I only have 5...

If all I had was 5 loaves...and I had to feed 10,000. I wonder if I would try, or find it too hard and walk away? Today i feel like i couldn't. But then there are days when i feel like i could come up with something fantastic..nothing short of a miracle! Yet today i don't. So...obviously, i can't go by how I feel from day to day, seeing that it's so flimsy. Let's look then, at my talents. Hhhmmm. I can sing, write and perform. I've been on the road all my life. So i can tour for quite some time and not feel too home sick. Not bad i guess....but with thousands of musicians in this town, with talents that far exceed mine, i would want to pass the lot off to somebody else, 'better equipped'. My 5 loaves and responsibility to feed the masses, looks near impossible. Wait, it is impossible. My instinct is to give up, to say, someone else from afar can do it. There are other's that have performed amazing things, right? There are the Billy Graham's, the Switchfoot's, the Gandhi's, the C.S.Lewis's, the Corrie Ten Boom's, the Mother Teresa's, the powerful that have done more than i could ever dream! So why then, do i find myself here? Looking out to the multitude from the stage that I'm on, the lights don't hide what i see. The sight is overwhelming. I see faces that are longing, starving for something, anything. No one is looking at me but everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, is worn, tiered and hungry.. No, they're not looking at me, 'cause all that i have is 5 small loaves. They're looking past me, looking between the lines, the melodies, the music. Hoping for something more. Everyone came to see a show, bought tickets expecting for me to sing, to take them to a place where maybe they can forget the hunger pangs. But i only have 5 loaves. My talents aren't enough. Even if i could conjure up something substantial, i can't make whatever i have multiply. I find myself helpless. Everyone has they're moment. They're opportunity to share whatever it is that's of worth to them. And only life, with its brutal storms and unforgiving winds, will tell whether what we had to share was strong enough to withhold itself, or not. So the responsibility is great. I don't know why me of all people is here... but that's not important anymore. Because I'm here. All that matter's is who my source is. Whether it can stand up to this life or not. The world is full of people searching for substance. Something that will last longer than the 'something' before. And i am no different. I am searching also. But i can't escape The Miracle Worker. The one who calls Himself love. A love that answers the longing. I think that I'll bet on Him. I'll close my eyes, lift my hands and know that what i have, is expanding and turning into thousands. And maybe it isn't me....Maybe, just maybe, it is Him. Could it be that the lack of loaves, was and is... Irrelevant? I still find myself helpless, inadequate even...but maybe finally seeing that, is the key, to making it work.