I Want To Be That Boy

I want to be that boy.  You know the one.

He brought a meager lunch with him. Just a few pieces of dry bread and a bit of protein. He must have heard the grown-ups talking. People were hungry. There were lots and lots of them in the gathering crowd. So many, that they only counted the men.  Five thousand. And that didn’t include him. He was just a boy, after all.

They were all there for the same reason. They wanted to hear with their own ears and see with their own eyes what had been the buzz in the marketplace. People were talking about this man. He was doing things that no one had seen before. People were being healed. People were being comforted. People’s hearts were filled with words that had never been spoken before. They came to hear more. They were hungry. They wanted fed.

This boy must have heard them talking. It was getting late. How will all of these people get food. There were just too many. The man named Phillip said it would take eight months of wages to attempt to feed them, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

The boy probably looked inside the pouch that he had with him. It wasn’t much. Just the cheapest grain made into small loaves. A couple of small fish. Really just enough for his lunch.

I am guessing God was leading this young lad. He showed what he had to Andrew. Maybe he thought that if everyone brought what they had it could stretch and at least help out.

I wonder if that boy knew his giving heart would fill up maybe twenty-thousand people. I wonder how he felt when the miracle took place. Everyone ate. Everyone was filled. And the leftovers filled up twelve baskets. One for each of the men with Him.

I want to be that boy. I want to give what I have, meager as it is. I want to see how He takes what I have and turns it into something so amazing, that people will talk about it for centuries.

Let me be that boy. Let me bring my offerings—small and insignificant as they are.

Let Him use what I have for His mighty plans.

I want to be that boy.