When I was little, I always wanted a lunch box. A cool, bright yellow one, with Disney Princesses. But my mom made me eat school lunches. I’d watch those cool kids leave the lunch line to go get their lunch box. They didn’t have to wait in line – no, they got to sit and begin eating right away. So I’d watch them slowly open the lid and smile with glee at what their mothers had packed: pudding, licorice, brownies, cold sandwiches, juiceboxes. If only I had a lunch box…then I wouldn’t have to pretend to eat the nasty eggroll. I wouldn’t have to sneak the gross food into my empty milk carton in an attempt to avoid the lunch room nazi, Nelly. When I was little, I really wanted a lunch box.
Today, I got to go to church and listen to one of my favorite people preach. And I walked out the sanctuary doors with tears running down my cheeks as I realized I do have a lunch box. And I’m holding so tightly to it, my knuckles have turned white.
There was this little boy who had a mother who packed his lunch: 5 loaves and 2 fish. And there was a huge group of hungry people. The disciples of the Rabbi saw this as a problem with no solution other than sending the people away to fend for themselves.
But the Rabbi says, “You feed them.”
The disciples protest, “We can’t.”
“What do you have?” asks the Rabbi.
“Five loaves and two fish”
“Give them to me,” says Rabbi Jesus.
We all have a lunch box. It might be our time, our money, our talents, etc. And usually, it’s woefully inadequate. The little boy in the story didn’t hold on to his meager lunch. Instead, he willingly gave it to Jesus…and Jesus took it, broke it, and multiplied it. Surely God didn’t need the little boy or his pathetic lunch. But He chose to use it. And the little boy got to be part of a pretty sweet miracle.
I hold on to my lunch box. Mostly because I’m afraid. I’m afraid if I give it up, I’ll lose control (as if I ever had control in the first place). I’m afraid if I’m not in control, it’ll fall through.
Do I believe by giving Him my lunch box, the need will be met? Do I really believe God will pull through? Do I believe God can take my inadequacies and pathetic resources, and multiply them? Can I move past my growling stomach, and see there is something going on here that is much bigger than me?