How does a broken person love?

The Jewish feast of Passover was near.

Jesus lifted his eyes and saw a large crowd coming toward him.
He turned to Philip and asked,
“Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?”

He said this to test him—
because He Himself knew what He was going to do.

There is always something deeply personal in the way Jesus asks questions.

He sees the crowd.
Not just their hunger for bread—
but their hunger for love,
for meaning,
for healing.

And then He turns to His disciples.

“Where can we buy enough food?”

A question not about logistics,
but about the heart.

Will you try to solve this with what you don’t have?
Or will you recognise who I am?

The next Passover,
Jesus will become the food Himself.

He will become the Paschal Lamb—
broken, given,
life-giving food
for a people broken by sin.

And what is this brokenness?

It is the inability to love.
It is the quiet loss of one’s own worth.
It is the deep disconnect
from the God who is the very source
of our immeasurable value.

So when Jesus sees the crowd,
He is not just seeing a problem to solve.

He is seeing hearts
starving for love.

And He turns to us still—

What will you do?

My struggle with self-worth often tempts me
to do the impossible:

to heal,
to fix,
to love perfectly,
people who are just as broken as I am.

But that is not what God asks.

He does not ask me to become the source.

He asks me to trust the Source.

To bring my desire,
my weakness,
my small offering—
the little loaves and fish I have—

and place them in His hands.

He multiplies.
He transforms.
He makes it enough.

My role is not to perform miracles.

Only to distribute what He has blessed.

And what about the people closest to me—
the ones I am called to love,
but often find difficult to love?

They too carry a hidden brokenness.

An abandoned inner child.
A place that feels unsafe, unseen, unloved.

Yet even there—
Jesus is present.

Loving them.
Waiting for them to recognize.

So instead of reacting to their wounds,
I am invited to see deeper.

To see the wounded Jesus in them.
To trust Jesus for them.

To take my helplessness,
place it in His hands,
and receive back a love
that is no longer mine—
but His.

And somehow,
through these small acts of trust,
through these multiplied fragments,

they begin to see
their own worth.

Their own preciousness.

Jesus,
I trust You
with my brokenness today.