Pastor
Tom Johnson, July 26, 2015
We live in the
information age. Some studies suggest that we are bombarded with over 100
thousand words a day—that is about 23 words per second. It is enough
information to crash a laptop computer. People walk down the sidewalk with friends, talking, reading their
smartphones, and trying to obey traffic signals and signs all at the same time.
We are warned not to do so while driving a car. Information overload can impair
our performance just like alcohol. There are few
warnings out there, however, for us to avoid overloading our minds with
information or overwhelming our spirits with the chaos and confusion of this
world. There is more evidence that we can only process so much information. And
it likely to be very unhealthy for our brains. Just last week,
there was an article in the Tribune about police officers suing for overtime pay
because they felt that they could not put their smartphones away because they
would receive texts and emails all hours of the day and night.
One of the threads in our Gospel reading today is the relentless demand ministry
has on Jesus—the toll life in this present
world has on the eternal Son of God made flesh. Jesus’ humanity can only
handle so much. He has a human brain, a body of flesh and blood, and apparently
a truly human tolerance for the hustle and bustle of life. The crowds follow
him. The first century paparazzi sticks to him like a fly on flypaper. And so
Jesus flees to the mountain. He takes his disciples with him. He maketh them to
lay down in green pastures. He makes them sit in a remote place. Our text says
there was a great deal of grass in the place. Enough for 5,000. Last week’s Gospel
reading had a similar invitation to the Apostles who were also feeling
exhausted by the world’s demands and lack of food: “Come away to a deserted
place all by yourselves and rest a while” Jesus says (Mark 6:31). Jesus is the Good
Shepherd who takes care of his sheep. He leads and feeds them. He satisfies
them. He is the pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night that
leads his people Israel into the wilderness and feeds them the bread of heaven.
But he also takes care
of himself. He understands his own
need to be strengthened in his humanity. He thirsts. He hungers. He is worn
down by the demands, concerns, and confusion of this present world. The crowds have
eaten to their satisfaction and have experienced this miracle. They want to
force him to be king. Jesus reads their hearts. But he also monitors his own heart
and mission and supervises his own soul. “When Jesus
realizes that they are about to come and take him by force to make him king,”
our text says, “he withdraws again to the mountain by himself.” One early
church father, Chrysostom, says this:
“He went up to the mountain as a lesson to us to retire from the tumult
and confusion of the world. For solitude is appropriate for the study of
wisdom. Jesus often went up alone onto a mountain in order to pray, even
spending the night there. He did this in order to teach us that the one who
will come most near to God must be free from all disturbance and must seek
times and places away from all the confusion.” I think this is similar
to what Jesus taught us in the Sermon on the Mount: to go into our “prayer closet
in secret so that our heavenly Father, who sees in secret, will reward us” (Matt
6:6). He rewards us with the assurance of his grace and presence. When the Apostles looked
for believers who might be open to the Gospel, they went outside the city to
the river “where they supposed there was a place of prayer.” There they found Lydia
who is the first European convert to Christianity (Acts 16:13). Finding this quiet place is the original design for that weary band of Israelite
slaves delivered out of bondage in Egypt and from the chains of hard-hearted
Pharoah—the Sabbath day—a day off—a break from daily labor—finding our rest in
God’s word, his promises, and his gifts—gifts that include rivers and mountains—all
of God’s creation.
Jesus' example encourages
us to set aside a few minutes a day to pray, a quiet walk with our thoughts and
prayers with God, a greater appreciation for public worship and our gathering
here to receive the Word made flesh—the Bread of heaven. Jesus’ example may
make us consider taking a week or a weekend off to be still and know that he is
God. Today God says, “Go—go into the wilderness with me. Go deep into that
prayer closet and let God help you sort through the archives of your soul. Take
a vacation from the weary journey of a pilgrim.” Even if just for an hour, find your peace and rest in Christ. Follow
Jesus to a remote place. And like him, embrace the way of the Cross. Reject worldly
shortcuts to advance yourself and become king. Choose instead the Cross of
Calvary.
Jesus does just
that. He chooses an honest confrontation with the weakness of humanity. In his
strength and perfection, he chooses to lay down his life for the sheep. This
same Jesus, who is wearied by the confusion and chaos of this world, takes a
momentary step away from the world and a giant leap toward our salvation. For he is the King
of kings and Lord of lords who will not be overwhelmed by the world but
overwhelms the world by his love. He overwhelms sin, the devil, the world, and
death itself by the Good news of his death and resurrection. He is our respite.
He is our peace. He is our hiding place. He the rest for the weary.
Praise the One
who breaks the darkness
With a liberating light;
Praise the One who frees the prisn’ners
Turning blindness into sight.
Praise the One who preached the Gospel,
Healing eve’ry dread disease,
Calming storms, and feeding thousands
With the very Bread of Peace. (Praise the One Who Breaks the Darkness, v. 1).
With a liberating light;
Praise the One who frees the prisn’ners
Turning blindness into sight.
Praise the One who preached the Gospel,
Healing eve’ry dread disease,
Calming storms, and feeding thousands
With the very Bread of Peace. (Praise the One Who Breaks the Darkness, v. 1).
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