Breaking Thanks

Look up. Look at the thousands that are hungry. Look and hear them. How they need Him. Mothers, fathers, children, teachers, elders, church members. Bitter gossips and over-workers and seekers and the young and the old.

“You feed them.” We always hear this call. We’re mothers. “What’s for dinner Mom?” You feed them, you feed them, you feed them. Like a repeated call that crushes our reserves. Especially during the holidays - when we feel that we’re the pie cut into too many slivers.

“With what, Lord?! I’m charred and empty!” The honest soul cries.

“What do you have? Go and see.”

“This what I have, Lord. What is that for so many?”

“Bring it here. Your faith, small as it is. Bring it here.”

Looking up to heaven, He gave thanks. Before the miracle. Before what they brought was broken down again and again, and given out over and over again. He paused.

Then, then He broke the bread and fish and they distributed it to the people. There were leftovers. Plenty, a bounty of leftovers. They had lack — He brought abundance.

In the middle of the need, the grinding hard days of work and weariness and kids fighting and people needing. The loneliness, the isolation, and the rush. In the middle of all the thousands of needs, He paused to give thanks for what they had. God gave thanks for the little the disciples had. He gives thanks for what you have too.

Oh Lord, help me lift my eyes today. To see the fields ready for harvest, to see what little I have. You are here with me. Thanking the Father for what I have. Help me raise my hands and give thanks with You for the little I have. Help me bring it here and give thanks for:

sun in the windows.

foaming soap tabs in lovely scents.

steaming sweet potato and fried eggs.

a man that partners with me — whatever you bring, he’s game.

physical health. I can run, run down my street!

that friend that fills my soul — what would I do without her?

a house full of people that I love that drive me nuts.

a house full of people I love.

a house full of people.

a house.

Oh, a home.

And on and on. Tiny treasures. Big blessings. Crumbly, salty, tender morsels from Your hand. Fish and loaves. We don’t have enough to feed the thousands, but we have our hands full. Lift it up — and thank Him today. A moment to jot down a list. A quiet breath prayer of gratitude on the commute.

Lord, let me enter Your gates with praise today. I’ll tell You what I have. I’ll bring it here. Arms full of wonder for what You have given me. And when I see all the needs — the hunger around me —- and You say, “You feed them”, and when I, shaking and bewildered, confess — “With what??”

Let me, broken, bring it. Feel You take what fills my hands. Let me hear the “thank yous” slip from my mouth one by one as I hand them over. Breaking my heart — I don’t have enough. I know.

Soon, I am on my knees. Here’s another thing. Thank you. Cracked, weary, worn. Gratitude that costs. Gratitude that chips away at my fear. Gratitude like water from the rock. Gratitude that breaks me open to wonder.

I’m breaking thanks. Breaking through all the fear and doubt. Slow, seeping, and building, it is a flood.

How You have blessed! How did I forget?

Oh and this…and this…and this. Handing it over to the hands that hold it all. He will break it down. He will pass it out. He will fill me up and burden me with leftovers. Twelve baskets full of thanks.

Abundance.

Weary friend, may you break thanks today.

(See Mark 6:30–44)