Bread

I've spent a lot of time the past few months crunching numbers. On the plus side, I've become much more faithful in keeping track of my finances and knowing where every dollar goes. Today, though, I was convicted of how much I resemble the disciples in Matthew when they are confronted with Jesus' proposal of feeding the 5000 (and, later on, the 4000). The people are hungry. The disciples present the rational response: the people should go home and eat. Jesus counters with nonsense: they don't need to go anywhere because we will feed them. The disciples gather the food and crunch the numbers, but there is no way of stacking the five loaves and two fish that makes them look like anything more than a meal for a family of 6. They point this out to Jesus, and He prays for the food, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples to hand out. And they feed the five thousand, and leftovers abound.

I'm not sure where the food multiplies here, but it doesn't seem like it's before it starts to be handed out. Matthew doesn't tell us that Jesus waves his hands over the loaves and fish and they suddenly become numerous. He tells us that Jesus prays and thanks God for the food and then takes a tangible step of faith and asks His disciples to do the same.

Proverbs 30 caught my eye today. In verses 8 and 9 it says, "Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say, 'Who is the Lord?' Or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God." This goes so against everything I hold onto in my daily life. I want savings, a nest egg, something to fall back on when times get tough. I want a buffer between me and the grace of the Lord. But how much do we lose when we separate ourselves from the hand that feeds us? How much do we lose when we have so much that we can comfortably disown Him and live (we think) on our own resources? What would it look like to truly awake every day and depend on Him for that day's bread, the manna from Heaven that He will surely give to those who look to Him?

Return (a few updates and a challenge)

It's funny how quickly a month flies by when one's routine is interrupted, but I am back now. After a few weeks of travel (oh, blessed time!) and another week of adjusting to a new job, my days of quiet reflection, reading, writing, and prayer seem more distant than they ought. My new schedule, still changing, won't allow for quite the same amount of introspection as the old one, but I do hope to maintain a few of the disciplines briefly explored during that time. Continue to check here for the fruit.

The purpose of this blog is not to provide a narrative of my life, so I will keep the personal details brief, but I would be remiss to skip over them entirely. The Lord has blessed me greatly over the past few months with opportunities to spend time with friends both new and old and to be encouraged and renewed. I have met new circles of friends in North Carolina, Chicago, Belgium, and Germany, and have been reunited with other friends: a dear partner from my ministry three years ago in Costa Rica and, at long last, my best friend, "the one whom my soul loves." Returning from these journeys, I found myself with a job that, while not perfect in every way, will pay the rent until I can find something better. God is faithful, and someday I will learn to give up guessing what is coming my way next; reality always surpasses anything I can invent.

As I return to Chicago and begin to settle into somewhat of a routine, with most of this year's many travels and transitions behind me and a long, perhaps lonely winter approaching, I struggle to find a sense of purpose. In talking with the aforementioned best friend earlier today, I found myself exclaiming, "I just don't feel like I'm doing anything!" I meant doing anything worthwhile, accomplishing anything for the Kingdom, and I was quickly reminded of a comment this friend had made a week or so ago. To paraphrase, he said that "it's not the things we're doing, but the type of person we're becoming, that matters to God."

This is a hard truth. I do things well. I love to do things. I have a resume over-full of things I've done and a to-do list of all the things that would, in my eyes, make my life "worthwhile." But, without the depth of character, that caliber of gold that can only come through refining fires, our acts and gifts and deeds are nothing but a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

Who are you? What type of person are you becoming? What caliber of person have you already become? Can you stand before the Lord, works set aside, and say you are satisfied in the work He has done in your character?