The Good News Is…Together, the Impossible Is Possible
On the Third Sunday in Lent, we reflected on Mark’s account of the feeding of the five thousand and Paul’s reminder in Ephesians that God is able to accomplish far more than we can ask or imagine. In a world shaped by scarcity and fear, Christ invites us to discover what becomes possible when gifts are shared in community.
Before there was amplification, there was community.
Jesus feeds the five thousand in a way that is both miraculous and deeply communal. The disciples see a vast crowd, a late hour, and limited resources. Their conclusion is simple: there is not enough. Not enough food, not enough money, not enough capacity. But Jesus refuses to let scarcity have the final word. Instead, he tells them, “You give them something to eat.”
That command is as unsettling now as it must have been then. Jesus does not deny the reality of the need. He does not pretend the problem is smaller than it is. But he also does not allow the disciples to remain spectators. He invites them into the work. He asks them to participate in the miracle.
That is part of the good news of this story: in Christ, God’s abundance becomes real not only through divine power from above, but also through shared human participation below. Voices carry the word. Hands pass the bread. Communities discover together that the impossible is possible.
This week, I found myself reflecting on that truth through the idea of amplification. Our church is currently considering replacing aging audio equipment in the sanctuary, and it got me thinking about how Jesus spoke to enormous crowds without microphones, speakers, or soundboards. He had no modern tools of amplification. Instead, his message was carried by people.
Maybe that is how good news has always traveled best: from person to person. A word spoken here, repeated there. A phrase caught by one listener and passed on to another. Before there was electronic amplification, there was community. In a very real sense, Jesus’ followers became his amplifiers.
The same is true in the feeding of the five thousand. Jesus could have acted alone. He could have dropped a feast from heaven into the crowd’s laps. But he chose not to. He chose to involve the disciples. He chose participation over spectacle. He chose a kingdom in which people are not passive consumers, but active participants in grace.
That matters because the disciples’ posture is one we know well. It is the posture of scarcity. There are too many people. It is too late in the day. We do not have enough. And yet Jesus looks at the very same situation and sees something else entirely: a community that has not yet realized what is possible when people bring what they have and place it in God’s hands.
A year ago, our own congregation faced a version of that same question. We were discerning whether to convert the youth lounge into a temporary homeless shelter for women over the summer. The questions were practical and understandable: Do we have enough space? Enough volunteers? Enough money? Enough flexibility? Enough energy?
Those were not foolish questions. But beneath them was a more spiritual one: if we open what we have to others, will there still be enough left for us?
That is exactly the question that lingers in Mark 6. The disciples see the math of insufficiency. Jesus sees the possibility of shared abundance. “You give them something to eat,” he says. In other words: bring what you have, offer it together, and trust that in God’s hands, shared gifts can become more than enough.
By God’s grace, that is what our church discovered. We took the leap. We opened our doors. We welcomed our neighbors. And we found that when we placed what we had into Christ’s hands, God provided every space, volunteer, resource, and bit of courage we needed.
That is the promise echoed in Ephesians 3:20–21: God is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine by the power already at work within us.
I also shared about Sand River Community Farm in Keeseville, New York, where food is grown and shared not as a commodity, but as a gift. There, neighbors work together not for wages or profit, but so that others may eat. They do not speak of “free” food, because “free” can imply something without value. Instead, they speak of food as gift—something precious, cultivated through labor, care, and community.
Their witness asks a challenging question: What if we stopped believing the lie of scarcity? What if we saw food, money, time, compassion, and even our voices not merely as possessions to protect, but as gifts to share?
Jesus says, “You give them something to eat.”
Not just you watch.
Not just you admire.
You give.
You carry.
You pass it along.
The good news is not just that Jesus once fed a hungry crowd long ago. The good news is that Christ still confronts our fear of not-enough. Christ still teaches communities to speak a different word: a word of gift, a word of mercy, a word of enough.
And that word still travels through people.
Through voices.
Through bodies.
Through neighbors.
Through communities willing to trust that, together in Christ, the impossible is possible.
There is enough for all: enough food, enough housing, enough healthcare, enough mercy.
Together, the impossible is possible.
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