PASSAGE FOR THE DAY:
Matthew 14 (click the link)
KEY PASSAGE:
When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick. As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.” Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.” (Matthew 14:14-16, NIV)
REFLECTIONS:
God's word is such an incredible gift. It is indeed "alive and active" (Hebrews 4:12).I love how I can read the same passage on two different days and receive two completely different insights. Back in February, I wrote a Companions devotional over a parallel passage in Mark 6 (you can find it here). What struck me then is in stark contrast to what stands out to me today.
…………
In order to get it the most out of the Bible's narrative
passages, one of the best things you can do is to use your imagination to enter
the story as a character. So, I'd like to encourage you to stop what you're
doing right now and read verses 13-22 again. I mean it. Set aside this
devotional and re-read the story of the miraculous feeding. And this time, use
your imagination. Don't simply read the story for information (as if it's a
newspaper) or for enjoyment (as if it's a novel). Slow down a little. Imagine
yourself as a participant in the story. There's plenty of room, and there's a
lot to learn.
…………
To begin with, think back to the last time you were really,
really sad. Maybe after the death of a close relative or a good friend. After
you didn't get the job you set your heart on. After you had to move out of the
house you had loved. What you probably needed and wanted most was to go away to
be alone and quiet. To have some time to yourself, maybe to meditate and pray.
But above all to be alone, and to not have people bother you.
Now, suppose the quiet place you chose to get away was
invaded by a large crowd of people. Maybe, the lonely hillside where you imagined
you could be in private was covered by a group of cheerful hikers. Or, the hole-in-the-wall
coffee shop where you hoped to sit quietly was unusually busy with customers.
Or, the spot out at the lake where you hoped to hide out was packed with college-age
partiers. How would you react?
I don't know about you, but my reaction would be quite
different from that of Jesus. Anger. Frustration. Impatience.
This makes Jesus' reaction here all the more astonishing to
me. He had lost John, his cousin and companion in ministry. And the manner in
which John had been killed must have warned Jesus of what lay ahead for him,
too. Yet, when Jesus slips away to be quiet and alone and the crowds discover
where he's hidden himself, his reaction is not anger or frustration. Instead,
he is filled with compassion. Somehow, he translates his sorrow over John into
sorrow for the crowds. Someway, he transforms his own feelings of sadness into
love for those in need.
Jesus is such a remarkable man. You can't help but be struck
by how amazingly gracious and generous he is.
…………
Now, imagine yourself as one of the disciples—not a leader,
just one of the Twelve, or perhaps one of their friends or cousins, hanging
around the edge. You’re struck by how Jesus cares for people, and you'd like to
care for them, too. In your mind, you think the compassionate thing to do would
be to send the crowds away, so that they can make it back to town to buy food
rather than spend the night hungry out here, miles away from anywhere.
Jesus always loves it when people around him come up with
ideas which show that they are thinking of the needs of others. But often, he
has to take those ideas and tweak them a bit.
"If you really care for them," he says, "why
don't you give them something to eat?"
This is what often happens in Christian ministry. Our small
idea of how to care for people gets bounced back at us with what seems a huge
and impossible proposal. We protest. I can't do that! I don't have the
time. I don't have the energy. I don't have the skills. I don't have the
ability. All I have is…
This story is so typical of how God's calling works. By
simply hanging around Jesus, you come up with an idea. It wasn't quite in focus
yet, but your main intention—in this case, that the people should be fed—is on
target. Jesus proposes achieving that aim by a different means, a startlingly
different means. You think it's impossible—but you're prepared to give him the little you've
got, if that'll be any good. Of
course, it means you'll have to go hungry yourself… but now you're in too deep
to stop. You've been swept up in the spirit of Jesus' compassion, and you just
can't stop yourself from offering your small meal of bread and fish.
What Jesus does with what we give him is so mysterious and
powerful that it's hard to describe in words. Just imagine yourself standing
there in the midst of thousands of people, while Jesus takes a pitifully small
amount of food—hardly enough for one or two people, let alone a crowd—and prays
over it. He thanks God for it. He breaks it. And he gives the small pieces to
you and the others. And you give it to… one person after another after another after
another, without knowing what's happening or how.
It's mind-blowing, what Jesus does here. Think through how
it's happened. You’re hanging around close to Jesus and struck by his compassionate
response to the crowds. A thought enters your mind and you bring it to Jesus.
He takes your thought, turns it inside out, and gives it back to you as a
challenge. At this point, your mind is spinning, mainly because of the enormity
of Jesus' challenge. It seems almost impossible to do what he says, but you
decide to offer what you've got, knowing full well that it's quite inadequate.
And the same thing happens. He takes it, blesses it, and breaks it, and gives
it to you—and your job now is to give it to everybody else.
…………
This is how it works whenever we get close enough to Jesus
to catch a glimpse of what he's doing and how we can maybe, just possibly,
help. We blunder in with our ideas. We offer, uncomprehendingly, what little we
have. Jesus takes ideas, loaves and fishes, money, time, energy, talents, love,
artistic gifts, skills with words, a sense of humor, whatever we have to offer.
He holds them before his Father with prayer and blessing. Then, breaking them
so they are ready for use, he gives them back to us to give to those who need
them.
And now they are both ours and not ours. They are both what
we had in mind and not what we had in mind. Something greater and different,
more powerful and mysterious, yet also our own. It's mind-boggling to think of
what God can do with the meager resources we offer to him.
PRAYER:
Jesus, thank you so much for your soul-nurturing compassion.
I am amazed by your ability to put the needs of others ahead of your own. I am
astonished by your ability to do the impossible with my meager offerings.
Forgive me for the times I lose sight of your powerful creativity and timidly
choose to hold back my gifts. Today, I choose to offer all that I am to you.
Strengthen me, by your grace, to step forward in faith. I trust you to take the
little I've got to bless the world around me. Use me to expand your kingdom in
the lives of others today. And be glorified through all that I am.
WHO AM I?
I am Tres Sansom, and (here's a warning… I'm about to say something
mushy) I am the proud husband of an amazing wife. I've always been captivated by
Kate's beauty and her heart for others, but now that we've got two little
rugrats running around our house, I am absolutely blown away by her ability to not
only hold things together but to care for her overgrown infant of a husband and
her ever-needy foster kids with an amazing graciousness of heart. She's got no
time or space to herself; yet every time we need her she sets aside what she's
doing and loves us with fresh grace. I am so thankful that God decided to gift
me with such a wonderful wife! 
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