There Will Be Enough

One of the hardest things in life is recognizing what we are truly hungry for. Most of us know physical hunger. We know what it feels like to skip a meal or work through lunch and suddenly realize our stomach is making all the decisions. But there are other hungers, other cravings, other longings that are much harder to satisfy. We hunger for peace in anxious times. We hunger for hope when the future seems uncertain. We hunger for purpose when life feels routine. We hunger for forgiveness after we have made mistakes.
There is a question underlying both of our readings today. It is the question that follows us through most of our lives. Will there be enough? Enough food. Enough strength. Enough time. Enough money. Enough hope. Enough health. Enough love to carry us through another difficult season. It is an old question. Isaiah heard it in the voices of people whose lives had been turned upside down. He knew something about those hungers. Speaking to people who had lost so much, people who had experienced disappointment, exile, and uncertainty, the prophet begins with an astonishing invitation: “Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters.” Then Isaiah goes even further. “You who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”
That almost sounds too good to be true. Everything in our world tells us that if you want something worthwhile, you have to earn it. Work harder. Save more. Achieve more. Prove yourself. God says something very different. Come. Not after you’ve fixed your life. Not after you’ve earned it. Not after you’ve become worthy. Simply come.
Matthew says they had followed Jesus into a deserted place. That detail jumps out at me. Not because anyone wants to be in a deserted place, but because most of us know one when we find ourselves there. Deserted places are where we find Jesus. Or perhaps it is where Jesus finds us.
Matthew says that when Jesus saw the crowd, he had compassion on them. Jesus sees them, and something within him moves toward them. The disciples, however, are looking at the same crowd through different eyes than Jesus. It is getting late. There is no food. There are too many people. Their conclusion makes perfect sense.“Send them away.”
Sometimes those are the most dangerous words WE can speak. Not because we are unkind, but because scarcity has convinced us that sending people away is the only practical answer. Just look at our world today. We say it in a hundred different ways. Someplace else will provide shelter. Someone else has more to give. We don’t have enough.
Jesus answers with words that sound almost unreasonable .“They need not go away.” Those words are easy to miss, but they capture a central message of the Gospel. “They need not go away.”
Then comes one of my favorite moments in this story. The disciples, understandably, focus on what they lack. “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” It reminds me how often prayer begins. Lord, this is all I have. I don’t have enough patient, or courage or faith. My energy is running out.
Jesus never criticizes the disciples for what they don’t have. He simply says, “Bring them here to me.” That’s the turning point. Bring what you have. Bring what you’ve got. Not what you wish you had. Not what you are wishing for. Bring your ordinary life. Bring it to Christ. Because in the hands of Jesus, ordinary things become extraordinary gifts.
Then something mysterious happens. Matthew does not explain it. He simply tells us that Jesus takes the bread, looks toward heaven, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it away. Those four simple actions become familiar to every Christian because they happen again on the night before the cross, and they happen every time we gather at the Lord’s Table. He takes. He blesses. He breaks. He gives.
Isaiah asked, “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?” That question may be even more relevant today than it was then. We spend enormous amounts of time chasing things we hope will satisfy us. None of those things are bad in themselves, but none of them can feed the deepest hunger of the human soul. Only God can satisfy the hunger beneath all our other hungers.
The Gospel doesn’t just focus on the spiritual. Jesus cares about bodies as well as souls, about daily bread as well as eternal life. Jesus invited his disciples to be partners in His generosity. He still does. We are called to be partners in his generosity. Sharing food with the lonely, visiting the homebound, gifting to the food pantry. Jesus keeps showing us that in God’s kingdom, small offerings become abundant blessings.
Today we come much like that crowd did long ago. We come carrying visible and invisible hungers - for healing, for peace, for reconciliation. Some hunger simply for strength to face another week. The good news is that the invitation has never changed. “Come, everyone who thirsts.” “They need not go away.”
Those two voices—the prophet Isaiah’s and the Savior’s—are really one invitation spoken by the same gracious God. Come to God who satisfies. Come to Jesus who feeds both body and soul. In Christ there is more than enough. Always. Thanks be to God. Amen