Pieces of Grace

Matthew 14:13-21     Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

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The following includes much content that was drawn from Tom Long's book, Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian.

Some of my favorite moments in church, I have to admit, have been moments of talking to very young children.  Because, you know, kids say the darnedest things.  You can always bet that any question you ask a young child, in the context of worship or Sunday school, will elicit one of these two answers:  God. Or Jesus.  They just know, even if they have no idea what you’re talking about, that the answer to the question has got to be either God or Jesus.

Anything you might ask them about – the Bible story or the weather or cookies.  It’s all good, because, you know, Jesus.  And God.

And there is something so sweet and genuine about it, I don’t even want to correct them when they’re wrong.  They say the words with such pure love, big smiles on their faces.  It’s great; that’s when we know that we have done something right.  We may get a lot of things wrong, but when our little ones love to talk about Jesus with big smiles on their faces we can be sure we have done something right.

And then I remember one day I was teaching a group of early elementary kids – 5,6,7 year olds – and they were talking about Jesus while they were coloring.  Talking about how much they love Jesus, making me feel so good.  Then one little girl got a serious look and said, “But my mommy says you shouldn’t talk about Jesus too much when you’re not in church.”  Her smile faded; and my heart fell.  You shouldn’t talk about Jesus out in public, because it’s embarrassing.   

I am afraid that just about sums up our attitude toward evangelism.  And my dear brothers and sisters, it does not bode well for the church.

Not that we never invoke his name.  But too often when we’re angry or frustrated – and boy, wouldn’t we be shocked if he answered us?  That would change our mood in a hurry.

And there are other ways, too, when we invoke the name of God that aren’t offensive, but maybe just meaningless – like when we tack “God willing” on to the end of a statement, or when we toss off a “God bless you” when someone sneezes. 

It’s empty God talk; it might point, in a vague way, to something beyond ourselves but still say nothing about God.  The truth is, that little girl’s mother was right; real, authentic God talk makes people uncomfortable. 

You may want to push back right about now and ask, “Why should we talk about God? What’s the point?”  I don’t want to make people uncomfortable; I don’t want to be uncomfortable.

So why, then, should we talk about God?  Maybe because leaving God out of the narrative of your life is like leaving your parents out of your life story.  There are important people in our lives and we can’t simply cut them out of the story.  Try to tell your story without including the people who fed you, cared for you, taught you, held you while you were afraid, mended your wounds when you were suffering.  To do so would be dishonest.  In the same way, as people of faith we can’t leave God out of our stories.  And this is how we talk about God – in the story we tell about ourselves.

Heidi Neumark is a Lutheran pastor who served a church in the South Bronx and wrote a book about her experience there called Breathing Space.  In her book, she tells a story about one Holy Week when the congregation did a passion play, and when they got to the scene of Easter morning and the empty tomb, there were three actors planted in the congregation who stood up, one at a time and said, “I know he is alive because he is alive in me.”  And then they would tell their stories of life difficulties and how they were healed and saved by Jesus.  After the three finished, the play was supposed to continue, but the congregation didn’t know that.  One by one they stood up and said, “I know he is alive because he is alive in me,” one after another giving their testimony, telling their own story.

We don’t all have dramatic stories to tell.  But if we have faith, it is because of the way we have known God to be present in our lives.  We need to know how to tell the stories of our lives using God talk.  Christians are ordinary people with ordinary lives, but all the ordinary things in our lives are illuminated by our relationship with Jesus.  So we may see all these ordinary things in a different light:

Think of every meal as a Eucharist, an opportunity for thanksgiving as we share bread with others and welcome Jesus into the gathering.  So anytime we sit at table with our families or with a friend, or even a stranger we remember Jesus’ words:  whenever you do this, do it in remembrance of me.

Think of living with others in the world as welcoming strangers, showing hospitality, living out the second greatest commandment – love your neighbor as you love yourself.  This is hard, but as Pope Francis said last week about the Syrian refugees, do not think of them as numbers, think of them as individuals, each one with a story of his or her own.  This is the only way we can truly show hospitality, truly love our neighbors.

Think of finding a job as finding your vocation, the work that God has prepared you for.  In fact, any life decision becomes about discerning the ways God is nudging you, leading you.  All the stories of all the twists and turns of our lives, the forks in the road, these are opportunities to see where God is speaking to you.

And think of raising children as instilling seeds of faith in them and supporting them in their growth toward discipleship. 

When we seek to live intentionally as Christ’s disciples, everything in our lives is suddenly lit up by that decision.  Then our own story becomes our testimony.  This is how we share the good news.  We don’t have logical proof or possession of the whole story of God.  What we have is testimony.  It’s like loaves and fishes. 

When Jesus turned to his disciples and said to them, “You feed these people,” it must have been frightening for them.  Here was an enormous crowd, as Matthew tells it, 5000 men plus women and children besides, out in the wilderness.  No one had planned for food service.  There was no caterer at this event; there was no Kroger's nearby.  There was no way these few unprepared men could feed thousands of hungry people.

But some one, or a few perhaps, had something, and they offered it.  Jesus took what was given and blessed it, and it was transformed into something that could satisfy.  Thousands were fed that day, and there were leftovers.

This is how it is with our lives.  We are called to be Christ’s disciples. We are called upon to share the good news, to feed his sheep, but none of us has what it takes to feed other people.  When we are self-conscious about that, we may hide it away.  We think our own faith is inadequate; our own stories are nothing special.  But if we offer it, God takes what we have and makes it enough.  Then we see the pieces of our lives woven through with God’s grace.

What are the loaves and fishes of your life?  What are the pieces that make up your life?  Some of these pieces we remember because they were wonderful; others we remember because of how hard they were.  And some seem so insignificant we don’t even know why we remember them at all.  But all of the pieces – good, bad, and seemingly insignificant – God has worked through them.

This week I was remembering a few of those pieces in my life.  I thought about Marie.  Marie was one of my mother’s friends from work.  They were both nurses, although Marie was quite a bit younger.  She came into our lives when her fiancé was killed in action in Viet Nam. 

Marie was emotionally devastated. And the loss seemed to take a toll on her physical health, too, which was already compromised by her diabetes.  For reasons that were not explained to me, because I was only 8 years old, Marie moved in with us.

It was lovely.  It was like having a new big sister – without the fighting, just all the love.  I had some serious health issues at the time, and Marie was supportive to me, in a way that no one else could be, because of her own challenges.  I remember a brief conversation with her about it that seems insignificant – but I remember it these many years later, so it certainly was significant.  We loved having Marie in our family.

A couple of years later, Marie met someone and fell in love again.  She wanted my sisters and me to be in her wedding because we had become like sisters to her.  Around that time my own family was going through some financial difficulties and we were forced to leave our home.  Now it was my mother who was devastated.  And Marie was there, helping and supporting us all the way through.  Her love was a lifeline for us at that moment of our lives.

When I look at these pieces of my life through a lens of faith, I see God’s mercy at work through the way these women held one another when they were falling down.  I see God’s hospitality in the way Marie was welcomed into our home, and the way Marie sheltered my sisters and me in our time of need.  I see God’s work through these two women of faith, and their faithfulness planted the seeds of faith in me.  They taught me what faith in action looks like, by their example and by their care for me.  I see God’s grace holding all the pieces together.

So, what is your story?  What are the loaves and fishes of your life?  I hope you will take some time today to reflect on the pieces of your story and imagine how God has been a part of them.  Something that missionaries often say is that wherever you go, God is already there.  When you begin to see things that way, you are on your way to telling your story.