Pause
The apostles returned to Jesus from their
ministry tour and told him all they had done and taught. Then Jesus said, “Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.” He said this because there were so many people coming and going
that Jesus and his apostles didn’t even have time to eat. (Mark 6:30-31)
Ernie Johnson,
Jr. knows baseball. His father announced three decades' worth of major-league
games. And in the quarter century since Ernie inherited the microphone from his
dad, he’s covered six sports on three continents, voicing blowouts and
nail-biters, interviewing losers and buzzer beaters. He’s now the lead
television voice on Major League Baseball
on TBS. But one game stands out above all the others. Not because of who
played, but because of who stopped playing.
Ernie was a
nine-year-old Little League shortstop. An opposing batter hit a ground rule
double that bounced over the fence. Two of the outfielders scampered over the
fence to retrieve the ball so the game could continue. (Apparently the league
operated on a tight budget.) Both teams waited for them to return. They waited
. . . and waited . . . but no one appeared. Eventually, concerned coaches
finally jogged into the outfield and scaled the fence. Curious players,
including Ernie, followed the coaches. They found the missing duo just a few
feet beyond the fence, gloves dropped on the ground, found ball at their feet,
blackberries and smiles on their faces. The two players had stepped away from
the game.
How long has it
been since you’ve done the same? To stay sweet-spot centered in your spiritual
life, you must because the devil is determined to bump you out of your
strengths. We need regular recalibrations. But who has the time? You have
carpools to run; businesses to run; sales efforts to run; machines,
organizations, and budgets to run. You’ve gotta run. And Jesus understands. He
knew the frenzy of life. People back-to-backed his calendar with demands. But Jesus
also knew how to step away from the game.
“As the sun went
down that evening, people throughout the village brought sick family members to
Jesus. No matter what their diseases were, the touch of his hand healed every
one. Many were possessed by demons; and the demons came out at his command,
shouting, ‘You are the Son of God!’ But because they knew he was the
Messiah, he rebuked them and refused to let them speak. Early the next morning Jesus went out to an
isolated place. The crowds searched everywhere for him, and when they finally
found him, they begged him not to leave them. But he replied, ‘I must preach
the Good News of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I
was sent.’ So he continued to travel around, preaching in synagogues throughout
Judea.” (Luke 4:40-44)
These words
document Jesus' entry into the public arena. Having withstood the devil's
wilderness temptations, and his hometown's harsh rejection, Jesus journeyed to
Capernaum, where the citizens gave him a ticker-tape reception. Think John
Kennedy at the 1960 Democratic National Convention. They were astonished at His
teaching. (Luke 4:32) The story of what he had done spread like wildfire
throughout the whole region. (v. 37) People throughout the village brought sick
family members to Jesus. No matter what their diseases were, the touch of his
hand healed every one. (v. 40)
Could Christ
have wanted anything more? Enthralled masses, just-healed believers, and
thousands who would follow his lead. So Jesus . . . . Rallied a movement?
Organized a leadership team? Mobilized a political action committee? No. He
baffled the public-relations experts by placing the mob in the rearview mirror and
ducked into a … wildlife preserve, a hidden cove, a vacant building, or a “deserted
place.” And Luke 4:42 identifies the reason: "they begged him not to leave
them."
People brought
Jesus more than sick bodies and seeking souls. They brought him agendas.
Itineraries. Unsolicited advice. The herd of humanity wanted to set Jesus's
course. "Listen to us," they said. "We'll direct your
steps." And they say the same to you. Just look over your shoulder. The
crowd is only one step back. They seem to know more about your life than you
do. Where you should work. Whom you should marry. What you should study. They’ll
lead your life if you’ll allow them. But Jesus didn't. More than once he
exercised crowd control.
"When Jesus
saw the crowd around him, he told his followers to go to the other side of the
lake." (Matt. 8:18) When the crowd ridiculed his power to raise a girl
from the dead, he evicted them from the premises. "After the crowd had
been thrown out of the house, Jesus went into the girl's room and took hold of
her hand, and she stood up." (Matt. 9:25) After a day of teaching,
"Jesus left the crowd and went into the house." (Matt. 13:36) Though
surrounded by possibly twenty thousand fans, he turned away from them: "Then
Jesus sent the people home." (Matt. 15:39) Christ repeatedly escaped the
noise of the crowd in order to hear the voice of God.
After his
forty-day pause in the wilderness, the people
“… begged him not to leave them. But he replied, ‘I must preach the Good News
of the Kingdom of God in other towns, too, because that is why I was sent.’"
(Luke 4:42-43) He resisted the undertow of the people by anchoring to the rock
of his purpose: employing his uniqueness (to "preach in other towns, too")
and to make a big deal out of God ("the Kingdom of God") everywhere
he could. And aren't you glad he did? Suppose he’d heeded the crowd and set up
camp in Capernaum, reasoning, "I thought the whole world was my target and
the cross my destiny. But the entire town tells me to stay in Capernaum. Could
all these people be wrong?" Yes, they could.
In defiance of
the crowd, Jesus turned his back on the Capernaum pastorate and followed the
will of God. Doing so meant leaving some sick people unhealed and some confused
people untaught. He said no to good things so he could say yes to the right
thing: his unique calling. Not an easy choice for anyone. So what about you? Do
you sense a disconnect between your design and your daily duties? Are you
neglecting your strengths? God may want you to leave your Capernaum, but you're
intent on staying. Or he may want you to stay, and you're bound and determined
to leave. How can you know unless you mute the crowd and meet with Jesus in a
deserted place?
"Deserted"
doesn’t mean desolate, just quiet. A place where you, like Jesus, can depart.
"Now when it was day, He departed." (Luke 4:42) "Depart"
presupposes a decision on the part of Jesus, don’t you think? "I need to
get away. To think. To ponder. To rechart my course." Jesus determined the
time, and selected a place. And with resolve, he pressed the pause button on
his life. And your escape requires equal determination because hell hates to
see you stop.
Richard Foster
hit the mark when he wrote: "In contemporary society our Adversary majors
in three things: noise, hurry and crowds. If he can keep us engaged in
'muchness' and 'manyness,' he will rest satisfied.” Psychiatrist C. G. Jung bluntly
stated, “Hurry is not of the Devil;
it is the Devil."
The devil
implants taximeters in our brains. We hear the relentless tick, tick, tick
telling us to hurry, hurry, hurry, time is money . . . resulting in this
roaring blur called the human race.
But Jesus stands against the tide, countering the crescendo with these words:
"Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry have burdens, and I will
give you rest." (Matt. 11:28) Follow the example of Jesus, who "often
withdrew into the wilderness and prayed." (Luke 5:16)
Eugene Peterson provides
a healthy example here. This multi-book author and three-decade pastor knows
the importance of pausing on purpose. He wrote: “Monday is my Sabbath. Nothing
is scheduled for Mondays. If there are emergencies I respond, but there are
surprisingly few. My wife joins me in observing the day. We make a lunch, put
it in a daypack, take our binoculars and drive anywhere from fifteen minutes to
an hour away, to a trailhead along a river or into the mountains. Before we
begin our hike my wife reads a psalm and prays. After that prayer there is no
more talking – we enter into a silence that will continue for the next two or
three hours, until we stop for lunch. We walk leisurely, emptying ourselves,
opening ourselves to what is there: fern shapes, flower fragrance, birdsong,
granite outcropping, oaks and sycamores, rain, snow, sleet, wind. . . .When the
sun or our stomachs tell us it is lunch time, we break the silence with a
prayer of blessing for the sandwiches and fruit, the river and the forest. We
are free to talk now, sharing bird sightings, thoughts, observations, ideas –
however much or little we are inclined. We return home in the middle or late
afternoon, putter, do odd jobs, read. After supper I usually write family
letters. That's it. No Sinai thunder. No Damascus Road illuminations. No Patmos
visions. A day set apart for solitude and silence. Not-doing. Being-there. The
sanctification of time.”
God rested after
six days of work, and the world didn't collapse. What makes us think it will if
we do? Or maybe we fear it won't. I don’t know, but follow Jesus into the
desert. A thousand and one voices will scream like banana-tree monkeys telling
you not to ignore them. But heed Jesus instead. Quit your work for a moment and
contemplate his. Accept your Maker's invitation: "Come aside by yourselves
to a deserted place and rest a while." (Mark 6:31) And while you’re there,
put the phone down and enjoy some blackberries.
Grace,
Randy
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