“I think you should share your peanut butter & jelly,” I told her. (I didn’t really say ‘peanut butter & jelly’–but for the sake of this post, we’ll call it that.)
“But I don’t want to share my peanut butter & jelly,” she said. “I don’t think people like peanut butter & jelly. I’d rather keep it to myself.”
I understood what she meant. If I had to choose between lobster cakes with saffron sauce and peanut butter & jelly… well, she had a point.
“I think each of us should share something,” I argued. “And if you’re like me–someone who has never even tasted peanut butter & jelly–you have no business reaching in someone else’s lunch to share it. But, you? You’re a peanut butter & jelly expert!”
I had her there. I had her thinking.
Then she sighed again. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “There are others who have eaten a lot more peanut butter & jellies than I have,” she said, resisting again. “Maybe I’m not qualified.”
“Look,” I said. “You’ve got to take inventory of your ‘lunch’. What has God given you to share with others? The boy with the fish and the loaves may not have wanted to share his lunch either. He may have said, ‘But what if people don’t like fish & bread?’ Yet fish & bread are what he had, so that’s what he shared. And God multiplied it to meet the needs of a multitude!”
I don’t know if my friend will choose to share her ‘peanut butter & jelly’ with her friends, family, or even a wider audience. Some things are too painful to share, really. But our interchange made me think–about her, and me, and all of us. God has entrusted each of us with a ‘lunch’. We didn’t pack it. (We would have packed the lobster cakes.) But perhaps God packed our lunches with someone else in mind–the person who is waiting for us to share.
What do you have in your lunch? What if you placed it in God’s hands? What if he multiplied it and used it to fill others?