Bread of Life

A couple of weeks ago, Gavin and I celebrated 16 years of marriage.  I was only 15 when we began dating, and I'm almost 38 now, so we've been together a pretty long time.  We've had our share of ups and downs, and yet, the years have stretched out over a beautiful landscape made richer by the storms we've weathered and the opportunities that sometimes disguised themselves as obstacles.  On our anniversary, we enjoy spending time reflecting on our time together. 

"What was a highlight of this year?" 

"What do you hope we can do differently next year?"

"How can I be a better husband/wife to you?"

There's a little bit of nostalgia mixed in with the promise of our future days together.  Because we love each other so much, we have always worked very hard (even in our anger) to keep it together. Whenever we hastened to fix our problems on our own, solutions disintegrated, and the challenges overwhelmed us.  But whenever we handed over what we had to God, he honored our gift and multiplied the blessings.  Sometimes, we thought we were giving up when what we were really doing was giving what we had to the only One who actually had the capacity to do something with it.

One of the greatest miracles of the New Testament is Jesus's feeding of the 5,000.  Found in  Matthew 15, Mark 8, Luke 9,  and John 6 , it chronicles what happens when one responsible little boy gives his meager lunch to Jesus.  With just a couple of fish and a few handfuls of bread, Jesus satisfies the hunger of an enormous crowd of people.   It's interesting to me that Jesus broke the bread, gave thanks, and then multiplied it.  So often, we are the ones who are broken, and we've done it to ourselves.  With so little to share, so little to give, God takes the broken pieces and multiplies them into something that's worthy of more than a story--a real life miracle.  Most notably, he commands his disciples to:  "Gather the pieces that are left over.  Let nothing be wasted."  Yes, even in our brokenness, nothing is wasted. 

In hindsight, I am grateful for the times when I went all to pieces.  Now, when I look forward, I expect a miracle.  If I ever believe the lie that I have nothing to give, all I have to do is read the account outlined in all four gospels.  God does way more with the broken pieces than I could ever do with a basket of hoarded morsels.  Maybe nothing would ever "go to Hell in a handbasket" if we were all willing to take what we have, break it open, bare our soul, admit our deficiencies, and put it all in the basket that Jesus is holding. 

Two thousand years ago, more than five thousand people got to participate in a miracle, and all because one little boy was brave enough to give those pieces to Jesus.  The people went away satisfied, and not just because their bellies were full.  Their hearts were, too.