The Good Old Days…

I’ve been around ministry long enough to be nostalgic for things that happened in the past, have you? One time I was part of a small group that used to feed homeless people on Saturdays in a park. Now, we were the kind of group that believed it is better to seek forgiveness than to get permission, so we were set up on a Saturday afternoon underneath a covered pavilion. We had been doing this for awhile and had developed a reputation for providing some very good food.

This particular weekend was rainy. I know, very unusual for Southern California. As one of the leaders of the group I began to panic when I saw that about 300 people had lined up. We had igloo coolers full of stew and chili and lots of other good stuff, but I was sure there was not enough food. I was in the serving line ladling out some outstanding potato based stew with big chunks of meat. I had been at it for some time.

Here’s the way it worked. The guest would hand me their bowl, I would lift the cover just enough to scoop my ladle into the stew. Out would come the steaming stew. It wasn’t long before I noticed that every time I ladled out a serving there was a large chunk of meat in it. This seemed unusual. I mean, I should have missed once in a while, right?

I opened up the lid and noticed I had used up about 40% of the contents. I stirred the contents and was not able to come up with pounds of meat. Fewer than 40% of our guests had been served, so I had reason for concern, but I commented to one of my fellow servers, "Wow, this is the meatiest stew I have ever served."

The line continued processing. I continued ladling. The meat continued plopping into the bowls. I didn’t lift the lid again until every one had been served. When I did lift it, there was still about 20% of the stew remaining.

Not only did we serve that overflow crowd. We sent the leftovers to a shelter for abused women and 24 more adults had food that Saturday. It wasn’t loaves and fishes, but our entire group was convinced that God had multiplied the food and fed those people that afternoon. As we sat around a restaurant table afterwards sharing our experience, we couldn’t keep from smiling and shaking our heads. The New Testament had come alive in our own lives! Wow…

I was reminded of this story as I read a post on my friend Scott Bane’s site. He is planting a church in northwest Indiana. As I looked at his post I realized that he is living through his "good old days" right now. And then, as I thought about Scott and his family, the Holy Spirit quickened in my heart that he has some more "good old days" for me to live in…Wow!