I learned to make bread a long time ago. It’s one of the ways I help our household. I have a little sister. She’s been sick for as long as I can remember. My parents have to take care of her. They always seem so tired and sad.
My mom taught me how to make bread when I was 10. It has been a couple years since then, and I still make it every morning. The day we traveled to see the healer we’d heard so much about, I was responsible for getting everything packed.
“Son, put together some food for today. We will walk a long way, and then we may have to wait. Take some of your bread and the fish your father smoked yesterday. Pack it all up, and put it in the basket. Maybe today your sister will be healed,” my mother said.
I bundled up the fresh bread and the smoked fish, and we started our journey. I carried the basket all day as we made our way to Jesus. The crowds were huge. I’d never seen so many people trying to catch the attention of just one man.
“Son, we will never get this man’s attention among so many people with so many needs. Get up to the front. At least maybe you could meet him and tell us about him,” my dad said as he nudged me forward.
I maneuvered through the thousands of people. It was a crowd of sick, sad people longing for some little morsel of hope.
The man at the center of the commotion, Jesus, moved away from the thousands. He appeared to take his disciples up the side of a mountain. “Now is my chance,” I thought to myself. I began to move more quickly and headed toward Jesus and his friends. I walked into the middle of a conversation about food. They were wondering how to feed the masses with no money in hand and no market in sight.
Jesus looked calm. Everyone else seemed full of concern. One of the disciples of Jesus looked at me and saw my basket of food. The disciple said to Jesus, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?”
Jesus came over to me and asked if he might use my bread and my dad’s fish to feed the people. I knew my parents would want me to share with this great healer. I handed him the basket.
Jesus thanked me, then he prayed and thanked God. He told his disciples to get everyone to sit down on the grass. Jesus’ friends didn’t understand what he was doing; they wondered how my little basket of food could feed so many.
Jesus looked at me and said, “Let’s give away what you have shared and see what happens.”
I helped pass out big pieces of the bread I made, and I watched as the fish my dad smoked was handed out, too. Somehow, there was always more. All the tired, sad people ate morsels of hope together.
I found my way back to my dad and mom and sister. “Son, where is your basket? Come sit down and eat. All of the people are being fed by the healer and his friends. Isn’t that miraculous?”
I smiled and said, “Mom, that’s our bread and fish you’re eating. Jesus used what I had, and it was enough.”
"Holy Everything" is a weekly column by Emily Carson. She is a Lutheran pastor. Visit her website emilyannecarson.com.
"bread" - Google News
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