I lie here at the end of another day, and I am struck by the beauty of the simple moments this day has brought.
We’ve been watching videos during special events that I watched as a child. The premise is two archeologists and a young friend stumble upon a chamber that allows them to travel through time and experience the stories of the Bible first hand. Sounds a little peculiar, but what one of us wouldn’t love to be there when these things actually took place? Today, we watched one that covered the miracles of Jesus. As I watched the story unfold, Jesus was teaching the multitude of 5,000 (and however many women and children, too). Jesus sought for the disciples to show dependence upon Him, but none turned to Him in faith. At last, a boy came and said, “Excuse me, the Master can have my food.” All at once for some reason, I nearly began crying. As I tried to put a finger on what it was about that scene that moved me, I realized it stemmed from our devotion this morning. We read how God had used the foolish, the weak, the insignificant of this world to do what most would say is impossible. I realized I was about to cry because I was looking in a mirror.
I know my life and my heart. There is enough wickedness in me to bring shame, disgrace, and contempt to fill lifetime after lifetime. I have dove into the worst debauchery and filth this world has to offer. Worst of all, I find myself returning to it like a fool to his folly. So I know that what I bring to God is far less than the boy with the loaves and fishes and with a unfaithful heart at best. But I stand before Him offering what I have and am ready for His use. What do I find? Jesus can transform. What was a meager amount of scraps becomes a feast to fill the multitudes. What was a soul doomed to sin and hell for all the eons of eternity becomes a righteous, holy, sanctified child of God. Somehow, God can take me and use me to fill the hearts of others. What kind of grace is this?
So here I lie at the end of another day, reflecting on a love so simple, yet so profound. It only asks that I come as the boy did. Jesus didn’t need this kid. He was fully capable of filling the crowds. He had done it before many years ago as He rained manna upon the children of Israel in the wilderness. But Jesus graciously accepted the small offering the boy gave and transformed it into the amazing. And though I cannot offer Him much, He still takes it and does something beautiful. That’s my Jesus, my Savior, my King, my God. Praise be to Him and Him alone for His marvelous works!