I haven’t any language weak enough to depict the weakness of my spiritual life. If I weakened it enough it would cease to be language at all. —C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer
What if your skills are rusty?
What if it’s been a while since you tried to exercise that gift?
What if you’ve only dreamed of doing this?
The Gospel of John gives us some details about the feeding of the masses that Luke leaves out. In Luke, we’re told it was the disciples who had the loaves and fish. But in John, we find out it was a young boy (John 6).
Were those loaves and fish meant to be dinner for his family? Was his family there with him? Was he running errands, got sidetracked by Jesus, and now he’s late for dinner? Who knows?
What we do know is that one boy had five loaves and two fish, and Jesus’ disciples offered them to Jesus while stating the obvious—they weren’t enough.
Since childhood, we’ve been taught that great people do great things, average people do average things, and a huge group of below-average people do below-average stuff.
Greatness is for the elite.
The rest of us just aren’t enough.
Charles Spurgeon said of this passage in the Gospels, “All that mattered was that the lad’s loaves were in the Lord’s hands.”
It could have been ten loaves or half a loaf. It could have been fresh bread or stale bread. It even could have been crumbs from the bottom of the boy’s basket.
In the hands of Jesus, “not enough” is more than enough.
Jesus told His crew to feed the masses, and He had every intention of empowering them to do so, regardless of the quantity or quality of the goods offered.
It doesn’t matter how few gifts you bring. It doesn’t matter if your skills are rusty. It doesn’t even matter if your abilities aren’t all that able. All that matters is you make yourself available to Jesus.
Lord, I could define myself by my shortcomings and weaknesses. Or I could define myself by my availability to You. May I be openhanded with all the loaves and fish in my life. Amen.