He noticed

by David Butler

When I imagine the widow walking through the temple, I see her with her head slightly bowed.

 It is not heavy with shame, but rather meekly fixed on her destination.  Her hand reverently drops the coins into the treasury–the muted sound barely bouncing off the stone walls. "And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury:"

Not even the faithful disciples noticed the offering.

But He did; and perhaps He had a lesson to teach.  A reminder, really, of a truth that would carry them in future days.

The day was far passed.  The twelve, the Master, and throng of thousands had gathered to a desert place.  They had not noticed the sun inching its way to the distant horizon.  Souls were filled to overflowing, but hunger came anyway.

"Give ye them to eat," He suggested. "And they say unto him, 'Shall we go and buy two hundred pennyworthof bread, and give them to eat?'" There was not enough.   There would never be enough.  These were common folk without much to offer.

"How many loaves have ye? go and see." A meager meal awaited the closest disciples, but even that would leave them wanting through the night.  The counting didn't take long.

Five loaves.

I wonder if embarrassment lead to wonder.  Perhaps in weaker men it would have even bordered on cancerous pride.  Companions to the Creator left without substance?  They would have to turn the people away.

The miracle that followed would provide an anchoring memory for these men of Galilee. Go ye into all the world the angels said.

How can fishermen, tent makers, and tax collectors build the kingdom of God? How could they be ambassadors for Jesus.  They had so little to offer.  They would never be enough.

But maybe on a particularly difficult evening, when the weight of the world rested on their shoulders, and questions piled up more than answers, and they sensed desperately how much they lacked–they would remember baskets filled with remnants.

They would remember the curious tug on their hearts when they placed small barley loaves into His hands.  All five.

Perhaps they will recall what they felt as He blessed them so graciously.

The Savior simply wants our heart.  Whatever we have to offer will result in abundance.  5 loaves. 2 mites. 3 hours. An extra to spare.  It is enough.  You are enough.