"I think he's speaking in metaphors," Stephen said.

"I don't care if he's speaking in Chicago, he's getting downright spooky," replied Andrew, not one of the twelve.

Jesus had been speaking for what seemed to be days to a crowd made up of his disciples, hundreds of them, as well as his twelve nearest and dearest disciples. Bread, bread, and bread... it was all he seemed to be talking about. It was enough to make a person hungry. They all knew stories about how God provided for his people who had escaped slavery in Egypt and were in the desert making their way to a land that God promised them. They knew about God giving them bread from heaven. Manna, they called it. Which, by the way, was their word for "what is it?" For those wanderers didn't know what that white, crumbly stuff was that …