What Does a Bread Machine Teach Us About Worship?

I enjoy using my bread machine. There’s something quietly satisfying about pouring in the ingredients, closing the lid, and letting it do its work. A little flour, some water, sugar, a packet of yeast—and before long, the whole loaf begins to change. That small amount of yeast works its way through everything. You don’t see it happening, but there is no way you can miss the results.

That experience has helped me think more carefully about a conversation I had with a friend who said it didn’t really matter whether the bread used in Communion was leavened or not. On one level, I understand the sentiment. God cares about the heart, not the recipe. But Scripture also shows us that God teaches through symbols—and when it comes to leaven, the Bible is remarkably consistent. And—if you’ve ever watched yeast do its work in making bread, that consistency starts to make a lot of sense.

Leaven:  Small, Hidden, Powerful

Anyone who bakes knows this simple truth:  it doesn’t take much yeast. A teaspoon is enough to affect the entire loaf. Once it’s in the dough, there’s no isolating it. It spreads, transforms, and reshapes everything.

That’s exactly why the Bible so often uses leaven as a teaching tool.

Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 5:6:  “Don’t you know that a little yeast leavens the whole batch of dough?”

He repeats the same idea in Galatians 5:9, showing that this was a well-understood image in the first-century world. Leaven was a perfect picture of influence—especially the kind that works quietly and thoroughly.

Leaven and the Old Life

When God brought Israel out of Egypt, He gave them a command that seems strange to modern ears:  “For seven days you are to eat bread made without yeast. On the first day remove the yeast from your houses, for whoever eats anything with yeast in it from the first day through the seventh must be cut off from Israel.” - Exodus 12:15

Leaven had to be removed entirely from their homes. Why? Because Egypt represented bondage, sin, and the old life. Leaving leaven behind symbolized leaving that life behind as well.

Moses later explained in Deuteronomy 16:3:  “Do not eat it with bread made with yeast, but for seven days eat unleavened bread, the bread of affliction, because you left Egypt in haste—so that all the days of your life you may remember the time of your departure from Egypt.” In other words, the bread itself told the story.

And in Israel’s worship, leaven was deliberately excluded from certain offerings:  “Every grain offering you bring to the Lord must be made without yeast, for you are not to burn any yeast or honey in a food offering presented to the Lord.” - Leviticus 2:11

God was teaching His people that corruption—no matter how small—had no place in sacrifices offered to Him.

Jesus, Leaven, and Influence

Jesus picked up this same image and applied it to spiritual life. “Be careful,” Jesus said to them. “Be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” - Matthew 16:6

At first, the disciples thought He was talking about bread. But Jesus clarified:  “But be on your guard against the yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees” - Matthew 16:11b

False ideas, hypocrisy, and pride spread just like yeast in dough—slowly, subtly, but completely.

To be fair, Jesus also used leaven in a positive sense (Matthew 13:33), where it represents the growth of God’s kingdom. So leaven itself isn’t evil. It’s symbolic. Context matters.

And when it comes to sacrifice, remembrance, and holiness, the Bible overwhelmingly treats leaven as something to be removed.

The Bread on the Table

When Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper, He did so during the Passover:  ”On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?’” - Matthew 26:17

That detail matters. The bread on that table wasn’t leavened—it couldn’t be. And it was that bread Jesus held when 

He said:  “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” - Luke 22:19

Later, Paul draws the connection even tighter:  “Get rid of the old yeast, so that you may be a new unleavened batch—as you really are. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. Therefore let us keep the Festival, not with the old bread leavened with malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. -      1 Corinthians 5:7–8

Paul doesn’t treat this as accidental symbolism. He treats it as intentional teaching.

Back to the Bread Machine

Here’s where my bread machine comes back into the picture. When I want a light, risen loaf, yeast is essential. But if I want flatbread or unleavened bread, yeast doesn’t just not help—it defeats the whole purpose. The absence of yeast is the point.

That’s what makes unleavened bread such a powerful symbol in Communion. It isn’t just bread without something in it. It’s bread that intentionally lacks corruption, spread, and fermentation.

In the Lord’s Supper, we remember a sinless Savior:  “He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.” - 1 Peter 2:22. Unleavened bread quietly proclaims that truth.

Does It Make a Difference?

If someone unknowingly uses leavened bread with a sincere heart? Well, we may have to let God’s grace and mercy decide. But if we’re asking whether symbolism matters—whether God’s teaching tools deserve careful attention—the Bible gently urges us to say yes.

Communion is a proclamation:  “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” - 1 Corinthians 11:26. The symbols preach. And the bread Jesus chose tells a story of purity, sacrifice, and a clean break from the old life.

A Gentle Conclusion

This isn’t about legalism. It’s about listening carefully to what God has been saying all along.

Every time I use my bread machine, I’m reminded how powerful yeast is—and how fitting it is that God used something so ordinary to teach something so profound. In the Lord’s Supper, the absence of leaven speaks just as loudly as its presence ever could.

And sometimes, the quietest symbols teach us the most about the holiness of the One we worship.

A Garden and a Grave

 (A Communion Table Talk)

This morning, I want to take you to two places that hold deep meaning in the story of our salvation:  a garden . . . and a grave.

The two don’t seem like they go together.  A garden is where things grow.  A grave is where things end.  But in the story of Jesus, they’re both central — and they both tell the truth of the gospel.

The Garden

Let’s begin in the garden.

In Luke 22:39–44, we find Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. It's night. The cross is just hours away. And the weight of the world — literally — is pressing down on Him.

Luke tells us:  “Being in anguish, He prayed more earnestly, and His sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.” (v. 44)

This was no peaceful stroll. This garden was not blooming with roses — it was heavy with the cost of our redemption. In that moment, Jesus wrestled with the terrifying reality of the cross.

And what does He pray?  “Father, if You are willing, take this cup from Me. Yet not My will, but Yours be done.” (v. 42)

That’s where salvation began for us — not at the cross, but here — in a garden — where the Son of God said “yes” to the will of the Father.

Jesus didn’t just die for us — He chose to die for us.

The Grave

Then came the grave.

John 19 tells us that after the mock trial, the crown of thorns, the cross, and the final cry, “It is finished” — Jesus’ body was taken down, wrapped in linen, and laid in a tomb.

A borrowed grave — Cold — Sealed with a stone.

From the outside, it looked like the end.  But from heaven’s view — it was the planting of a seed.

Jesus had said in John 12:24:  “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

Jesus was that seed.  The grave was not defeat.  It was the doorway to resurrection.

In that tomb, the Author of Life rewrote the story of death.

The Table

So here we are, gathered around this table — surrounded by reminders:  

The bread — His body

The cup — His blood.  

Each symbol calls us to remember what happened in that garden . . . and what happened in that grave.

In the garden — Jesus gave His will.

In the grave — He gave His life.

And because of both — we are given hope.

Romans 5:8 says:  “But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

So today, as we take this bread and cup…

Look back to the garden — where love surrendered.

Look back to the cross — where love suffered.

Look back to the grave — where love was buried — and from which it rose again.

And then — look forward.

Because Jesus didn’t just rise — He promised to return.  

1 Corinthians 11:26 reminds us that every time we eat this bread and drink this cup, we proclaim His death until He comes.

Let’s use this moment to take in . . . 

The garden,

the grave,

and the glory of the One who walked through both — for us.