“And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full and those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.”
Matthew 14: 20-21
You fed 5000, Lord?
I panic with feeding 10 people at Thanksgiving.
And that is after weeks planning, shopping, stewing over details.
The multiplications of loaves and fishes – what a miracle to ponder.
My eyes keep falling though, on the phrase “broken pieces.”
You tenderly gathered these leftovers, these unused fragments together – to be drawn upon later I am sure.
You do the same with our brokenness too.
Presently the hurts, mistakes, cruel words pile up – of little benefit.
Yet I firmly believe, Lord, you fold them into your heart for future purpose.
I don’t know how. I don’t know when. But you will work a miracle again with my broken pieces.
I am amazed at this miracle – one that appears in all four gospels – that demonstrates your resourcefulness.
How can I ever doubt that you won’t supply my needs? If you call me to your work, you will provide for whatever you ask me to do.
I bring to you my meager offering – small, insignificant like five loaves and two tiny sardines – and you create a feast beyond imagination.
Your touch takes my impossible inadequacies and transforms them into far- reaching possibilities.
My human eyes only see obstacles where you see opportunity.
Impossible to us, achievable to you.
Only with you.
Only with your touch.