Smaller than a 747
I was just out of college when I took my first international flight. I had seen large aircraft before. But I was not prepared for how big it was — or for what that feeling would teach me about Philip. A reflection on John 6:1–15.
John 6:1–15
Phrases that spoke to me today:
• "Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?"
• he himself knew what he would do
• "There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?"
• they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets
Applying the Word to My Life:
The first international flight I ever took, I was just out of college. Stacey and I were heading to Europe — our first big trip together — and we had a connection through Chicago. I had flown before. I had seen large aircraft from a distance. But when I walked out to board that plane to London, I was not prepared for how big it was. The engine was large enough that I could have walked inside it. The cabin was wider than our living room. I looked out the window of the jetway and felt, in a way I had never quite felt before, how small I was.
It is a useful feeling to have. Not a comfortable one — but useful.
Philip is standing on a hillside in Galilee when Jesus turns to him and asks where they will buy bread for the crowd. John tells us, in one of those quiet editorial notes that changes everything, that Jesus already knew what he was going to do. He was not asking for a logistics update. He was asking Philip a question designed to make him feel what I felt standing next to that plane.
Philip runs the numbers. Two hundred denarii worth of bread would not give everyone a small piece. Andrew finds a boy with five barley loaves and two fish, then immediately undercuts his own observation: but what are they for so many? They are both doing the same thing — trying to solve the problem with what they can see, and arriving at the same answer. We do not have enough. We are not enough.
That is exactly where Jesus wants them.
As we draw closer to Christ, we begin to understand our own smallness more clearly, not less. This is counterintuitive. We expect that growing in faith would make us feel more capable, more equipped. What actually happens is closer to what I experienced walking up to that aircraft — the bigger the thing in front of you becomes, the smaller you feel by comparison. The closer we get to Christ, the more we realize how big He really is.
Our smallness is not the problem. The problem is what we do with it.
Most of us are wired for self-sufficiency. We want to be large enough for whatever is in front of us, capable enough to manage our own situation, sufficient to the moment. That posture is understandable. It is also the thing that Christ's presence quietly dismantles as we get closer to him. The illusion starts to crack. Philip runs his numbers. Andrew holds up five loaves and two fish. The math does not work. The only honest answer is: we are not enough for this.
At that moment we have a choice — to grip the illusion of self-sufficiency tighter, or to let it go.
Jesus takes the five loaves. He gives thanks. He distributes. Everyone eats until they are full. And when the disciples gather what is left over, they fill twelve baskets.
Twelve baskets. Not just enough — far beyond enough. More than all the smallness Philip felt, more than all the inadequacy Andrew named when he held up five loaves and two fish and asked what they were for so many. The abundance is part of the answer. God does not merely meet what we cannot. He exceeds it, with enough left over to make the point unmistakable.
This is the opening scene of a week that will carry us to the Bread of Life — to the table Jesus sets, to the meal that makes his presence real in every generation. But before we get there, we stand on the hillside with Philip, holding five loaves, doing the math, coming up short.
The question Jesus asks Philip is the one he keeps asking us: not how will you solve this — but do you understand yet how small you are, and how large I am?
The twelve baskets answer the second half of that question. The crowd is fed. The leftovers fill more than the boy started with. The disciples are left holding evidence of something they did not produce.
We are small. That is not a problem to solve — it is the beginning of the right relationship with the One who is not. The only question is whether our smallness frightens us or opens us. Whether we hold the loaves tightly, running numbers, or hand them over and wait to see what happens next.
My Response for Today:
Today I will identify one place where I am holding tightly to self-sufficiency — and offer it to God instead.