When extraordinary is ordinary.

What looks like a miracle is looking from our perspective.

I mean, on my own, I cannot heal people. I can encourage them, which can feel good, but I can’t touch people and make them well. I cannot feed huge groups of people without cooking. I cannot waterski without a boat, without moving fast. I cannot look into the eyes of a man pounding a nail into my wrist and then say, “Forgive this man because he is clueless.”

No amount of mustering positive thoughts can let me do these things. So I don’t even think about doing these things.

I am a creative guy. I think outside the box. When faced with a challenge, where other people might say, “There’s no way we have the resources to do that,” I start looking around for what we have. I say, “Look, here’s what we’ve got. It won’t even begin to cover the need, but it’s what we’ve got.” But I don’t tend to think of miracles because they are, well, miracles.

Jesus, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to see the line between miracles and normal as a significant line. Sure, he knows that we do, that it’s something to get our attention. But it’s not like he has to muster up huge amounts of energy and practice really hard.

It’s kind of like Julia Child and Jacques Pepin inviting you over for supper. It’s as easy for them to make something exquisitely French as to make toast. So making one or the other isn’t about how hard it is for them, it’s about how healthy it is for you.

When it came to feeding a huge crowd with no town nearby, Philip thought cost. Andrew thought limited resources. Jesus thought “fish sandwiches for everyone.”

He still thinks that way.

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