“And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.” —Matthew 14:20

The feeding of the 5,000 has to be in the top 5 miracles performed by Jesus during his earthly ministry. As I was rereading the verses today, what stood out to me was the placement of this story in Matthew’s Gospel. The account begins with Jesus hearing that his cousin John the Baptist has been killed by Herod. After hearing this terrible news, Jesus gets in a boat and heads off because he wants to be alone. Unfortunately for Jesus what seems to happen regularly happens again, and people get wind of where he’s headed and follow after him. Jesus’ time for solitude is put on hold as he begins healing the crowd and will go on to perform this amazing miracle.

As someone who cherishes the opportunity for solitude, I can’t help but feel convicted by Jesus’ response to this interruption. Rather than being irritated by it, he looks at those in the crowd and has compassion on them. We don’t read anything in the text that makes us think he’s doing it begrudgingly. Jesus isn’t making a show out of it so people recognize that he’s doing them a favor. He just begins to heal and tops it off with the astounding miracle of feeding the crowd with what little his disciples bring to him.

Jesus steps out of the boat and starts healing because he’s looking at the crowd through his Father’s eyes. His first priority each day is nurturing that relationship. By doing that, Jesus can weather the interruption and use it to bring glory to his heavenly Father. Today, let’s do the same and look with hopeful anticipation at the inevitable interruptions that await.

Today’s reflection is written by Deacon Karen Katamay.

“God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” —Colossians 1:27

The mystery of God. How much do you feel you know about God and God’s will? When Job thought he had all the answers, God responded with a long lecture about how little Job actually did know or understand (see Job, chapters 38-41).

In my Lutheran theology class at seminary, we learned about Luther’s theology of the Hidden God vs. the Revealed God. Luther explained that God reveals himself to us through Jesus and through the words in the Bible, but God’s glory and majesty and wisdom are much greater than we could ever fully comprehend, so a part of God and God’s will for people and creation will always be beyond our understanding.  

Jesus once told his disciples that he spoke in parables because most people would not bother to try to fully understand what he was saying or even ask for an explanation. They were not like little children who love stories and love to learn; they had closed their minds to what Jesus was trying to reveal to them. Only those, such as the disciples, who stayed close to Jesus and listened to his teachings could even begin to understand. And even then the disciples would have to ask Jesus, “What does this mean?”

We are fortunate that God sent Jesus so we could even begin to understand. And every time we read the Bible, listen to a sermon, or attend a Bible study, a little bit more understanding is revealed to us. Yes, part of God’s will and God’s nature will always be a mystery to us. But we can relish in what we do know—the glory and hope that is revealed to us through Christ. Amen.

“There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” —Luke 15:7

I have a list of missing items. As of this moment, it contains three items: (1) the sixth Harry Potter book, (2) a condenser microphone, and (3) some black Nike basketball shorts I had when I was in eighth grade. Given that I’ve already read the missing book and outgrown the missing shorts (probably, although given how baggy my clothes were in 1999-2000, it’s possible the shorts would now be too big rather than too small), it’s not such a bad list. My frustration comes less from really needing the missing items and more from the unanswered question of where on earth these things could have gone.

In Luke 15, Jesus tells three parables about missing items: a missing sheep, a missing coin, and a missing son. Tucked in the center of this chapter is today’s verse, which makes explicit the point of the story: God is all about restoring lost people to his family.

If I were to find my missing book, mic, and shorts, I would be thrilled. I wouldn’t be angry at the book for having been lost in the first place. I’d just be happy to put it on the shelf where it belongs.

With people, however, we sometimes have competing emotions about those who haven’t found their way. Too often, we spend our mental energy making unhelpful comparisons with other people, building ourselves up by condemning others. “I may not be perfect, but I would never do that,” we think. Because we get a sick pleasure from these comparisons, there’s a part of us that doesn’t really want people to get their lives on track. And if they do, we comfort ourselves with the fact that we never sank to the depths that they previously inhabited.

But this attitude ends up getting us all off track. Because the God of heaven and earth is all about the restoration of lost people. In fact, the most dangerous situation is the one in which we imagine that we ourselves don’t need restoration. When we think we’re not in need of restoration and redemption, we cut ourselves off from the power of the God who longs to find us and heal us.

So may we celebrate with heaven that even people as lost as we are can be found!

Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. Hebrews 13:8

Lately I’ve been wondering, at what point does a kid understand that the world existed before they did? Do babies/small children just assume that adults have forever existed at this exact height, age, etc.? Then I wonder, when they do comprehend that fact, is it a mind-blowing experience? 

I’m wondering this because as an adult, I regularly get dizzy when I pause and think about the age and scope of the universe. It gets even crazier when I think it in the context of today’s verse. That God has just always…been. That God just always will…be. 

The writer of Hebrews has been outlining that Jesus isn’t a new creation or a new addition to God’s plan. He’s a fresh revelation of the same God who promised long ago to conquer sin and put the world back together.

This permanence of God is what allows us to live in the confident hope that there is no struggle we face that can outlast God. Jesus always has been. Jesus always will be.  

Today’s reflection is written by Deacon Karen Katamay.

“Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared and a light shone in the cell. He tapped Peter on the side and woke him, saying, ‘Get up quickly.’ And the chains fell off his wrists.”  —Acts 12:7

When I think of the apostles, especially Peter and Paul, who were willing to risk imprisonment to spread the gospel, I can’t help but feel a little bit ashamed. I don’t have anyone threatening to throw me in prison for telling people about Christ, and yet I find I can sometimes be hesitant to do so if I sense that the person I am talking to might react badly. I have no problem talking about Christ with other Christians, but what about strangers? Or even non-believing friends and acquaintances? I sometimes find myself falling back to “well, they will know I am a Christian by my actions” when I could be sharing about Jesus.

But if I really want the light of Christ to shine through to all people, I need God to help me break out this self-made prison I have created. This place where I have locked up God’s message inside of me, hiding it from others. I need God to tap me on my side and wake me up. I need God to use me as a mirror so that when he shines his light on me, I can reflect it back on others. 

So, dear God, break me out of my self-made prison and make me courageous and fearless to spread your word. Shine your light upon me, release me from my chains, and set me on your path. For surely your message of salvation, love, and grace are worth sharing! Amen.