Recently our pastor gave a sermon on the miracle of the fishes & loaves from John 6:5-13.
This was one of my favorite stories as a kid. Probably because every time we heard it in Sunday school what began in the baskets as five stale dinner rolls and two plastic fish “miraculously” turned into enough Saltine crackers and Swedish fish for everyone to snack on by the end of the story.
For this sermon, however, the pastor took a different angle on the story. He zoomed in on the little boy whose lunch was the vehicle for the miracle. The pastor extolled the virtues of the little boy who heard about the giant need for food and ran up to one of the disciples offering to share his little lunch of five small loaves of bread and two fishes.
I appreciated that the pastor had gone the extra mile to give us a new perspective on an old story by highlighting the fact that God will often use an “unlikely, regular person, even a young child” to do great works.
But my “kick it up a notch” brain took this new perspective to the next level and I was struck with the thought “well, who do you think packed that little boy’s lunch?”
It HAD to have been his mom. Who would make sure that the necessary food groups were covered and that a growing boy had enough food to fill his stomach with him when he left the house? It HAD to have been his mom.
What if she had simply rolled her eyes and smiled as she let him leave the hut that morning with nothing more than a jar of honey stashed in his pocket? What if she had spent too much time picking flowers in the field the day before and failed to make it to the market to buy the fish? Worse yet, what if she was tired when the rooster crowed in the morning and she decided not to get up off her sleeping mat and wrap the stinky fish for her son? What if she had or spent too much time the day before chatting with her friends at the well and ran out of time to mix up dough for the loaves?
But she hadn’t. Her little boy came prepared to spend the day listening to Jesus teach, with enough food intentionally packed and sent to sustain him for whatever the day’s activities necessitated.
The kicker–Jesus knew she wasn’t going to let that little boy down. He knew she was going to be faithful to do her part despite her not knowing she was sending her son prepared to be an integral part of miracle.
It gave me a new perspective and filled me with hope knowing that what often feels like endless planning, preparation, grocery shopping, keeping up with the laundry, wiping down toilet seats and scrubbing toothpaste spittle can have great effect in God’s kingdom.
I wish I could shout words of hope to all the moms–or in our case the dads– out there who gag through spreading mayonnaise, touching slimy lunch meats, and squirting ketchup on bologna sandwiches in the wee hours of the morning so their little ones will be nourished during their day. For making sure the lunch money is there. For not forgetting to get “those bagels” or the bread “without the seeds” so their picky eater won’t go hungry.
I think what touched me about this story and got me so excited to find this total mom text-to-life connection is that it gave me encouragement as a plain, simple, cape-less, medal-less, salary-less, award winning-less, TV show-less, regular ol’ mom.
I know I’m not the only mother out here who gets discouraged by the mundane dailyness of our tasks. I hear it from other moms. A lot. Like a lot, a lot. Why do we feel so unworthy for washing clothes, providing food then cleaning up the messes our families make while consuming it? Washing sheets, applying band-aids, driving and dropping off/picking up, or scrubbing the tub?
Yes, I took some artistic liberties making assumptions about this story, the Bible says nothing about a mom packing the little boy’s lunch. But I think that the Holy Spirit guided me down this train of thought to give me, and hopefully you too, some hope and encouragement in the imagining of it.
This story is an inspiration and reminder to me to be faithful in my daily tasks. To remember that every action counts for eternity. And whether you or I ever know it or not, our making yet another “boring” PB&J could end up being as famous as that lunch of five loaves and two fish prepared and packed centuries ago…
Jenna was born in Philadelphia and grew up in southern New Jersey, which means she’s a GREAT driver! She was saved in 1st grade and has loved God more ever since. She holds degrees in Secondary English Education, Professional Writing/Technical Communication, and a Bible minor from Cedarville University, Ohio. Jenna and her husband, Dan, have two boys and two girls between the ages of 5 and 9. Dan’s career in children’s ministry moved the family to Georgia in August 2011 and the rest of her story is still being written.
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