In the 1988 Olympics, the world assumed that the United States would be victorious in the 400-meter relay. They simply were the best. The gun cracked and they were off and running. After the last curve the unthinkable happened. The United States was ahead by 10 meters with no real competition in sight. And then, with victory in their grasp, it happened. They dropped the baton. The thousands in the stands gasped in disbelief. The United States team--sleek, muscular, and fast as leopards, lost the race. Why? Someone dropped the baton.
I would hate for us as a church to be the people who dropped the baton. What is God calling us to be and to do as God's people in this time and this place? It's not a question of resources but a question of faith.
Only one miracle made it into all four gospels. It transpired on the grassy hills by the shores of the Sea of Galilee at a time when Jesus' popularity--and also his vulnerability--was cresting. Wherever he went, a throng that included many deranged and afflicted trailed behind.
The day before the big miracle, Jesus crossed the lake to elude the masses. Herod had just executed John the Baptist, Jesus' relative, his forerunner and friend, and Jesus needed time alone to grieve. Doubtless, John's death provoked somber thoughts of the fate awaiting him.
Alas, there would be no secluded retreat. A huge swarm of yesterday's multitude made the ten-mile journey around the lake and soon hundreds, even thousands of people clamored around Jesus. "He had compassion on them," says Mark, "because they were like sheep without a shepherd." Instead of spending the day renewing his spirit, Jesus spent it healing the sick, always an energy drain, and speaking to a crowd large enough to fill a modern arena.
The issue of food came up. What to do? There are at least five thousand men, not to mention the women and children! Send them away, suggested one disciple. Buy them dinner, said Jesus. What? Is he kidding? We're talking eight months' wages!
Then Jesus took command in a way none of them had seen before. Have the people sit down in groups of fifty, he said. It was like a political rally--festive, orderly, hierarchical--exactly what one might expect from a Messiah figure.
Unavoidably, we moderns read Jesus' life backwards, knowing how it turns out. That day, no one but Jesus had a clue. Murmurs rustled through the group on the packed hillside. Is he the one? Could it be? In the wilderness, Satan had dangled before Jesus the prospects of a crowd-pleasing miracle. Now, not to please a crowd but merely to settle their stomachs, Jesus took two salted fish and five small loaves of bread and performed the miracle everyone was waiting for.
Three of the Gospels leave it at that. "They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish," reports Mark with masterful understatement. Only John tells what happened next. Jesus got his time alone, at last. As the disciples rowed back across the lake, fighting a storm all the way, Jesus spent the night on a mount, alone in prayer. Later that night he rejoined them by walking across the water.