Our readings this week are Ephesians 4.25 – 5.2 and John 6.35, 41–51.  

The Ephesians passage is truly beautiful—it's an honest exposé of the fact that the Church is a hospital for sinners, not a hotel for saints. I adore the fact that not only were there people in the early Church who thought that living a Christian life was compatible with a life of crime, but that they were so blatant in it that Paul (or whoever the author was) could write so bluntly, "Thieves must give up stealing!" 

It's a wonderful reminder that sometimes the things we take as obvious, or even fundamental, moral truths are not necessarily universal. It's also a powerful reminder that those who gather in the pews around us are just as flawed and subject to failure as we are.  Perhaps when Ob-Wan said, 'You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy,' he'd never been to a church.

I'm willing to extend the benefit of the doubt and assume we're not full of thieves—but surely all of us, at one time or another (more often than perhaps we'd like to admit), have to hold our hands up to evil talk, bitterness, wrath, anger, wrangling, slander, and malice? There's no shame in admitting it—in fact, like in many situations, admitting it is the first step to overcoming it. Those moments of recognizing our failings, feeling them, and acknowledging we're stuck in them without the help of God have been treasured by believers through the ages. They're known as moments of compunction and are often the springboard to renewed faith or new ways of being.

Of course, I don't want us beating ourselves up about who we are—so perhaps a more gentle approach might be to take the opposite list from Ephesians and ask ourselves if we're doing all we can to live up to it and live it out: "Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, being imitators of God, and living in love."

It's a big ask, and, as I said, it's not something we're going to manage in our own power, but only by consistently drawing strength from God to be the people He creates us to be. Perhaps that's why He describes Himself as bread—a necessary daily staple to keep us whole, healthy, and fulfilled.

It's not the bread, though, that I want to pull out of the Gospel reading in this moment; it's that other line from Jesus: "Do not complain among yourselves." What an instruction! I believe it brings us full circle to where we began—in acknowledging that we're all carrying our burdens, our failures, and our mistakes. The Church is, by its very nature, full not of people who are perfect, but of those who know themselves to be in need of perfection—who rely on each other to build one another up, not tear each other down. So let's be gentle with one another; let's not complain, but offer support; let's not nit-pick for problems, but seek solutions. Let's pray together, forgive together, and grow together.

And if you are a thief—stop it!