Good Things Multiply In God's Hands
“Mom,” Logan says. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings or worry you, but Gabe’s love tank seems low.”
My oldest son and I are enjoying a rare moment. He’s home from college, and the sun is settling on the porch swing just right.
“I know,” I say. “I’ve noticed. Dad and I will need to pull him from the pack. Offer some individual attention. Try to fill his tank with some one-on-one.”
“I’ll help, too,” he says.
I’m grateful. I am. But Logan has spoken my suspicion. My little Gabe is one of the middle children. He’s quiet and reserved. He’s not one to tell me how he’s feeling, but his inside becomes apparent with behaviors on the outside. He wears his heart on his sleeve that way.
I sit for a moment and begin to feel heavy-hearted. And a little empty-handed. Sometimes I worry that I fall short–just a little shy of offering enough. And it’s not just about one-on-one time. Sometimes I worry that I don’t possess enough wisdom. Or patience. Or kindness. It’s easy to feel that I’m running a little thin.
It’s then, sitting on the swing with my son that a sweet truth comes to mind. Loaves and fish. An abundance from a pittance. Baskets overflow when what we have is placed in His hands. It’s one of my favorite Bible stories.
I can picture Jesus teaching, pouring compassion and mercy on a vast crowd. There’s a hunger to learn, but physical hunger, too, and the resources that come forth are paltry. But Jesus prays, lifts His hands to the Lord, and the food is multiplied. The little stretches far. Bread is broken and bellies are filled.
In His hands, a small amount multiplied. In His hands, a small amount was more than enough.
Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke them. Then he gave them to the disciples to set before the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. (Luke 9:16-17)
Logan and I sit for a bit. There is no sound but the whine of the swing, traffic in the distance, and the gentle hum of a mower a few yards down.
And my heart is quiet, too.
I know that in my own strength, resources will not be adequate. In my own strength, I cannot meet the pressing needs.
But what I have, when placed in Jesus’ hands, will be multiplied. Magnified. Stretched to abundance in his sweet, amazing grace.
Lord, I offer You my wisdom, patience, kindness, compassion, understanding, love, joy, peace, time, energy and goodness. Let these be multiplied in Your hands. Amen.
A child’s gift reminds a mother that our transgressions are long forgotten. We’re seen as clean and new.