Starting Point

I do not consider myself a whiz in the kitchen.  I would say I’m a passable cook, but the idea of preparing food for others always makes me a bit anxious.  I’m comfortable making a meal for my family because I figure they’ve gotten used to what I create.  Others…. I’m not so sure.  Our church, like many others, provides food for families in need.  Perhaps someone has been ill, or a baby has been born, or they are packing to move.  My name is on the list.  I get the emails asking if I’d like to participate.  There is always a bit of hesitation in my spirit because I wonder what in the world do I make, that someone else will enjoy. 

When I recently read the story of Jesus feeding the four thousand in Mark 8, I knew exactly how the disciples felt.  Jesus doesn’t come right out at the beginning of the story and tell the disciples that they need to get cooking.  He presents the circumstance that there is a large group of people who have been listening to Jesus and hanging out with all of them for three days.  Jesus has noticed that the food the people had brought with them is now gone, and they are hungry.  It is time for all those people to go home, but Jesus is concerned that some of them have a long ways to travel, and it is just too far to go without having been fed first.   

The disciples are quick to generate excuses about why they shouldn’t be the ones to sign up to take a meal.  Oh how I know those excuses.  “I don’t have the ingredients on hand, Lord!”  “I need that meat to feed my own family!”  “I already have too much on my plate.”  “I have been helping this whole time, Lord, I’m exhausted!”  “Someone else will step forward, Jesus, shouldn’t I allow someone else the opportunity to help out?” “I think you are asking too much of me. I just don’t know how I will be able to get that done.”  I am saddened by how easily I identify with the disciples’ struggle; how I understand too completely that it just sounds like too much work, it’s too much hassle, and what is being asked, doesn’t seem to offer much personal reward.

My heart fills with gratitude over the graciousness of Jesus’ response.  Jesus doesn’t condemn or criticize the disciples for their attitude.  He didn’t remind them “you are to love your neighbor.”  He accepted where they were and began the process of helping them move forward by asking “How much bread do you have?” (Verse 5, NLT)  Jesus gave them a starting point. And then Jesus began to go to work.

Jesus does the same for me.  When I head into my whining, wee-bit-of-panic mode Jesus accepts me where I am and begins to turn my heart so that my attitude aligns with His. How gentle God’s Spirit is as He tenders my heart toward submission to His will.  He often reminds me of all I have been blessed with; or He reveals a pocket of time I had forgotten was available; or he fills my heart with a longing to do and be more than I had previously imagined. 

Just as the disciples learned, my eyes are not to be neither on myself, nor on the circumstance or need in front of me.  My focus is to be on Christ, what He wants to accomplish and what will bring Him glory.  The disciples didn’t make the miracle happen.  They provided what they had on hand to the Savior, and Jesus provided what was ultimately needed. 

They just provided what they had on hand: that was the starting point.  That needs to be my starting point as well.  Sometimes I have food to prepare on hand.  Sometimes I have a listening ear.  Sometimes I have a free afternoon to help someone pack, or complete a project, or give their spirit a lift.  Sometimes I have a card I can send.  Sometimes I have something I need to do and I can invite someone to join me. Jesus is asking each of us to trust Him enough to start.  He will take what little we have and provide the necessary miracle that feeds the souls of even the hungriest crowd.  Jesus is asking, “How much do you have?” He’s waiting to get started.