Author: Ryan Hoffer

I’ve always been an admirer of great music. Growing up in the ’80s and ’90s—a time when grunge and alternative music were roaring with nihilistic undertones—my father pointed me toward music from his era: artists like Gordon Lightfoot, Jim Croce, James Taylor, and America. That’s where I planted my musical roots and, as a result, that’s the style that has stuck with me most over the years.

However, I’ll never forget being a kid and hearing U2’s I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For for the first time. Against a backdrop of sparkling guitar lines, lead singer Bono bleakly confesses:

I have climbed highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you
I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
These city walls
Only to be with you
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for

His statement is so emblematic of our culture at large: always seeking, never finding; obsessed with meaning, and yet bereft of it; possessed with restlessness—that ineffable ailment that arose as a condition of Adam’s sin. The world seems puzzled by it, but the Scriptures have always clearly indicated its origin. Moses, cautioning the Israelites not to turn from the Word of the Lord, spoke of the spiritual disquiet that would result: “In the morning you shall say, ‘If only it were evening!’ and at evening you shall say, ‘If only it were morning!’ because of the dread that your heart shall feel…” (Deut. 28:67).

Augustine, that great theologian of the fourth century, rightly noted in his Confessions: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” We can only find rest, fulfillment, joy, peace, and purpose in the One we were created for—Jesus. He alone is capable of putting at ease the fatigue of our souls. As He said in Matthew 11:29: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

Take a moment today to thank God that you’ve found what you were looking for in Jesus.

In Matthew 11, Jesus gives a gracious invitation to the crowd, saying, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (v. 28). This rest is not simply a reprieve or deferment from labor, but rather “rest for your souls” (v. 29). But who could do such a thing? What a mighty claim! Indeed, the appeal underscores the divinity of Christ—for no one else could provide a remedy that touches beyond the natural. It is one thing to offer a man refreshment; it is another to refresh his very existence—an act that the Old Testament frequently ascribes to God alone.

And yet, Jesus’ invitation is reminiscent of remarks made about this very work. A brief survey of some Old Testament passages shows the similarities between the words of Jesus and those of God in the OT, underscoring that Jesus is, indeed, God:

• Isaiah 14:3 — When the LORD has given you rest from your pain and turmoil and the hard service with which you were made to serve.

• Jeremiah 6:16 — Thus says the LORD: “Stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls.”

• Jeremiah 31:25 — For I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish.

• Psalm 23:3 — He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

• Psalm 116:7 — Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.

It is not difficult to see, then, how Jesus’ claim to restore the souls of men is something that God alone could accomplish. Many of His hearers—Jews likely familiar with the language of the Scriptures—would have made this connection. Similarly, when we hear Jesus’ words in light of similar promises made in the Old Testament, we better understand how He is divinely qualified to be the Savior of our souls.

Be encouraged today by the fact that the One who made you and knows you is also the One who invites you to come to Him, that your soul may be refreshed.

In the Mary–Martha pericope of Luke 10, Jesus contrasts Martha’s many distractions with Mary’s singular devotion by stating that she has chosen “the good portion.” The concept is easily understood—time and affection given to the Lord are greater than busyness spent elsewhere—but the turn of phrase is of particular interest. Frequently throughout the Bible, the word portion is used to describe our inheritance as a people who belong to God. A quick survey of its use elsewhere in Scripture helps us gain a deeper understanding of Jesus’ words about Mary’s “good portion.”

In Psalm 16, David wrote about the LORD being his portion—his source of blessing, counsel, happiness, and protection: “The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot” (Psalm 16:5). This is contrasted with the sorrow of “those who run after another god” (v. 4)—in other words, those who have not chosen the Lord as their portion.

In Psalm 73, Asaph echoes David’s sentiment by declaring, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” The force of this statement is increased by the preceding verse: “There is nothing on earth that I desire besides you” (v. 25).

Reflecting on the righteous statutes and precepts of God, the author of Psalm 119 likewise proclaims, “The LORD is my portion; I promise to keep your words” (v. 57). For this reason, he is able to say, “This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life” (v. 50).

Elsewhere in the Old Testament, the LORD is described as the portion of those who follow Him:

• Lamentations 3:24 — “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

• Deuteronomy 10:9 — “Therefore Levi has no portion or inheritance with his brothers. The LORD is his inheritance, as the LORD your God said to him.”

Let us return to the story of Mary and Martha attending to Jesus with these things in mind. Recall that Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching” (v. 39), and for this reason Jesus described her as having chosen the good portion. Echoes of the Psalms come to mind—David and Asaph declaring that God alone is their source of being, their portion. Mary hadn’t merely chosen resting over working or listening over commanding—she had chosen the Lord. He was her portion, and that would never be taken from her.

Sit at the feet of Jesus today, and understand what it means to choose Him as your portion.

This week, while studying the sermon passage in Luke 10:38–42, I also decided to read some ancient commentary to familiarize myself with the history of interpretation on the famous Mary and Martha story (hence the earlier devotion on John Wesley). In doing so, I came across one of Augustine’s sermons on the passage (Sermon 53), written sometime in the fourth or fifth century. In the great Church Father’s commentary, he pointed out a detail that I had never even considered, simple as it may seem:

Therefore, the Lord answered, who was in no difficulty for words, in that He was the Word. What then did He say? “Martha, Martha.” The repetition of the name is a token of love, or perhaps of exciting attention; she is named twice, that she might give the more attentive heed.

Jesus, in His reply to Martha, calls her name twice. Augustine considers this a “token of love.” Indeed, it seems to soften His reproof. There is something endearing about the moment—almost as if the Savior overpowers the nervousness of her own heart by addressing her in a twofold manner.

Six other times in the Bible God calls someone’s name twice when addressing them: Abraham (Gen. 22:11); Jacob (Gen. 46:2); Moses (Ex. 3:4); Samuel (1 Sam. 3:10); Simon Peter (Luke 22:31); and Paul (Acts 9:4). What can be greater than to be known by the Creator of the universe and, what’s more, to be sought after in fellowship by Him?

But therein lies the astonishing fact of Christianity: that God is deeply relational. After all, it was He who said to Moses, “I know you by name.”

Take a moment today to look at some of the aforementioned biblical accounts where God calls someone by name, and reflect on the fact that He knows your name, too. Indeed, He gave you these very examples so that you would be sure of it.

On Sunday, October 24, 1790, the eighty-eight-year-old founder of the Methodist movement, John Wesley, recorded his last journal entry:

I explained to a numerous congregation in Spitalfields Church “the whole armor of God.” St. Paul’s, Shadwell, was still more crowded in the afternoon while I enforced that important truth, “one thing is needful”; and I hope many, even then, resolved to choose the better part.

Of course, the “one thing” is a reference to the words of Jesus in Luke 10:42, when He reproves Martha for her worry about many things in contrast to the one thing of importance—an audience with Him. That Wesley’s last sermon would touch on such a text is no surprise; few men in the history of Christianity have been so thoroughly devoted to the priority of evangelism.

As the founder of Methodism and a leading figure in the Great Awakening of the 18th century, Wesley is said to have traveled over 250,000 miles on horseback (the equivalent of ten trips around the earth!), often preaching three or four sermons a day. He was wont to preach on Luke 10:42 frequently, as there are at least fifty references to it throughout his journal (which is freely available online and documents his travels from 1735–1790). It is fitting, therefore, that he ended his ministry in like manner—focused on “the good portion,” in the words of the Savior.

The matter is as important to us as it was to Wesley (and to Mary, of whom it was originally said): are we anxious and troubled about many things, or have we chosen the one necessary thing—spending time with Jesus?

There’s an interesting detail in the miracle of the feeding of the 5,000 that often gets overlooked—but it’s worth pointing out that three of the four Gospel authors include it: there was rich, green grass in the area. Now, if you’re reading the narrative in isolation, the detail may seem insignificant. But when you compare it to the other accounts, the repetition helps to paint the scenery. Take a look:

• Matthew 14:19 – Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass, and taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and said a blessing.

• John 6:10 – Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” Now there was much grass in the place.

• Mark 6:39 – Then he commanded them all to sit down in groups on the green grass.

Another interesting detail is the verb sit down (Greek: anaklinó). A better translation might be “recline” or “lie down,” as it’s rendered in more literal translations. Now, you may begin to see where all of this is headed.

Jesus, the Good Shepherd (Mark even alludes to Him as a shepherd in his account—6:34), makes the people lie down in the green grass beside the water (they are, in fact, beside the Sea of Galilee), where they eat their fill, wanting for nothing.

By now, an image should be coming to mind. Psalm 23:1–3 says:

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Psalm 23 was painting a prophetic picture of this miraculous moment when Jesus feeds the multitude. And that’s really the miracle. Don’t get me wrong—the multiplication of the food is definitively miraculous—but seeing beyond the feeding and realizing that Jesus is the Good Shepherd… that’s the lesson here.

Take time today to picture the scene and to see the Good Shepherd of Psalm 23 in the feeding of the 5,000.

Christian author and apologist Greg Koukl frequently passes along this shocking tip for the growing believer: “Never read a Bible verse.” Wait—that can’t be right! Surely, he doesn’t mean that we should avoid consuming the Word of God. On the contrary, he completes this jarring declaration by suggesting, “Instead, always read a paragraph at least.” In essence, he is stressing the important role context plays in interpretation. I was reminded of this lesson this week while reading about the feeding of the 5,000 in the book of Mark.

In Mark 6:34–43, we have the account of Jesus’ multiplication miracle. After feeding the multitude with five loaves and two fish, the result is twelve baskets of leftover bread and fish! In other words, they end up with more than they started with—even after distributing the food to thousands! And don’t skip over the detail that the leftover quantity matches the number of disciples—revealing personal implications for the twelve. Truly marvelous!

Mark quickly follows this moment by narrating another miracle in which Jesus walks on water (6:45–52). However, pay close attention to how this scene ends:

Then he climbed into the boat, and the wind stopped. They were totally amazed, for they still didn’t understand the significance of the miracle of the loaves. Their hearts were too hard to take it in. (vv. 51–52, NLT)

It’s easy to read the feeding of the 5,000 and stop short—never venturing beyond the passage, and therefore missing out on details that inform the story. At least, that has been my experience. When I came across this verse ten verses later, it helped reframe the earlier miracle: the disciples hadn’t learned from it. Despite their proximity to Jesus and their witness of His power, their hearts were not attuned to what they should have been learning about the Savior.

Can you imagine seeing Jesus do something truly supernatural right before your eyes, and then later doubting His power when another testing circumstance arrives? We do this all the time! Yet Jesus is patient with us—constantly reassuring us and remaining with us through our dullness.

See how such a passing remark—ten verses and one story later—adds important contextual insight that helps us better interpret and apply the Word to our own lives? For an even greater example, relating to the same story, jump ahead two chapters and read Mark 8:14–21!

In Mark’s account of the feeding of the 5,000, the disciples start to get nervous around suppertime. They tell the Master, “Send [these people] away to go into the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat” (Mark 6:36). Jesus responds rather succinctly, saying, “You feed them” (v. 37, NLT). And He’s not joking! I can only imagine the look on their faces.

Quickly, the immediacy and helplessness of the disciples become the backdrop for the greatness of the miracle. Note that Jesus doesn’t abandon them to accomplish an impossible task, but rather He employs them in His service to bring about what He wants to accomplish. He has them “go and see” how many loaves they have (Mark 6:38). He instructs them to “have the people sit down” (John 6:10). They distribute the food among the groups (Mark 6:41). Thus, the miracle proceeds, and the disciples become co-laborers in the work.

Jesus doesn’t need our help to accomplish His work. He created the world (Col. 1:16), He has command of the heavenly host (Matthew 26:53), and He performed many miracles—including healing people who weren’t even physically present (see Mark 7:24–30). Yet He has chosen to allow us to participate in the advancement of His Kingdom. He could have fed the multitude instantaneously through supernatural means, but instead He says to the disciples, “You feed them.”

The great byproduct is that we are changed in the process, knowing Him more as we make Him known to others.

Take a moment today to thank God that He says, “You feed them,” and graciously employs us in Kingdom service.

John’s Gospel is the only account to mention that the five loaves and two fish Jesus multiplied were provided by a young boy—a detail not in contradiction, but one of added distinction (the other accounts simply do not disclose the origin of the food). In verse 9, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, says, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish.” Of course, we are not privy to the negotiation that took place between the disciples and the boy, but one can only imagine that the miracle was initiated with a charitable spirit on his part. The boy was willing to part with his food.

The story brings me back to a day when I was shopping with my 9-year-old son. As we walked through the toy aisle, he was contemplating buying something with his own money but vacillating on whether or not to do it. Knowing that he is generally conservative with his spending, I encouraged him—just this once—to go ahead and buy it. Suddenly, worry crept in, and he confessed that he wanted to, but didn’t want to lose his money. I recall telling him, “That money came from me, and I’m capable of giving you more.”

Now, I have found on more than one occasion that the Lord activates the principles of His Word in the parenting relationship with my children. Instantly, I was struck with deep conviction. My son cheerfully grabbed his toy, while I stood recovering from the existential moment in the aisle of Wal-Mart. Lesson learned.

Today, remember the boy who gave up his lunch in John 6. Not only did 5,000 people eat “as much as they wanted” (v. 11), but there were twelve baskets of food left over. Maybe it’s time we give the Lord our resources—whatever they may be—and let Him put them to work to do immeasurably more than they are currently doing.

I always find it pleasantly ironic when Jesus asks questions. How could He, who is omniscient, gain new understanding from our response? The fact is, He does not—and it is a grace, even, that the Creator would bend His ear to consider the suggestion of the created.

Such is the case in John 6:5, when Jesus asks Philip, “Where are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?” The author of the Gospel subsequently discloses our Savior’s motive in verse 6: “He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he would do.” Therefore, the disciples are prompted to take inventory—which always seems to be the result when the Lord asks questions of us.

Philip, almost scoffing at the challenge, responds with an incredulous, “Two hundred denarii worth of bread would not be enough for each of them to get a little.” To put it in perspective, a denarius was a day’s wage for a worker in Jesus’ day (Matthew 20:2). In other words, “Lord, over half a year’s salary wouldn’t be enough!”

Going one step further, Andrew finds a boy with five barley loaves and two fish, but—like Philip—remains unconvinced that anything can be done. It is after this inventory, when the disciples have noted the distance between what Jesus wants to accomplish and what they lack, that He is able to demonstrate His super-abundance.

Has the Lord asked you a question recently? In a sense, He’s asking you to take inventory—perhaps of your resources or your spiritual condition. Not that He needs to know how little or how much you have; He doesn’t. He needs you to know. In the knowing, the conditions will be met for Him to work the miracle.

Remember, “he himself knew what he would do” (v. 6).