2009-07-19 Mk 06 30-34 Come away to a crowded place

Mark 6:30-34
40-Ord16-G-Year B
James McTyre
Lake Hills Presbyterian Church
July 20, 2003; July 19, 2009

"And he said to them, 'Come away, into a deserted place, and rest a little.'
"For there were many coming and going and they had no leisure even to eat."

When Jesus really wanted to get away and get close to God,
to pray and to think holy thoughts,
he went to a deserted place.
I have two young kids.
If I go to a deserted place, I fall asleep.
If I'm going to get in touch with God -- say, work on a sermon --  I go to a coffee shop.
I order a cup of Columbian, and start reading and typing as fast as I can.
The more coffee I drink, the faster I write.
These are NOT decaf sermons.
These are highly caffeinated sermons for highly caffeinated people.

Deserted places are hard to come by.
Crowds may not follow us around,
as they did Jesus and the disciples,
but a lot of us work hard to follow the crowds.
We work to keep up with news and with trends.
We strive to keep our kids so busy that their little hands never have a chance be the devil's workshop.
We multi-process.
Which means that our species has evolved to where we can talk on the phone,
pay bills, check the email,
listen for the microwave to beep, watch Lou Dobbs,
and threaten teenagers with the most heinous punishment of all: grounding -
all at the same time.
A cell phone rings in a restaurant, and half the place leans over to see if it's theirs.
The other half is already talking on their phones while they're ordering dessert.
Dessert?
Sure, we'd all love a few more deserted places, a little more free time, a quiet spot to get in touch with God.
It's just that everybody seems so afraid they'll miss something important.
We have no idea what that important something might be, but that's not important.
Deserted places aren't worth as much as filled places.
We live as though deserted places aren't worth anything at all.

It was upon people like this,
people like you and me,
upon the crowds that chased him down even in his deserted place,
that Jesus had, the Bible says, "compassion."
It says, "He was moved to compassion toward them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things."
It sounds like we have a decaf Jesus in a high-caf world.
A Jesus who lets us invade his deserted spaces,
in order to teach us a thing or two.


Some of us are better than others at finding deserted space.
Some of us are more comfortable with the silence, in which God speaks through a "still, small voice."
Some of you find your quiet places in the mountains, in places like Cades Cove.
Or on the water, out in a boat,
with a fishing  line plooped next to a tranquil shoreline.
Some of you find your quiet place on a golf course.
Golf courses are especially meditative when you're way off into the woods and you're searching for a ball you've sliced 50 yards beyond where humans have ever trod.
Trust me.
Or maybe your quiet place is a screened porch,
with your feet up and a good book in your hands,
just before nightfall,
when the cicadas are chirping,
and a light breeze barely brushes against you.
"Come away."
"Come away," the Savior said,
"to a deserted place all by yourself and rest a while.
(You who are coming and going and barely have time to eat.)"
O, that we could get to those places more often.
O, that we might listen to the sound of our own breath as the Spirit blows in and out of us.
God has given us a world that's just this side of Eden.
God has given us a world that's filled with wonder and grace.
God has provided us nature and natural rhythms,
which for the good of our spiritual health and mental health and physical health, we do well to obey.

But if that's all we take home from this scripture, then we're not asking very much of it.
Sure, everybody needs down-time, Sabbath time.
Even Jesus needed it, and tried (not very successfully) to get away and rest up from all the demands.
From the first chapter of Genesis, when God rests on the seventh day, and declares it holy,
scripture tries to make us understand that deserted places are good for us.
Not that we pay attention, but scripture tries.
I couldn't count the number of people I've gone to see in the hospital who say things like,
"Well, I hate that I had to come here to get some rest."
I would guess that our Creator God hates it too.
Hates that we get so out of whack that we'd rather make ourselves ill than change our lifestyles.
But scripture has to be telling us more than that.

If Jesus had really wanted to, he could have found a place where no one could reach him.
Being the Son of God, he could have gotten away,
used some miracle to conceal himself,
found some super-secret hiding place where no one would ever think to look.
He could have.
But he didn't.
And he doesn't.
He didn't hide then.
And he doesn't hide now.

When Jesus wanted to get away and go to his deserted place, he took a route that people could see.
When he reached his quiet spot, where he could be with God, it was somewhere that crowds of people could find.
Even when he's trying to get away,
Jesus isn't some super-secret mystery that only a few more than twelve people know how to find.
And even when his peaceful rest is ruined by herds of jabbering humans,
he doesn't put up a Do Not Disturb sign.
He doesn't send them away.
He doesn't take the phone off the hook or refuse to answer his email.
He doesn't get grouchy.
Jesus is especially welcoming,
miraculously welcoming,
to the mobs of thirsting, hungering, needy people
whose souls are a deserted place.
And upon these people who mess up his quiet time of prayer and re-creation,
scripture says Jesus has compassion.
Compassion.
And not rejection.
Jesus has compassion for people who can't buy a break,
who can't tolerate a break,
who are ready to break, without him.

These people crowd around Jesus wanting to see a miracle.
But you want to know what the first miracle they got was?
The first miracle was that Jesus didn't make them wait until a commercial break to look at them.
The first miracle was the miracle of divine interruption.
The people interrupted Jesus.
They messed up his quiet time.
And that was OK.
Instead of throwing them out or making them take a number, Jesus invited them all in.
A compassionate Jesus invited the people into his deserted place.
And this holy place got louder, and crowded - and shared.
Sure, scripture is telling us that breaks and places away are helpful.
But much more, scripture's telling us that when we can't get a break,
when we feel like we're going to break,
those are the times when the circle of God's compassion grows larger.
In his schedule, in his peaceful spot,
Jesus makes room for you, and for me.
The Almighty shares his space with us.
That's a miracle.


Well, that's a nice thought, and I'm glad you took a few minutes this morning to come hear it.
Makes downing all that coffee worthwhile.
But this miracle of divine interruption somehow has to change from a nice thought into real-life.
That's your job.
You see, if the crowds hadn't chased Jesus down, he would have gone on with his spiritual retreat.
The masses would have gone on with their daily routines.
Everything would have gone on, and nothing would have changed.
No miracle.
No compassion.
No connection.
Everyone would have gone on, doing their own little things in their own little worlds.

You see a lot of that in a coffee shop.
I'm sitting at my table, working on a sermon.
A couple of tables over there's a guy on a cell phone talking up a real estate deal.
At another table there's a girl explaining to a friend how it didn't really hurt as much as she thought it would when she got her lip pierced.
By the door is a homeless guy reading a newspaper someone left behind.
And behind the counter is the bored girl whose job it is to ask everybody who comes in, "Can I help you?"
We're all doing what we're supposed to be doing, because that's the way things work in coffee shops
and in offices and in schools and in homes
(and even in churches) -
all around the countless collection of own little worlds today.

The real deserted space isn't some secret hideaway.
The real deserted space is the distance we put between us.
The real deserted places are shrinking circles of compassion
that squeeze God out of us
because we've bought into the lie
that life will be easier if we don't bug anyone else
and they don't bug us.
That's a lie on both fronts.
If you want to experience the miracle of Jesus making room for you, then your job is to make some room, yourself.
You have to widen your circle of compassion if you want to overlap with his.
Instead of multitasking our job is the single task of bugging the heck out of Jesus,
just as the crowds in scripture did.
Chase down the compassion of God so that even in your quiet places,
there is no deserted space
and there are no deserted people.
Divine interruption isn't a miracle you sit and wait for.
It's a miracle you work for.
It's a miracle you make happen.


There might be a hundred things on your to-do list this coming week.
Or there might be none at all.
Either way, console yourself by knowing that the person with the most accomplishments checked off by next Sunday isn't necessarily the winner.
The person who has downed the most coffee,
or mini-vanned the most places,
or sold the most product isn't going to get an award the next time he or she enters the sanctuary doors.
Because this is a sanctuary,
a quiet spot,
where intentionally not so many things are supposed to happen
and not so many things are to be rewarded.
This is the place where we remind ourselves that God gives us one, infinitely compassionate break.
This is the place where Jesus lets us chase him down
and do only the work of worship.
It's a quiet place,
but as long as the Spirit of the living God is here,
it's never a deserted place.

Come away.
Come away to a quiet place.
Come away to a crowded place.
Come away a fulfilling place,
where you can feel and you can share the compassion of Christ,
and learn a thing or two.
However and wherever you do it,
just come away,
and rest a while.



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