The little boy who gave his lunch to Jesus (not even, to one of the disciples actually) – this wild boy who started a mind boggling miracle. 5,000 people from a questionable cheese spread and cracker packet and a soft sandwich containing marmite and wilting lettuce – or something like that!
And I wonder how many mother’s in that crowd didn’t offer the bacon and egg pie they brought – thinking I’m making sure my kids get fed, these people should have been more organised.
I wonder if there were people in the crowd who didn’t offer their peanut butter sandwich reasoning some one might be nut intolerant.
I wonder if some didn’t offer theirs because ‘hello, what delusional person is going to think my filled roll will feed anyone other than me? Logic people.‘
I wonder who conveniently claimed they ‘don’t have any thing with me sorry’ because they felt confronted and offended by being asked to contribute when they had come to receive.
I wonder who felt too embarrassed to admit what they had with them for fear of judgement from the food police.
I wonder, I wonder, I wonder….
and I wonder what stops me giving to the One I claim to trust
what halts my hand on it’s upward rise to indicate I have something right here
I have something you could use
a talent, a mite, a word, a prayer, a song, a dance, a sandwich, a hug
is it fear? is it shame? is it selfishness? is it logic? is it offence?
whatever the reason I am limiting my opportunity to be involved in some crazy miracle that will fill the world with a little more of his glory.
How can I do that? How can I be so preoccupied with myself that I miss out on changing the world.
I love that kid – maybe his mother tried to stop him? Maybe he was sick of fish for lunch and happy to hand it off? Maybe he was just a little bit of a mischief maker and he saw in the eyes of Jesus someone else who refused to look for excuses and good reasons and lived a little.
What’s in your lunchbox? There are some hungry people around you.