I wonder what it was like to sit on those green hills and listen to those strange words falling from the prophet’s lips. Did those words hit their hearts like thunder? Would a tremble have gone across their limbs as they heard this man say that he had come from heaven and was indeed the bread that would grant them life eternal? I wonder if I too would have been more focused on the fish and bread I was munching on than on the face of the man that stood before me with hands outstretched. I wonder if my thoughts too would have narrowed on the potential of this man being a revolutionary king that would be the pivot point upon which my fortunes would turn. Or would I have had the wisdom to see that perhaps there was more to this man and that I only needed to sit at his feet and listen? I would love to say that I would have been echoing the words of the one brash young man who declaimed his loyalty and been no less shy at admitting my lack of other options as I recognized that eternal life came from the strange words falling from the prophet’s lips. Perhaps? It is hard for me to say for that is not my story.

What can I say now though? I do believe this prophet’s words and I recognize a calling that has been issued that I cannot help but follow. A flame burns upon my brow and my clothes drip water from the sacred fount. I sit and eat this bread and drink this wine and look up to the tree that is stained in my Savior’s blood. Father my Father, I come. Spirit oh Spirit, I come. Jesus, I come.