where the next verses take us. The gut level truth Jesus is revealing. Put simply, verse 36 is Jesus saying, You think belief comes from seeing. I'm telling you, belief comes from God. And that is why you've seen and still do not believe. This is not cruelty, it's clarity. And it sets up the next movement of the passage where Jesus will explain who actually does believe and why. Now listen carefully to what Jesus says next, because this is one of the most weighty and confronting sentences in all of Scripture. Jesus says, All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. This is not a change of subject. This is the explanation. Jesus has just said that belief is the work of God. Now he explains what that work looks like when it shows up in real people, in real time, in real life. All that the Father gives me. That phrase alone would have stopped the crowd cold. Jesus does not say, all who choose me. He doesn't say all who decide correctly. He does not say all who respond wisely. He says, all that the Father gives me. In other words, belief does not begin with human initiative. It begins with divine action. Faith is not something people manufacture it, it's something God gives. This is why verse 36 exists. They have seen Jesus and do not believe because belief does not come from sight alone. It comes from the Father's work. And notice what Jesus says next. All that the Father gives me will come to me, not might come to me, not could come to me, not have the opportunity to come, will come. This is certainty, not probability. Jesus is not describing a fragile possibility that depends on human follow-through. He is describing a guaranteed outcome rooted in the will of God. Everyone the Father gives to the Son will come to the Son. This is not coercion. This is resurrection. God does not drag people against their will. He gives new desires, new sight, new hunger, new trust. This is not a new idea introduced later by Paul. It is the same truth Jesus is teaching here. Scripture says plainly in Romans 12.3, God has allotted to each a measure of faith. Faith is not something we generate and then offer to God. It is something God assigns, awakens, and gives. Paul says the same thing even more directly in Philippians 1.29, where he says, For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him, but also suffer for his sake. Belief itself is something granted. And again, in Ephesians chapter 2, verses 8 to 9, he says again, for by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing. It is the gift of God. Even the faith through which we are saved is described as a gift, not a contribution. So when Jesus says, All that the Father gives me will come to me, he is not speculating. He is stating a certainty grounded in how God works. When the Father gives faith, the Son receives the person. And that coming is a real, willing, and wholehearted as any human response could be, because God has already awakened the heart. But then Jesus immediately adds something that is just as important. And whoever comes to me, I will never cast out. This is where his words turned from confrontation to comfort. Jesus has just stripped away all human boasting. No one, no one can claim they believed because they were smarter, better, or more spiritual. Faith is God's work from beginning to end. But now He removes fear. Whoever comes, no matter how weak, how broken, how confused, how late, how unworthy, will not be rejected. This matters. Because some people hear God's sovereignty and assume distance. Jesus uses it to guarantee welcome. If you come to Him, you will not be cast out. Not because your faith is strong, but because His grip is. What Jesus is doing here is holding two truths together that we are always tempted to separate. Belief is entirely the work of God, and everyone who comes to Christ is truly received.

No boasting for the proud, no despair for the broken. This is the heart of the gospel. Faith begins in heaven, but it always arrives on earth.

It is given by the Father, revealed in the Son, and experienced as real trust, real coming, and real resting. And now Jesus will go even deeper. Because if the Father gives people to the Son, and if the Son receives all who come, then the next question is unavoidable. Can any of them be lost? That is exactly where Jesus is taking us next. But before we move forward, I want to gently address a tension you may be feeling right now. Because if you're feeling it, you're not alone. Many of us come to these verses with presuppositions. We didn't choose for ourselves. We were taught it. We inherited it. And that presupposition is simple. Faith must ultimately come from us. So when Jesus speaks the way he does here, something feels off. Not because the words are unclear, but because they don't fit the framework we've always used. To make this passage fit a free will, first understanding, something has to give. Either give can't really mean give, or will come can't really mean will come. The certainty Jesus speaks with has to be softened because the presupposition demands it. But Jesus doesn't speak hypothetically here. He doesn't say might come or could come, he says will come. And he grounds that certainty not in human decision, but in the Father's action. That's why this may sound unfamiliar to you. Not because you haven't read these verses before, but because you were taught to read them through a lens that was already decided long before text was ever opened. Jesus is not removing responsibility. He is explaining reality. He's telling us why some believe and others, standing in the same crowd, seeing the same Jesus, do not. He is not diminishing faith. He's magnifying grace. And that is exactly where Jesus takes us. In the verses that follow, he will explain why he came down from heaven at all. Not to observe the Father's will, not to assist it, but to accomplish it fully. What the Father gives, the Son secures. What the Father begins, the Son finishes. What grace awakens, Christ preserves. That's where we're going to go next time. And when we do, you'll see that everything Jesus has said here is not meant to confuse the heart, but to quiet it so that faith can finally rest not in itself, but in him. Let's pray. Father, thank you for the clarity of your word. Thank you for a truth that humbles us, steadies us, and draws us out of ourselves. Teach us to stop trusting in our strength and our choices and our resolve and to rest in your work instead. If we have come to Christ, let us see it as grace from beginning to end. And our hearts are stirred today. Let us recognize that you are already at work. And as we continue through this chapter, Lord, prepare us to see not only who you are, but why you came and what you came to accomplish. We ask this in your name, Jesus. Amen. As always, I want to thank you for joining us today. And I hope this message has helped you take a step closer in your relationship with Jesus and that you now have a deeper understanding of just how much God loves you and wants you to know Him. Now, before we go, I want to leave you with one simple invitation. If there's ever a question on your heart, a passage you'd like explored, or something in today's message that served you, you're always welcome to reach out through the text us link in the episode description. It's our desire that this ministry be a tool to reach the lost and equip the saints for a life that brings glory to God. God bless, and we'll see you next time on the takeaway.