Prepositions

“How can one feed these people with bread here in this desolate place?”

That’s how the disciples responded to Jesus when He observed that the four thousand-plus crowd of His followers was hungry.

Actually, He didn’t simply observe that they were hungry. What He actually said was, “I have compassion on the crowd, because they have been with me now three days and have nothing to eat. And if I send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way. And some of them have come from far away” (Mark 8:2).

The disciples’ first response was, basically, “Well, what do you want us to do about it, Jesus? There ain’t nowhere to get bread out here. We can’t even bake it. We have nothing with us. What are we supposed to do?”

I mean, I don’t know if the disciples were sarcastic guys, but I have to imagine that they might’ve been here, just a little. The place they were was desolate. That means it was in the middle of nowhere, inaccessible, the country. People had walked a very long time to get there. (Which begs the question, why didn’t they bring lunch? Maybe they did, but I guess they didn’t expect to be so impressed with Jesus that they stayed three days. The PB & J was long gone by then.)

But the disciples were missing the point here. Jesus didn’t say, “Go get some bread for these folks!” He said, “I have compassion on them. They have come a long way to be with me.”

And He was ready to feed them.

Are you in the crowd? Are you drawn so far out into the wilderness that you have to depend upon Jesus to feed you?

If so, just so you know: He has compassion on you. And He will take the seven little loaves you have and make them enough to feed thousands.

I always say this is my favorite chapter of Mark because, less than a score of verses later, the disciples are sitting around talking about how they don’t have any bread.

Um….

I mean, now that I think about it, I guess they had given all they had to the people. But there were seven basketsful left. And Jesus had done this breaking-bread miracle another time before. So as they sat around talking about their lack of bread, He said, “Do you not yet understand?”

In case you didn’t catch that, it was a rhetorical question.

And it’s a question Jesus has to ask me again and again. Praise be to Him, though, because I think that after all this time, I am beginning to understand.

I have been finding over the past few weeks that there’s just not much to me. I reach the end of my own strength sooner than I thought. (Surprise, right? There’s nothing like working 10 hours a day to cure you of your unrealistic perspective.)

Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.—Hebrews 4:14-15

That means Jesus was with me when I got lost going to the DMV today; and he was with me, feeling my pain, as I stood in line for an hour, only to find out that I didn’t have the proper documents. (What up, Virginia? Put it on the website!) Jesus was there when I cried out and sobbed in my car for a pathetically long time last Saturday. He was there this week when I was angry or tired.

He is with me right now as I am sitting here terrified to fly by myself next weekend—terrified of making a mistake and ending up in Ohio or something.

Jesus was tempted to be afraid sometimes. But where I fail and give in to the sin of anxiety, He is strong. He has been tempted in every respect as I am—and more.

I know that He looks on me now with compassion, saying, “She has followed me out to this desolate place, and if she goes home, she will faint on the way.” I know He is faithful to act on His compassion, because the little crumbs of bread I have had—a few minutes stolen to study the Word and pray—have been fruitful beyond my expectation, when I have come to Him with a true heart, seeking.

Jesus feeds me with His spirit, if I will stop complaining about how I have no bread for long enough to chew.

I am the Lord your God, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt. Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.—Psalm 81:10

He ransomed me. He paid a priceless bride-price to marry the church. He will feed us.

The Israelites often failed at opening their mouths (to receive food, anyway). This week, I read Jeremiah.  Jeremiah was this sad little guy who had to go tell the Israelites that they were sinning against God by worshipping foreign gods. (I bet he felt pretty desolate most of the time.) Through him, God told the people, “for my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13). Then He asked a question (another rhetorical one, actually): “Have you not brought this upon yourself by forsaking the Lord your God, when he led you in the way?” (Jeremiah 2:17).

He led us out here; He’ll provide for us. It’s that simple. Don’t dig your own cistern. It’ll just be a fruitless pit for you to fall into. If you don’t turn to Jesus for your bread, you’re guaranteed to build a broken cistern. By the same token, if you do turn to Him, you’ll have seven basketsful leftover—no matter how “desolate” your location is.

This week has been much better, but last week was really stressful. I was angry because I felt that my job was sucking down 25 hours of my day away and grabbing greedily for more. And, really, as far as the DMV is concerned, I was mad today because I felt that my Saturday had been wasted, and it was somebody else’s fault. In other words, my time was so valuable that I had a right to be furious at the state of Virginia for messing it up.

The pastor I heard last week said, “If there is anything you think you need in addition to Jesus, the devil is probably using it right now to steal your joy.”

Ouch. He said if we don’t know what it is we think we need in addition to Jesus, we should look and see what is causing us stress and anxiety. Then he asked people who felt stressed to raise their hands.

I had to raise my hand.

Apparently, I think I need “my” time in addition to Jesus. (What I need it for, I’m not sure.) The cistern I keep trying to dig is this perfect schedule that I control completely. And it doesn’t give water; it only steals my joy.

To take us back to elementary grammar, I’ve been thinking in personal pronouns: I, me, mine. For a little while, I have forgotten about prepositions.

A quick run through Colossians chapter one: …He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins…and in him all things hold together…For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell...the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory….

And Ephesians chapter one: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing…even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him….In him we have redemption through his blood…according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight, making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him…In him we have obtained an inheritance….so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit…

When we feel lost, and when we feel isolated, we must try to remember where we are. And we get there by following the prepositions.

Psalm 23:4 says, I will fear no evil, for you are with me….

I have felt very homesick and alone at various times over the past few weeks. Jesus has been the only one with me in my hardest moments on my hardest days. And God is even more than “with” me by the amazing power of Jesus. He is “in.”

We are not in some “perfect life,” or in our future, or in our past. We are not wandering around in fantasies; and we are not even really in time, actually.

And we are not “in this desolate place” either, beloved.

Here is the beautiful, splendid, ever-amazing gospel: we are IN HIM.

We exist in an entity Who is not constrained by all the little bits of time and physicality that concern us, that upset us, that cause us anxiety, that ruin our days, that make us sit around and talk about how hungry we are.

My time is not important. (Still wrapping my head around this one….) It’s His time, because everything I think, do, and am is in Him.

And maybe I don’t understand that all the way right now. Maybe I’m not sure how not to fall face-first into my cistern. But I know that He who has begun a good work in me will be faithful to complete it (no matter if I have to stand in the DMV line all day). In this I have faith: that over the next few weeks, months, and years, I will burrow much further into the arms of Jesus than I ever have before. I know because He has been drawing me closer by the day, patiently, for my whole life. Glory to God: I won’t faint on the way. He will provide me with spiritual nourishment. My soul will have something to eat, no matter where I am.

By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us his Spirit.—1 John 4:13

There are no qualifiers in that statement. This is how we know, says John: His Spirit is in us. By the Spirit’s miraculous power, Jesus multiplies our loaves of bread.

And John just may have known something about that.