“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.’
‘We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,’ they answered.
‘Bring them here to me,’ he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.”
Sometimes, I don’t have much to offer. I feel used-up and burnt-out. I feel like the disciples who turned to God with what felt like empty hands. “All we have are these few pieces of bread and fish. It’s barely anything. What could this possibly accomplish?” On some days that’s how it feels to put my faith in God. I hold out my little, fractured pieces of trust and think, it isn’t much, God, but I’m giving it to you.
And isn’t that all he asks of us? The faith of a mustard seed?
To offer up what we have, even if it’s small, tattered, and seemingly worthless. I like to imagine that God takes the pieces from our hands and thinks, “Oh yes, I can work with this.” He looks at us and sees unlimited possibilities because we are dealing with the creator of the universe. He is the master designer. This is the same God who made light out of darkness and life out of dust. Jesus took those five loaves of bread and two fish and fed 5,000+ people. And they had 12 baskets of leftovers.
If he can do that, he can make something beautiful out of the little that I have to offer, even when it isn’t much.