Read: 1 Samuel 5:1-7:17, John 6:1-21, Psalm 106:13-31, Proverbs 14:32-33

“Tell everyone to sit down,” Jesus said. So they all sat down on the grassy slopes. (The men alone numbered about 5,000.) Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks to God, and distributed them to the people. Afterward he did the same with the fish. And they all ate as much as they wanted. After everyone was full, Jesus told his disciples, “Now gather the leftovers, so that nothing is wasted.” So they picked up the pieces and filled twelve baskets with scraps left by the people who had eaten from the five barley loaves.
John 6:10-13

Relate: When was the transition? At what point in time did the skepticism, or even bitterness and anger, turn into excited awe and wonder? You are probably wondering what on earth I am talking about, so let’s back up in the story a bit. In the Luke version of the feeding, Jesus tells the disciples to have the people group themselves into clusters of about fifty people each. At a minimum, that means there were about 100 groups of people all scattered across the hillside. I know, I know, some translations say “mountainside” but that is just crazy talk. I’ve been to Galilee and there ain’t no mountains. Even calling them “hills” is stretching it for someone raised in New York’s Southern Tier and now living in the Philippines. But I digress.

There are groupings of people scattered around the slope and they are probably all wondering what was going on. Once Jesus wasn’t preaching anymore, I think it realistic to say the scene was one of lowgrade confusion and chaos. There’s little siblings running around. Older siblings are chasing the younger siblings. Mamas are standing there yelling at the whole lot of them. And dads are frustrated at them all while saying, “The sooner we can get organized, the sooner we can eat. Let’s go kids.” Finally, your group of fifty is all sitting and settled. Finally Simon some over, hands you two barley dinner rolls and a sardine, and says, “Here’s your lunch. Pass this around.” Perhaps you are more godly than I am, but if it were me, a few unprintable words would be coming to mind. Of course, I wouldn’t say them aloud. Simon’s a zealot, a freedom fighter (though the Romans call him a terrorist), and you just don’t mess with those dudes. Not even under my breath to his walking away back. But you know I am thinking them. How the… on earth, am I going to spread this around. It is barely enough to satisfy my youngest, let alone this whole group now looking at me with eager expectation and growling bellies.

With a shrug, I break one of the rolls and half to Miryam. Then I look down. There’s still a whole roll there. I give another half to Eli. Pause. Look again. Still a whole roll. I give Zechariah one of my two fish. Wait a minute, I thought I only had one. Faster and faster I start handing out the food. As quick as I give it away, more keeps appearing though I can never actually spot it happening. Soon, all fifty have had a bite. But I keep on passing it out. There is no stopping this. They all get seconds and then thirds. I’m practically dancing around now tossing fish to boys on the far side of the circle. Some people starting to say they’re full. I don’t care. They’re getting more. I want to be handing out bread and fish till my limbs fall off. I haven’t even had a bite yet myself, I’m just having too much fun feeding others. Finally, I look down and see that there’s no more. I’ve given the last fish away and nothing has magically reappeared. My wife comes over with about four meals of bread and fish that I have given to her. I guess it’s my turn to eat. A few of the men are clustered together talking about what Jesus said. A few others are taking naps. Most of the women and older girls are in a circle chatting away. Except for the very youngest, the kids from our circle are playing some type of tag game against the kids from the next circle over. As I am munching away my wife says, “We shouldn’t let all this extra go to waste. Why did you keep handing out so much?” I just look at my hands, greasy from the fish. Why do I say? What can I say? “I’m serious, Aaron.” She says, “We need to start collecting the leftovers and give it back to Jesus. I mean, it was His to begin with, right?” I am still looking at my hands. It happened through me, but it certainly wasn’t me. I have no idea how it really happened. I just know one thing, I’ll follow Him anywhere.

React: Around the end of April, I had to pay for my final semester of classes to get my MDiv. Honestly, I had been wondering for weeks if I should do it or put it off till the fall. I had made a commitment to never go in debt to pay for this degree. But my bank account was slightly less than the full cost for the semester. How am I going to do this? It is going to kill any safety margin and still, I won’t quite be enough. But the timing seemed right so I stepped out to do it. I set it up in two payments, one before the deadline for my classes and the other exactly one month later. My church will send my missions giving at the beginning of each month. If God is good, enough will come through that to pay the balance and we are all good. It was a step of faith, a bit of a risk but not a huge one. And then, the morning after making that first payment, without me asking or saying anything to anyone, a significant gift did come in. The next day I find out the school (Liberty) waived my technology fee giving me a $300 reimbursement. Then another gift came in. Before I knew it, that entire second payment was covered. How this happened, why it happened I have no idea. It was as if God was saying to me, “You’ve taken a step of faith, and I am taking it with you. Your feet have stepped out and your hands have done the work, but it is My strength that gets it done and My Spirit that puts meaning to it. Nothing gets wasted.”

Respond:

Dear God,
The number of tiny miracles You have done in my life is more than I could ever try counting. You have healed me from asthma. Another loaf broken. You have preserved my life after an accident that both the doctor and the police said should have killed me. Another loaf broken. You blinded seeing eyes so that I could return to a country that had kicked me out. Another loaf broken. You have supplied in miraculous and mundane ways so many times I would sound like a broken record repeating them all. Another loaf. And another. And another. I pray that the miracles done in my life will not be wasted. Let Your strength and Your Spirit give them purpose.
Amen.