On this cloudy mid-November day I find myself restless. Eager to put my hands to something, I desire to add beauty and meaning to the world in a tangible way, one that can be tasted, savored, feasted upon. It doesn't get any more basic than bread. From the whir of the mixer, to the aroma of the baking, this offering fills me. It testifies to hunger, to a trust in the yeast's dependability, to a rising and browning and near perfect timing. It all comes together to create this delicious submission.
Jesus took few simple loaves of bread, gave thanks and then the miracle took place. He held loaves within his ruddy hands and broke them into enough to feed a crowd of hungry people. It was his presence, his blessing, his word of thanks that translated into a miracle that fed many.
What am I holding in my hands that can be given thanks for and given away for the feeding of others? Can I present something from within me that is uniquely mine to give away?
Today it is bread. Another day it might be meeting to talk over a cup of coffee, or the hemming of a dear one's pants, the sewing on of a button. Later it might be a meal around my table or flying off to a relation-building ministry in China or the giving of quilts in Mozambique or the coming along side a dear hurting friend who needs a listening ear. A writing from within, where Christ has things to say though me, just might be the thing He uses to bless and encourage.
"He (God) does miracle things with the offering no matter what it is."*
Today I submit a rustic image and a thought about giving away that which is waiting inside to be offered. What might the miracle be on this quiet pre-holiday day?
I encourage us all to step out and step up to that which God is inviting us to do that will make a difference, big or small, in our world today. We can do this one thing.
*quote from A Million Little Ways by Emily P. Freeman, my recent hyper-focus delight.