Get Away With God

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This week’s lectionary is Matthew 14:13-21, which is commonly referred to as the Feeding of the Five Thousand” (plus the women and children. They weren’t included in the tally. Hmmmm). But I’ve been reflecting on the start of passage: “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.”

So what made Jesus get away from it all? He had received word that Herod had beheaded John the Baptist. Perhaps Jesus left in order to remember his cousin and grieve his cousin’s death. Maybe he knew the crowds would be agitated so he left, hoping his departure might deescalate things. Maybe it was all of that and more: perhaps Jesus was weary and just needed a break. 

We, too, are weary. We, too, are in the midst of grief. And, due to COVID-19 restrictions, we are dealing with so many emotions (both our own and others): anger, confusion, loneliness, fear and so much more. 

What might Jesus teach us?

Even though you’ve been social distancing, when are you making it an intentional time to be alone with God and bare your soul? When do you give yourself permission to let go of your responsibilities, get away from your work, walk away from all the demands on you, and simply feel all the things you’ve tucked deep away? In what ways do you bring yourself to lie beside still waters and let God renew your soul?

When Jesus returned to shore, we are told he looked around and was moved into action by what he saw.  He “had compassion” and “healed the sick”. I know when I neglect to make space for my soul to be restored, the first thing to go is my compassion and empathy. In fact, when I start feeling as if everyone is annoying me, I’ve learned it’s less about them and more about me: I haven’t taken time for my soul and everything suffers: my compassion, creativity and productivity. 

When Jesus retuned to shore, he not only healed people, he also fed the multitude. Imagine what God might have you do if you intentionally get away from the crowd and spend time with God. 

Be well. Wear a mask. Stay safe.

Come Away

Perhaps I have spent too many years of my life in school, but summer is always the time for rest, renewal, and recalibration. There is muscle-memory in me from childhood that recalls the freedom felt at the end of June when school let out. I’d look at my report card, recall all that I had done during the school year, and then throw it aside and enjoy the “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.”

I think that this is something that Jesus was trying to teach the disciples. In Mark 6, Jesus sends out the apostles on a mission. In twos, they are told to go from village to village and share the Good News. “They went out and preached that people should repent. ¹³ They drove out many demons and anointed many sick people with oil and healed them.” (Mark 6: 12-13)

When they returned, they were excited to share with Jesus all they had said and done. Jesus, knowing that the demands of ministry never go away, said to them “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” (Mark 6: 31)

Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.

How do you give yourself a place of solitude, so you can rest? We live in an era with such great technology that we can work anywhere, but that also means we can work all the time. When was the last time you offered yourself a deserted place, a quiet place, a place where you can be still and listen to the sound of your own breathing?

It is in the spaces of rest that we can reflect on our lives, our work, and our ministry. We can identify those things that we are doing that give us life, those things that invite death, and then make changes so that when we return to our scheduled lives, we can let go of those things that don’t bring us life.

Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling: “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”

Why I Practice Sabbath-Keeping

I am troubled by the fact that I have to schedule times with friends at least two, if not three weeks in advance to fit into each other’s schedules.

I am troubled by the fact that so many kids today live lives that are as heavily scheduled as many adults.

I am troubled when couples tell me that they often don’t get to reconnect with each other until after 10 at night.

I am troubled when single people tell me they don’t have time to date.

I am troubled when folks tell me that their work load is so great that they have to make a choice between attending a church meeting or coming to worship (a side note: if work is that demanding, always err on the side of attending worship).

I am troubled that all these technological devices which are supposed to allow us to work anywhere have resulted in us working everywhere.

I am troubled by all of this because many of us are going through life terribly off-balanced.

We are overloaded, overworked, overcommitted, overanxious, overextended and overwhelmed, .

I recently read a book by Steve and Mary Farrar that described the contemporary American lifestyle that contributes to overload as deficit living. They wrote, “Overloaded people live in deficit—emotional, relational, or spiritual. When our checking accounts are overdrawn, we experience immediate stress and pressure, don’t we? It sets off an adrenal rush to find a way to immediately cover that shortfall. But where do you find a surplus when you’re already short? Where do you get money when you’re completely out?

“It’s also possible to get overdrawn in life. When we are overwhelmed, we find ourselves living in deficit—emotional deficit, relational deficit, spiritual deficit. We get overdrawn in our relationships and overdrawn with our kids. We run out of currency—the emotional and relational “cash” that it takes to live life well. And before long we begin to get anxious and panicky, because we think there is no way out.” (from Overcoming Overload by Steve and Mary Farrar, Colorado Springs: Multnomah Books. 2003)

This deficit living is one reason why I try to observe a Sabbath every week. Sabbath is a time for me to unplug, keep my calendar empty, and do nothing that is even vaguely related to "have to" "must do" or "should do". Sabbath helps me breathe unconstricted, stretch my body and my soul, and relearn the rhythm of grace in my life again. Sabbath is a time of reconnection: with God, with those I love, with myself.

The weeks I fail to observe Sabbath, I feel as if I am running on empty and out of sync with myself and God. By keeping Sabbath, I ensure that in my busy, overextended life I have made room for God. And God never fails to show up in the midst of my Sabbath to sustain me the rest of the week.

Do you observe Sabbath?

What difference does it make in your life?