Lately I have had to come to terms with the disturbing fact that sometimes my best just simply isn’t enough. I have every good intention, but I can’t foresee the obstacles that prevent me from following through. Or, I had a kind intention that got lost in the folds of my gray matter only to resurface when the opportunity had passed. Or I just try and give and put it all on the line of pouring out and it just isn’t enough, or on time, it falls flat or falls on the floor. I’m not talking about those days when I spend too much time on social media, or when I push a thought out of my mind because I am simply being lazy. I feel as though I reach down into the deepest fold of myself and pull out only two copper coins.
I think of the widow mentioned in Mark chapter 12. Her old, tattered clothes covered her tired body as she quietly shuffled up to give her offering. Maybe she hoped no one saw her, but she could hear the whispers. Maybe she had eyes so full of love for God that she barely noticed the scoffers. How easy it would have been for her to justify not giving her last two coppers. But she wanted to bless and in return, she received a blessing. Words of affirmation from the Prince of Peace.
Maybe the crowd is pressing in on me and I look into my little basket of self and realize I have barely enough for me. I think of the little lad mentioned in John chapter 6. Maybe his mother sent him with provisions for the disciples. Five loaves and two fish, it would have barely been enough for Jesus and the twelve to eat. I wonder if the little boy hesitated because his little meal was never meant to feed a multitude. But that’s the wonderful quality of children: they give with joy and often with abandon. They aren’t self-conscience even if they are giving a scribbled picture or a wilted flower.
So why do I feel so deflated and even frantic when I realize that what I have isn’t really enough? Maybe I’m trying to be too self-sufficient. Maybe I have forgotten that the God of this universe needs only His powerful words to create and bring things into existence. I am meant to live and move and breathe in Him and with Him. I’m not meant to be the god of my own universe.
What I have, it’s not enough
But it feels like security
Just enough,
barely enough for me.
Yet my heart burns
My hands yearn
A fire in me to give.
But voices cry out
Some start to shout
that it might be too good to believe.
What I have is too small
to meet the need
And then I’ll have nothing
left for me.
Surely someone in this multitude
brought better food
than me
And yet, I hear my small voice ring out
a tiny nervous shout,
“Take mine.”
My heart beats wild,
I’m just a child
Surely You’ll start laughing at me.
Then something unexpected,
I’m not rejected.
You smile and receive what I give.
Then You do something I’ll never forget
as long as I live
You look toward heaven
You give thanks and then
You begin to break:
You’re breaking my mind
You’re breaking the rules
And You’re breaking the walls all down
You’re breaking the fish
You’re breaking the loaves
And You just keep on passing around.
You didn’t make me to fill all the holes
or master playing all the roles
But to live with an open hand
And I try to understand
That
You
are
Enough.
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