They say the church is dying, and sometimes I wonder if they’re right. It’s Vacation Bible School time at my church, and I’m a little worried as we make our plans. Like the disciples with Jesus, I feel like I’m surrounded by many hungry people and I don’t have enough for all of us. There is so much pain in this world, so much loss. My facebook feed is filled with rants about refugees and immigrants, Israel and Palestine, pro-life advocates and feminists. Everyone seems angry, and I agree with them. My fellow parishioners are tired from our summer fundraising efforts and no one seems very enthusiastic this year. We desperately need the loving, uplifting grace of God, and all I’ve got is some construction paper, some glitter, a castle backdrop, a few crowns, and some praise songs. How can we feed them with this? It’s not enough! I’m anxious and concerned and I wonder if I have bitten off more than I can chew. We just don’t have enough. Oh, but I should have known better, O me of little faith.
Just as in the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus, in the form of the Holy Spirit, takes the small and makes it large. We build an ancient stone table from some plastic and cardboard and create a scene of sacrifice and resurrection with bean bags and firecrackers. The children arrive, and we create a feast from goldfish crackers and apple slices. Under the guidance of a patient music teacher, our wavering voices blend into a choir of praise, ringing in the miracle of Christmas with bells. Santa visits to bring the good news of great joy, and provides the water balloons, as well. With some fake fur and make-up, our priest embodies the holy lion, Aslan, in all his glory. Using cardboard shields and bubble wrap, we wage a battle, defeating the evil witch and her minions with the values of love, honesty, and courage. Children of all ages become soldiers, knights, and kings and queens of Narnia. We sing and dance and celebrate that “he has the whole world in his hands”.
In my doubts, I wondered if we could pull it off, but I should have known. I should have known that Jesus would increase and expand our limited resources, our tired spirits, our half-baked ideas into spiritual food for everyone. I feared we would not have enough energy, creativity, and patience, but I forgot that it wasn’t up to us. How could I doubt that the God who fed five thousand people from a few loaves and fishes would transform our humble efforts into the kingdom, alive in the hearts of children. The church is not dying, my friends, not this week, not at St. Ignatius of Antioch Episcopal Church.
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