My Fishes and Loaves

There are times when I feel overwhelmed by the need I see in the world. When I am on the road and I stop at an intersection, I study the cars that "meet" me at this juncture and estimate how many people are in the cars, and how many families they represent, and how many stories and sadnesses they hold all together. Then I feel like the author of Ecclesiastes when he writes, "I saw the tears of the oppressed- and they have no comforter; power was on the side of the oppressors- and they have no comforter" (4:1).

Or if I simply sit on a Sunday and watch people as they come and go for the morning service, I see various groups, each with specific needs. There are the handicapped, the elderly couples or widows/widowers, young married couples, teenagers, dating couples, single parents, divorced parents, families with children, families without children, and all the children themselves– how could I possibly help them all?!

The temptation for me is to fall into utter hopelessness, or to veer to the other extreme: I want to do all that I can to help as many people as possible. Then I end up saying, "Yes, I can do that!" to everyone and everything until I collapse in an emotionally and physically-exhausted heap.

Gladly, that was the tendency of a much younger me. Since becoming a wife, a mother, and a more diligent follower of Christ, I have learned that it is not my task to save everyone. But neither is it my job to sit back and mope. And a great example of this is the story of the boy with the fishes and loaves (see Matthew 14, Mark 6, Luke 9, and John 6), which I read with my younger children earlier this week. Picture this...

It had been a long day. People had journeyed from all over to meet this man named Jesus, and among them was a boy. His mother had sent him to the Lake of Galilee to see what was going on there. And when he arrived, he was excited to see the healings and to hear the teachings of Jesus.

But it was still tiring to sit out in the sun for so many hours. The boy was grateful for the meal his mother had packed for him. No one else seemed ready to leave, and so the boy settled on a small rock and prepared to devour his five loaves of bread and two small fishes.

Then, just before he bit into a loaf, he heard some men talking.

"Even if we had eight month's worth of wages, we couldn't feed all these people!"

Jesus and his friends were going to try to feed everyone?! The boy looked around him. From his position on the hill, he could see the people stretch between him and the lake. Never before had the boy seen so many people! It would be impossible for anyone but Caesar to feed such a large crowd! What could anyone do but send the people home?

The boy lifted the loaf to his mouth again, ready to savor his mother's delicious bread, when he saw one of Jesus's friends come near. The man was scanning the crowd, asking here and there, "Do you have any food?"

The boy didn't know what to do. What difference would his two fishes and five loaves make? But maybe the man was asking for food because Jesus was hungry. The boy stood up.

"Excuse me, sir, I have some food."

The man quickly ran over. "How much do you have?"

"Only five loaves of bread and two fishes. But Jesus can have it all, if He wants."

The man heaved a tired sigh. "Okay, that's fine. Come with me then."

The boy gathered his basket and cloak and walked with the man towards the hill where Jesus sat. His heart pounded. He was going to share his food with Jesus! But what would Jesus think of such a meager meal? There was no turning back now. When they reached Jesus, the boy shakily held his basket out. Jesus smiled at the boy, took the basket, and held it up to the sky, giving thanks for the food.

Then Jesus did something the boy did not expect. Without taking any for himself, Jesus told his friends to pass the food out to the crowd. The boy watched as person after person was fed fish and bread, and even as he watched, he couldn't explain how this was possible. It took an hour for Jesus's twelve friends to pass out the food, and when everyone had had their fill, Jesus told the men to collect the leftovers– each returning with one big basketful!

The boy could have kept his food for himself. He could have shrugged his shoulders in pessimism or apathy because, logically, his food could not have fed more than three or four people at best.

But the little he had, he gave to Jesus. And it was Jesus who took that little and made it more. And He didn't make it 'just enough', He went above and beyond! Jesus is the God of abundance!

So I don't need to give in despair, nor do I need to take on the burdens of the world. When Jesus sees people driving in their cars or sitting in a church service, and He sees ALL their sadnesses and heartaches, He also sees a very different picture–one of joy and healing– "…for He Himself knew what he would do." (John 6:6) 

And the best part is that he invites me to take part in it, to have a front row seat, to be his right-hand man! Every thing I do, no matter how small, if I do it for Jesus, can be used (and multiplied) by Him to bless people. Which reminds me of one of my favorite verses:

Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him. ~Colossians 3:17

I will give to God what little I have to give, by writing this post, or inviting a friend over, or watching someone's baby, or sending someone a card. Who knows how far reaching my one action can go when I allow God to be the One who saves, the One who makes abundance flow from nothing?