Five Loaves, Two Fish

Recently, I haven’t been able to get away from the story of the feeding of the five thousand. You know, the bit where thousands of people come to listen to Jesus and get so wrapped up in what he’s saying and doing that they forget about dinner. Being the astute bunch they are, the disciples notice this and start to get a bit worried. It’s getting late, they think, and it’s going to start getting dark soon and we’re in the middle of nowhere. So, they decide it’s time to wrap the whole thing up and send the crowd away to find food and shelter for the night. Armed with this amazingly wise and logical plan, they tug on Jesus’s sleeve, ‘erm… Jesus. Well, er… sorry to interrupt, but it’s getting kind of late and we were thinking it’s about time to send all the people home, so they can, you know, eat and go to bed and stuff.’

Jesus turns to them, smiles, looks them up and down and says, ‘I’m sure they’re getting a bit peckish. Why don’t you give them something to eat?’ Cue the dropping of jaws, frantic looks, and sudden rummaging in pockets. ‘Well, that’s a good idea and all but, well, we’ve only got… How many did you say, John?... Five measly little loaves and… what was that?... two?... two fish. I’m not sure that will be enough to go round.’

‘We could go out and buy some food,’ pipes up Peter from the back, cueing an incredulous stare from Judas. Jesus smiles again, slowly shakes his head, and says, ‘no need for that. Have the people sit down in groups of about fifty. We have more than enough.’

Sometimes, well, a lot of the time really, I feel like those disciples. I turn out my pockets, look down into my hands, see my meagre offering and shrink a little bit inside. ‘What do I have to give?’, I think, ‘It’s measly, rubbish, there’s no way this is going to make any kind of meaningful difference,’ and I shove my hands, and my pathetic gifts, back into my pockets. But, what if? What if I had the courage to reach out and give my pathetic offering to Jesus? What could happen then? What would happen then?

Perhaps, I’m just a world-weary pessimist. Perhaps, there’s a part of me that still struggles with placing my trust in El Shaddai, God Almighty, The All-Sufficient One. Perhaps, I’ve become so focused on the notion of having to do things myself that I’ve forgotten I have a God in heaven more than capable of turning water into wine and five small loaves and two scrawny fish into a banquet for over five thousand people, with more to spare. Perhaps, I just need to stretch out my hands more, gifts held lightly, saying, ‘erm… Jesus, I have this fluff, a paper clip and two tiny buttons. Would they be any good?’

And Jesus would smile again, pluck them from my sweaty palms and say, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘yes, Simon, they’d be just perfect!’