The Power of Saying “Yes”: How One Community Turned Scarcity into Abundance

Jesus was always getting his disciples into situations that seemed impossible.

There they were, thousands of people, hungry and far from home. All they had were five loaves of bread and two fish. Exhausted from a busy day of healing everybody and their second cousin, the disciples turn to Jesus and say, “Dude, it’s so late. Send these folks to the village so they can pick up some gnosh.”

Jesus is not convinced. “Why should they go? You give them something to eat.”

You can almost hear the exhausted sigh of Philip, the one who has just about had it: “Six months’ wages wouldn’t buy enough for each of them to get a little.”

We know how the story goes. Jesus blesses the bread, hands it out, and somehow, impossibly, everyone eats their fill. And not just that — there are leftovers. Twelve baskets’ worth. A sign of abundance in a world that so often preaches scarcity.

I’m not usually a fan of Magic Jesus stories—and feeding 5000 people is right at the top of the list of Magic Jesus moments.

However, I don’t think I truly understood the full power of this story until I found myself, quite unexpectedly, in the middle of my own feeding miracle.

A Crisis at Our Doorstep

Last summer, Toronto saw an unprecedented wave of asylum seekers, mostly from central Africa, arriving in the city only to find there was no shelter for them. Hundreds of refugees were sent to 129 Peter Street, the administrative office for Toronto’s shelter system, only to be told there was no room. They slept outside, on the pavement, as the municipal, provincial, and federal governments argued over who should pay to house them.

The contrast to the reception Ukrainian refugees received was impossible to ignore. When Ukrainians began arriving and all levels of government mobilized swiftly. Hotels were secured. Resources flowed. Yet for these Black refugees, many of whom had fled similar levels of violence and persecution (or worse), the response was lethargic. As Rev. Judith James of Revivaltime Tabernacle put it, “People treat their pets better than the government has treated our community.”

With the government failing to act, it was Black churches that stepped in. Pastors and parishioners turned their sanctuaries into makeshift shelters. They laid out mats on the floors. They cooked meals, provided spiritual care, and navigated the bureaucratic nightmare of refugee paperwork. Dominion Church was hosting over 200 people with only two showers. They had been doing this for months, while the government debated who should foot the bill.

And then came the night when, for a variety of complicated reasons, Dominion could no longer hold everyone. Almost 100 people had nowhere to sleep before Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada could relocate them to hotel shelters the next day.

And the rain was coming.

With only a few hours’ notice, I found myself sending a desperate text to my church’s property manager. For context, I had only been working at this church for two months.

Hey, P… 👋🏼
I know I’m new here,
And this is crazy,
But 100 people need a place to sleep tonight,
Can we do that, maybe? 🤷🏻‍♀️

One Yes, Then Another

I was expecting to be let down easy. I was expecting to be told all the reasons why taking in 100 people with three hours notice was impossible.

Instead, my phone pinged: “I think we can make that work.”

Fortunately, my congregation hosts a weekly overnight program for those experiencing homelessness. We had mats and sheets and pillows. There were places to sleep. But then the next question came: How will we feed them? I was unable to leave the church. I didn’t have a car with me. I couldn’t get to a store to purchase even the most basic of provisions.

The disciples’ question echoed in my ears: “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?”

So, I did what any modern minister does: I turned to social media. I posted in my church’s online community. I posted in my son’s school’s Facebook group. I expected a few donations of granola bars and chips. Instead, my phone exploded with messages:

“I’m on my way to the store. What do you need?”

“I have $300 worth of groceries. Where should I drop them?”

“Ain’t nobody going hungry on our watch.”

And then, in the pouring rain, they came. Parents with bags of food. Neighbours who had never set foot in our church, carrying trays of sandwiches. United Church members from across the city, showing up with coffee and bagels for the morning.

By the time the buses arrived with the asylum seekers, the gym was ready. The food was waiting. A quiet room was set aside for prayer and meditation. And there was more than enough.

More than enough.

Twelve baskets’ worth, in a way.

The Economics of Abundance

The world teaches us to believe in scarcity. That there isn’t enough to go around. That if we give too much, we might not have enough for ourselves. This is the logic that keeps the wealthiest nations in the world from properly addressing the global refugee crisis. It’s the logic that pits struggling communities against each other, making people believe that a stranger’s gain leads to their loss. It’s the logic that keeps governments deadlocked in debates while people sleep on the streets.

Consider the crisis at the southern border of the United States, where thousands of asylum seekers from Central and South America arrive each month, fleeing violence, political instability, and economic despair. Rather than responding with compassion and support, many state governments have focused on deterrence, spending billions on border enforcement while underfunding shelters and legal aid programs. When Texas Governor Greg Abbott began busing migrants to northern sanctuary cities, places like New York and Chicago scrambled to respond. Some communities embraced the challenge, organizing grassroots efforts to house and feed the new arrivals, while others reacted with resentment, citing overwhelmed resources and a lack of government support.

In contrast, there are stories of abundance in action. Take, for example, the work of Annunciation House in El Paso, Texas. For decades, this volunteer-run shelter has provided food, medical care, and temporary housing to migrants released from Border Patrol custody. Funded entirely by donations and staffed by volunteers, Annunciation House operates on the radical belief that there is always enough when people share.

Jesus teaches that a single “yes” can lead to another. That what seems like not enough can be more than enough when it is freely given. That when we step into a mindset of abundance, we realize how much we actually have to share.

Yes begets yes.

Scarcity is a lie we tell ourselves. The truth is, abundance is possible when we choose to believe it. And sometimes, all it takes is one “yes” to dispel the fear that you having enough means I must go hungry.

[East End United Regional Ministry would go on to host 30 asylum seekers in our building for two months…but that is a story for another time.]

In the end, abundance is about the willingness to believe that there is enough. Enough room. Enough food. Enough care. Enough love. And when we choose to act on that belief, the impossible becomes possible.

The miracle isn’t in the loaves and fishes.

The miracle is in the yes.

Hi! 👋🏼 I’m Rev. Bri-anne. You can also find me on BlueSky🦋, serving the fine folks of East End United Regional Ministry🏳️‍⚧️ ✝️ 🏳️‍🌈, or leading the Resistance Church digital community.

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