In the older days, before the supermarket shelves stacked with uniform loaves and before the gleam of automated ovens, the village baker was a central figure in daily life. His work wasn’t glamorous. It was slow, deliberate, and humble. Each morning, while the village still slumbered, he would light his ovens, mix his dough, and prepare what would feed his community for the day.
But the baker’s craft was more than just flour and fire—it was an act of service, almost sacred in its responsibility. The tradition in many places was simple: the baker made three kinds of bread.
The first was white bread—soft, airy, and made from the finest, most carefully milled flour. This was for the rich and the elites of the village, those who could afford to pay well.
The second was a medium bread—denser, darker, made from a blend of flours. It was hearty and sustaining, the bread of the working class, the laborers who toiled in fields and workshops.
The third was hard bread—made from the leftover grains, the roughest flour, the bits and pieces that couldn’t be used for anything else. It was tough, but nourishing. And it was cheap—so cheap that even the poorest could afford it.
This system ensured something beautiful: everyone in the village had bread. Not all had the same kind, but all were fed. There was no house where a child would go to bed hungry for lack of a loaf. The baker knew his role and the village trusted him to fulfill it. It wasn’t optional—it was a commitment. And he kept it every day.
That’s why he wasn’t just a tradesman—he was a cornerstone of the community. His oven was a symbol of care, stability, and provision. The poor respected him for thinking of them. The rich respected him for serving them with excellence. And the whole village was bound together by the daily, ordinary, yet profound work of the baker.
Paul’s Heart: All Things to All People
This picture of the baker’s commitment reminds me of Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 9:22:
“I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some.”
Paul didn’t say, “I have chosen my preferred group and will stick with them.” He didn’t create a ministry “niche.” He didn’t avoid people who made him uncomfortable. He stretched himself to meet people where they were—whether Jew or Gentile, slave or free, rich or poor.
Paul understood something essential about the Kingdom of God—it is for everyone. The Gospel is not a luxury item for the religious elite, nor a cheap commodity for the desperate. It is the Bread of Life, and Jesus offers it without partiality.
When Paul adapted to the people around him, he wasn’t diluting the truth. He was ensuring that nothing about his manner, preferences, or personal comfort would become a barrier to someone hearing and receiving the Good News. In essence, he was making three loaves, so to speak—presenting the Gospel in ways each “group” could receive.
The Modern Church’s Temptation
And yet, if we look at many churches today, something feels… off. Instead of being like the baker—providing bread for everyone—many congregations subtly (or openly) choose who they cater to.
Some proudly say, “We’re a family church,” but by that they mean families with young children and good incomes. Older widows, single men, single women, struggling mothers—they often feel invisible. The men’s church, the women’s church, the youth group, the missions group – all cater to the able and healthy, the rich, the confident and the affluent. Did Jesus came to serve only these people? The church was created as a body to edify, and to comfort. Edify those who are discouraged. Comfort those who are hurting.
Some focus their energy only on attracting the wealthy, hosting elaborate banquets and preaching messages that make the affluent feel affirmed. They speak much about giving to “missions,” but the local poor are never invited to the table. And when we ask where the mission money really goes, the answer is often vague or troubling. Others go the opposite way—serving only the marginalized, but with such suspicion toward the wealthy that they forget God’s Kingdom is meant to include all.
In all these cases, the church stops functioning like the village baker. Instead of serving every soul in town, they set the menu based on who they want to see in the pews.
God’s Plan for His Church
But God’s vision for His church is radically inclusive—not in the modern watered-down sense, but in the holy, family-of-God sense.
In His Kingdom, the same spiritual bread is offered to all:
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Those who can afford to give much—they are welcome, and their generosity can fuel ministry beyond what others can imagine.
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Those who can give little or nothing—they are just as welcome, and the church’s provision for them is not charity but family duty.
In Acts 4:34-35 we read: “There were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those who owned land or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales and put it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to anyone who had need.”
That’s God’s design: a community where everyone belongs, everyone contributes in whatever way they can, and everyone receives according to their need. The rich and the poor, the young and the old, the strong and the weak—all in one fellowship, all receiving from the same spiritual oven.
What Happens When the Church Acts Like the Baker
When a church truly commits to being like that village baker, several beautiful things happen:
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No One Feels Out of Place
In too many churches, people walk in and immediately feel they don’t “fit.” But when the church intentionally serves all kinds of people, the welcome is real. A homeless man can sit next to a CEO, and neither feels superior or inferior—they feel like brothers. -
Giving Becomes Joy, Not Obligation
When wealthier members see that their offerings go directly to meeting real needs, giving is no longer just writing a check—it’s investing in the family. -
The Gospel Gains Credibility
The world is quick to accuse the church of favoritism, hypocrisy, and greed. But when a church truly meets needs without discrimination, it becomes a living testimony that the love of Jesus is real. -
Spiritual Health Flourishes
A church that serves all is constantly reminded of its dependence on God, not its own marketing strategy. There’s less pride, more prayer, and more power.
A Final Word
The village baker didn’t wake up each morning deciding who was “worthy” of bread. He baked for the whole village, because he knew hunger doesn’t discriminate.
The same is true for the spiritual hunger in our world today. Every soul—rich or poor, old or young, broken or whole—needs the Bread of Life.
If we, the church, choose to feed only certain kinds of people, we are failing in our calling. But if we, like Paul, become “all things to all people,” if we, like the baker, prepare bread for everyone—then no one is left out, no one is left behind, and the love of Christ becomes visible, tangible, undeniable.
May God help us to keep the oven lit, to bake with joy, and to feed His whole village—until the day we all gather at the great banquet table in His Kingdom.
