The Lasagna Multiplication Miracle
I briskly climbed the crumbling steps of the century-old church building. I carried an armful of blankets as I fought against the wind and snow flurries of the winter day. The man in front of me opened the heavy, weather-worn wooden door, and I walked into the church.
The old building, with its hardwood floors and antique pews, was being used for a different purpose today. My excitement grew as I looked about the room. Some volunteers had arrived earlier and fueled the old stove that sat in the corner of the church. I smelled the wood burning in the woodstove, which worked hard to produce the needed heat, in spite of the cracks in the old building that allowed gusts of wind to enter.
I loved the church building the first time I saw it. The white-siding church had a steeple that was taller than the surrounding trees. The building had been used for a school at one time, and it had outside plumbing and even a well-cared-for cemetery next to it.
On this particular day, our group would be offering clothes, food, and prayers for the people in this poverty-stricken community twenty-five miles from the nearest town.
Clothes hung in rows according to sizes. Shoes and boots lined the wall, standing like soldiers, ready to be moved out. Boxes of food were organized according to family sizes, and frozen turkeys and hams were outside in a trailer.
A table was set up to provide food to the volunteers before their day of distribution work began.
It would be a long day.
Being accepted in this community had been difficult. The folklore and superstitions of many of the residents surrounded everything they did and even how they thought. They were people who didn’t attend a church for various reasons. They did not trust people, and accordingly, they were quick to take offense.
During the summer, our small mission team had repaired roofs and insulated some of the weather-beaten homes. The children went with us and helped clean people’s yards. The mission of the group was to show love and take Jesus to the streets—not asking them to come to church, just showing His love.
We learned about family feuds that continued. The newer generations didn’t even know the reasons for the feuds, but still joined them willingly.
Some of the people desired a Bible study but did not feel comfortable going to the church, so a home group was started. These people felt more comfortable in the houses of their neighbors than in a church building, so that is where the pastor started.
But we wondered how many would come today—would they accept what we could give them? Would they come to the church that had stood in their community for over a hundred years, and receive food and clothing from a group of people they were unsure of? Would we be good representatives of Christ?
The fifteen volunteers were all ages, and the young children were enthusiastic about the day. A box of stuffed toys was set out, plus a box of games, jump ropes, and balls. The children sorted through the collection, making fun comments. The volunteers would give out the toys if children came.
We’d placed a notice of the event at the one gas station in the area. Word of mouth was still the most effective way to advertise what was happening. The community seemed to have an efficient grapevine. In fact, just one negative word from one of the leaders in the community could nullify our efforts.
We all gathered for prayer two hours before the doors were to open. We had everything organized and ready, so we set a table for our lunch. We figured we’d get our meal out of the way and clean up before any of the townsfolk arrived.
We’d made one large pan of lasagna, which gave us twenty servings. I figured that would be just enough to serve fifteen people, since a few would want second helpings. At least I hoped it would be enough. The wonderful scent of noodles, meat, cheese, and sauce had already aroused our appetites, and I knew from experience how quickly lasagna could disappear!
We had barely filled our plates and begun eating when there was a knock on the church door. Our first family had arrived to receive what we had to offer.
I greeted them. But instead of focusing on the clothes, shoes, toys, or even the boxes of food, their eyes zeroed in on the fragrant lasagna. Before I could say a word, they were ready to dig in to the pan.
“It looks really good,” the young boy commented as he picked up a plate.
I froze. We couldn’t tell them the lasagna was not meant for them. If we turned them away from the scant pan of lasagna, it would ruin the ministry we were trying to build.
I looked at what was left in the pan and quickly calculated, sighing with relief. There would be enough.
The church door was now opening continually, two hours early, as the people came. Just like the first family, all of them ignored the clothes, boxes of food, and other items. Instead, they went straight to the food table, where the pan of lasagna seemed to beckon them.
All of us volunteers collectively held our breath. I watched, as did the other workers, as the people filled their plates. Would there be enough?
Three men showed up who were members of the church and went to look at a house in need of repairs. When they returned, they took paper plates and dished up their lasagna.
There was enough.
More and more people came early and automatically headed to the table that had been set up for the fifteen workers. We watched as they piled the lasagna on their plates and then came back for refills. Still, somehow lasagna remained in the pan.
The distribution of the boxes of food began on schedule, but first the people strolled up and down the clothes racks, pulling out different sizes. They talked back and forth and helped each other make the best clothing choices. They picked up clothes for friends who were not there. I could see this was becoming a social event, and the people were enjoying themselves. They asked each other about old friends and about the health of new friends. The children volunteers happily handed out and demonstrated the toys, and picked the right stuffed animal for babies.
The building was warm inside, not because the woodstove was doing its job, but because the room was filled with people and laughter.
The men helped a wheelchair-bound woman enter the room. She had been in a car accident and had lost the use of her legs. I squatted down to look into her eyes and welcome her to the event. She thanked me . . . and then set her wheels toward the pan of lasagna.
All afternoon the people came. The man who’d had a new roof put on by our volunteers had told everyone about the project. He was a person they all seemed to look up to and respect.
We were well received because of the work of love our men had done in the community. Tales of the community were told. We began to understand the people even better and were able to forge fledgling friendships.
At the end of the day, all the boxes of food were gone, and the hams and turkeys had found new homes. Loose hangers dangled on the racks; most of the clothes were taken and a few pairs of shoes still stood, but not one boot was left.
The lasagna pan remained on the table—but it was not empty!
More than sixty people had eaten from the serving for twenty.
Bonnie said, “Does anyone want lasagna to take home?”
We all stood amazed. We gave thanks to the Lord. We knew He multiplied the lasagna, just as He had multiplied the bread and the fishes in the Bible.
And there was even some left over.
God provides. Even if He has to work a miracle to do so!