Have you ever endorsed something that you didn’t actually know that much about? Maybe it was a product or a restaurant, and then you find out later that it’s not what you thought or how you remembered it. For instance, you remember watching a movie when you were younger—maybe on TV when they would edit inappropriate scenes or replace bad words—then you see the movie is streaming somewhere, and you say, “Oh! This is great! Let’s watch it! You’ll love it!” So you get your preschool aged nieces and your grandmother to the living room, and you start it up only to find out that it is in no way appropriate for this audience and you feel so foolish to have recommended it to everybody. In the end, you didn’t really know the movie, either because you only saw the edited version that the network wanted you to see or because your memory just isn’t all that reliable.   This is what I’ve been considering as I try to live a life dedicated to tell others about Jesus. But before I can really do this, I have to ask myself if I really know who Jesus is. And the best way to do this is to find out who Jesus said He was. While He walked on the earth, He was constantly being asked that very question. He even put it to His disciples: “Who do people say I am?” and they gave a variety of answers. So I don’t think He’ll be offended if we ask Him the same question: Jesus, who are you?   I’m starting my quest to find out who Jesus says He is in John 6. At this point in His ministry, Jesus has fed more than 5,000 people with just five loaves of bread and two fish. His fame is spreading, so the crowds of people are searching for him. They finally track Him down in verse 25. Jesus tells them, “You are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill. Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.” They want real food—bread they can hold and eat and digest, but then what? They reference the manna God provided for their ancestors in the wilderness, but they still don’t get it. All they can see is their immediate hunger.   Then in verse 35, Jesus lets them in on the biggest secret since God told Adam and Eve not to eat that one particular tree in the garden. Jesus says, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Not only does He have the bread, He is the bread. “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died,” Jesus continues. “But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” Jesus is preparing their minds for the upcoming Passover meal by proposing something that is nearly unthinkable—He’s offering himself as the perfect, unblemished lamb to be sacrificed.   He tells them, “…the one who feeds on me will live because of me… Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.”  The one who feeds on me will live. This sounds gruesome, and it was probably shocking to the people listening, but it makes me ask myself: Where does my nourishment come from? The manna that God gave the Israelites was a temporary solution. They weren’t even allowed to gather extra (with the exception of the day before the Sabbath so they could have a work-free day once a week), otherwise the manna would rot and it would be full of maggots. But there’s no such thing as gathering too much of Jesus! He is the bread of Life that never spoils. He feeds our eternal souls.