I wonder how it felt to the little boy who gave Jesus his lunch.

I wonder how the poor widow woman felt as she prepared the loaf for Elijah instead of for herself and her son.

I wonder how the lady felt as she dropped her whole income–one penny–into the treasury at the temple.

I wonder how Moses felt the first time God used his stick.


Sometimes the sense of helplessness comes first. The sense of smallness. Maybe even the sense of ridiculousness. But underlying all of it is a knowledge of what is right. And often a tiny, incongruous sense of hope.

And afterwards . . . A sense of wonder.

A sense of satisfaction and then curiosity and then utter amazement that could hardly find the words to speak itself.

A sense of wanting to be still and quiet for fear of breaking the silence.

And sometimes there’s just the comfortable sense of knowing one’s God after all.