Broken Makes More

I remember learning long division in elementary school math. 
 
It started out simply, with nice round numbers that could easily be divided. 
 
I still remember when I discovered decimals. 
 
My teacher explained that anything could be divided by two, not just even numbers. 
 
How?
 
Decimals helped us break the odd numbers in half. 
 
And even then, decimals could be divided,
 
and divided,
 
and divided again.
 
I learned that anything could be divided by two. 
 
No matter how small it already was. 
 
It could always be split. 
 
Shared.  
 
Forever and ever. 
 
Divided, broken, somehow made more. 
 
If all things denote there is a God, He must have a place in math. 
 
Maybe He’s in long division. 
 
The nice round numbers. 
 
I think He is in the decimals too. 
 
The broken numbers. 
 
And how somehow, broken makes more. 
 
At night we sing about Baby Sharks, twinkling stars, and Jesus. 
 
Last night it was “Tell Me the Stories of Jesus”. 
 
I really do love to hear them. 
 
The healing, the helping, the watching, the loving, the forgiving. 
 
“Tell them to me”. 
 
I wish I could have been there for them. 
 
For Him. 
 
For those moments when broken was more. 
 
The scriptures say it was getting late. 
 
The disciples requested the Savior send the people away into the city to get food to eat. 
 
Jesus’ compassion would not allow anyone to be sent away. 
 
Give ye them to eat. (Mark 6:37)
 
The disciples were used to impossible. 
 
But this?
 
Feeding 5,000 men and their wives and children?
 
They offered to go to the city to buy bread for all.
 
Though they had no money between them. 
 
Jesus asked them to collect what food they had. 
 
A lad in the multitude had 5 loaves and 2 little fishes.  
 
I think sometimes we imagine Jesus making more loaves and more fish appear. 
 
Maybe. 
 
But what if it wasn’t more loaves and fishes.
 
What if it was what they had, just broken.
 
And when he had taken the five loaves and the two fishes, he looked up to heaven, and blessed, and brake the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before them; and the two fishes divided he among them all.
 
And they did all eat, and were filled. (Mark 6:37)
 
Divided. 
 
Broken. 
 
Little, broken things fed a multitude. 
 
Jesus fed a multitude. 
 
Somehow, broken makes more. 
 
It’s something Jesus is good at. 
 
Long division. 
 
Broken. 
 
More. 
 
I have had broken times. 
 
Times when my spirit ached.
 
When confusion reigned and heaviness and fatigue were constant companions. 
 
But like little fish and odd numbers, Jesus found a way to make more of me.
 
In the broken. 
 
More kind. 
 
More patient. 
 
More helpful.
 
More holy.
 
More like Him. 
 
Broken makes more. 
 
And that makes me happy.