Seventy Loaves and no Fish

In my prayers this morning, I was moved to give thanks for John.  He's one of my fellow drivers; let me tell you something about him.  He's just a little younger than me, born and bred in the northern suburbs of London.  He started work as an apprentice motor car engineer, and is often called upon by the rest of us to explain what's going on under our bonnets!  He's been working as a courier for many years now, and takes a great interest in the people around him, sometimes to the point of annoyance, as he interrogates departing drivers to know where they're going.  Often it's somewhere he's been to himself, and he's anxious to offer helpful advice on such aspects as where to park, which door to use, etc.

John is married to Dorothy, a health service worker, and is devoted to her, to their two sons, and their wider family.  There's nothing he wouldn't do for them, wouldn't provide for them if it's within his power - even though the sons are both well-established in their own right, and earning far more than he is!  In idle moments he often regales us with stories of what they've been doing, or reminiscences of family holidays, etc.

Yesterday John did a job for one of our customers who is a major bread distributor.  The assignment was to correct a delivery error to a retailer in Oxford, replacing seven trays of unrequired loaves with seven trays of the right type.  Owing to a quirk of economics, our customer determined that the value of the misdelivered bread was less than the additional charge for returning it to the depot.  Consequently, John was told that they didn't want the bread brought back to them, "You can either have it yourself, or leave it where it is!"  With innate co-operation, John took the unwanted bread away from the retailer, who obviously didn't want it, now that he had what he'd ordered in the first place.  Having set off homeward with seventy loaves of bread, he began to wonder what he should do with them.

After calling in to his home, where he left just a few loaves for his and Dorothy's use, John decided to bring the rest to the office where they could be shared among his friends and colleagues.  As the trays were brought past me, John invited me personally to help myself.  I explained that I had need of only one small loaf at a time, since a larger one would go mouldy before I could use it all.  I only have a small freezer and that is virtually full with a variety of other things.  Once the trays were on the office floor, and the situation outlined, willing and greedy hands descended upon the loaves to bring relief to John's problem.  Out of nowhere, it seemed, supermarket carriers had appeared and large piles of bread were being accumulated on desks, behind chairs, anywhere where their new ownership could be established and maintained.

Now John is not a practising Christian, but when he saw with dismay and anger the greed that some of the staff exhibited, he was distressed and turned to me, "Can't you do something?" he stammered, "Doesn't the Church know of some poor people who might need bread?  Anyone but these greedy so-and-sos.  I wish I'd never brought it in if they're going to grab it all like that!"  I confess that, when the situation had first begun to unfold, a similar thought had flitted into my mind, but I'd let it flit out again with equal rapidity.  Only now, in the face of John's angst, did my conscience gain the upper hand, and after a quick phone call to the vicar, I was able to load the remaining two trays into my van and take them directly round to the vicarage.  By now they will be in the hands (or freezers) of needy parishioners.

As I reflected on yesterday's events in the cold light of this morning, I am shameful that, without John's prompting, Greed and Selfish Desire could have been allowed to triumph once more.  Why didn't I pay immediate attention to that worthy thought that I'd so quickly rejected as 'not my business', or 'too much trouble'?  What is it they say, "For evil to triumph it only needs good people to do nothing?"  As I give thanks today, on behalf of whoever has received one or more of those twenty loaves, for John and his generous anger, I put to you the important question, "Is there a John in your life, who may not share your beliefs, but who might be the trigger for the active expression of yours?"

What's Your Addiction?

I was at a meeting last autumn where the speaker invited his listeners to imagine addiction.  We were encouraged to exhale, and then see how long it would be before desperation forced us to breathe in again.  Not surprisingly, the room was soon filled with the sound of loud gasps as, one by one, we discovered our addiction to fresh air, to the oxygen that our bodies constantly need to keep us alive.  It was at this point that one of our number commented that we were desperate, but not in despair, and our thoughts digressed to a deeper consideration of these words, in order to see just what he meant.

Although they’re from the same root, there is a distinct difference between them: almost like cause and effect.  My dictionary defines despair as ‘the complete loss or absence of hope; a feeling of hopelessness’, while desperate is ‘reckless from despair; violent or lawless; extremely dangerous or serious; very bad; needing or desiring very much’.  In other words, while ‘despair’ is related to hope, ‘desperation’ goes far beyond this, and refers to the results of not having any hope.  So we can see that the drug addict is desperate for his next fix, and appreciate that much of the crime we see reported in the media is the expression of this desperation.  My friend’s point was simply that, while we were desperate for air, we were not without hope of getting it, because all we had to do was breathe.  Furthermore, since this was a Christian gathering, we also shared a far more serious hope, that found in our common Faith.

Our speaker’s aim had been that we should consider just how desperate we are to know God in our lives: how important His presence is to each of us.  It was suggested that if we were really desperate, then our faith would find outward expression, and the force with which we had all inhaled during our ‘test’ had proved a good illustration.  We were referred to Psalm 63, where the first eight verses give us a wonderful word picture of despair.  David was fleeing from Saul, who was hunting him down to kill him, and he yearned for the comfort of God’s protection and provision (I Sam. 23:13ff.)

Thoughts turned to what ought to be the expression of our desperation for God during the coming Advent season   As I recalled that meeting to refer to it in this article, I thought of potentially good lives that have developed in the wrong direction, ruined by the intrusive effects of addiction, and my mind went to John 15:1-4.  Are there things in our lives to which we are in some measure addicted?  Are they the right things?  We can say that we’re ‘clean’ through our underlying faith, through our regular prayer and worship, but are there distinct parts of our lives that we should be offering to the Gardener’s pruning knife?  What is making you less fruitful for God than He would like you to be?  Maybe now, as we ‘wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Saviour’ is the time to do something about it.

Shoes

With all the recent bad weather, I’ve been thinking about feet and what to put on them for a good balance between comfort, style and suitability to the conditions.  There is such variety in modern footwear, and the distinction is largely dependent upon the circumstances.  We really have to consider why shoes are worn.

Some shoes hurt your feet; you’d only wear them if there were a good reason, like impressing someone important, or for that critical photo-shoot.  Others, however, can be really comfortable; you would choose them if possible for everything, so long as they are still sound.  Such favourites probably give your feet firm support and, whether physically or psychologically, provide you with a platform for power and achievement.

Shoes act as a barrier; that can be good or bad.  If you’re walking on wet or rough terrain, for example, good footwear is important to keep out water, or to make walking on stones and hard ground easier.  On the other hand, shoes can prevent your enjoying a pleasant tactile experience, like those ghastly rubber slippers that we wore as small children when paddling (I wonder whether they are still made!) or walking barefoot on the beach and feeling the sand between your toes.

Both Moses (Ex. 3:5) and Joshua (Jos. 5:15) were told to take off their shoes – the ground, they were told, was holy.  What was this all about?  Let’s think about Moses first.  God explains that He has seen the plight of His people in Egypt, and wants Moses to go to Pharaoh to secure their release.  Moses is daunted by the prospect, but is eventually persuaded that God will provide him the strength and wisdom to fulfil the task.   Joshua is similarly challenged.  He has just led the Israelites across the Jordan and they have camped on the plains of Jericho, where the practice of circumcision, neglected over many long years, is restored.  At this point Joshua is confronted by a man who announces himself as the Commander of the Lord’s Army.  God then reveals to him the means by which he is to overcome Jericho – the famous strategy of repeated circular walks and a great shout.  In each case, our hero is reassured by these experiences that God is with him; what may seem a daunting task in mere human terms is guaranteed success, because it is endued with God’s provision and presence. 

Now, let me suggest a commitment to you, dear reader.   At least twice a day we attend to the covering of our feet, and probably many more times besides.  So, every time you put shoes on in the coming week, offer a prayer of dedication to God, asking Him to equip you with the qualities you will need for whatever challenges you are about to face.  And then, when you take them off, offer a word of thanksgiving for His constant presence in every aspect of your life.  If you find this helpful or comfortable, why not make it a permanent part of your life – a reminder of God’s presence in everything.