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| "Kri Kri, on the shores of Lake Chad" by European Commission DG ECHO, on Flickr |
Mark 6:30–34, 53–56
The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.
When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.
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Last night, we had the pleasure of welcoming Bayo and Mary Beth to worship, where they shared with us the current news and notes from their missionary work in Nigeria. They shared good news of successfully arranging transport of shipping container, which was filled with children's books for their school library and with medical supplies to help furnish their clinic. They introduced to us, via powerpoint, some of the children under care at their mission, and to some of the school children who are flourishing in their studies. Mary Beth beamed with pride over pictures of the teachers that she has been training. Bayo beamed with price over pictures of his six hundred chickens that are a self-sustaining means of food and income. We met many of the core staff of the Meshiah Foundation, which is the name for the whole operation that Bayo and Mary Beth have planted in Jos, Nigeria.
But they were perhaps most pleased and excited to show us pictures of their now-completed medical clinic, a project that was in its last stages of construction two years ago when they were here last. A fully-functional clinic, with a doctor and nurses, lab technicians, exam rooms, a couple of overnight beds, and even some space for labor and delivery, stretched out across three different wings.
It was while showing us picture of the clinic that Bayo, who was running the powerpoint, stood up and stole the microphone from Mary Beth. He wanted to remind us of how this clinic came to be.
The clinic came about because there was first a need. Mary Beth and Bayo didn't head to Nigeria at the start of their mission journey saying to themselves, "So the plan, of course, is to build a medical clinic, and once we do that, we'll see if anybody will use it." No, they lived and loved and taught and proclaimed God's word in Jos, Nigeria, and as they did so, they started seeing the deep ways that HIV was affecting families. There were sick people in need of healing. Spurred on by their compassion for the needs of these HIV families, and other sick and suffering individuals, they teamed up with member churches - and First Lutheran, in particular - to start building a medical clinic.
The need came first. The need showed up on their doorstep. The needs of the community interrupted and interjected and stomped all over whatever other plans the Oyebades might have been making for their ministry, and it was by following the need that God revealed his ongoing plan for their work, a plan that now involves looking for donations of medical equipment to fill another shipping container sometime in 2016.
I think that sometimes, the work that God most calls us - and blesses us - to do, is to take care of the needs that show up on our doorstep, even or especially when those needs are nothing that we've planned or prepared for.
At the start of our gospel today, the disciples return from their mission to the villages. Two weeks ago, we heard Jesus send them out to heal, proclaim, and cast out demons. Today, they return, thrilled by all that God empowered them to do. Hurray!
And Jesus, himself knowing the energy it takes to love and serve others, encourages them to rest, and whisks them away to a quiet place.
Except that he doesn't whisk them quite quickly enough, it seems. While they are slipping off via boat, the crowds figure out where they're going, and rush their on foot, arriving before them.
Surely, in the name of keeping good boundaries, in the name of avoiding burnout or compassion fatigue, Jesus could have sent the crowds away, postponed them until he and the disciples had rested and eaten and were refreshed for ministry.
But that isn't what Jesus does. As he gets out of the boat and sees these crowds, he has compassion on them. He doesn't ignore their needs. He teaches them, and, in the verses that the lectionary cuts from today's gospel, he feeds them, and then he and the disciples get back in the boat, cross to the other side, and heal the crowds that meet them on the opposite bank.
I want us to consider, for a few moments, where we might find ourself in this gospel.
First, I think about all of those crowds. I wonder what it would be like if we felt as free as they did to admit our needs and to seek help for those needs. I wonder what it would be like for us if we trusted the power of Jesus enough to run directly to him with our burdens. I wonder what it would be like for us if we were so excited about the good news of Jesus that we literally ran to meet him with joy and eagerness.
And then I think about the disciples, tired from their work, who took Jesus at his word when offered them rest. I wonder what it would be like for us to let Christ be our rest. I wonder what it would be like for us to let Christ pull us off to a deserted place, away from our overflowing schedules and persistent news cycle.
And then I look at Jesus, and I also see the flip side of rest and rejuvination. Jesus tries to take a break, but the needs of the crowds follow him around. And he doesn’t use rest as an excuse not to help them. I wonder if we are as gracious with the needs that interrupt us. I wonder if we sometimes hold the cares of the world at arms’ length in the name of self-care or avoiding burnout.
Pastor Nadia Bolz Weber confesses,
I am really good at lying. And if I can go an extra step and make it look like I’m actually being good - if I can pawn off narcissism as a virtue, then I win. Like when I am just sick of [caring] about other people and want to be selfish so I call my two days of watching Netflix and getting mani-pedis ‘self-care.’ Or when I say I’m on ‘a cleanse’ so no one knows I’m really on a diet. The list goes on, and the last thing I want is for any light to be cast on the darkness that I’ve spent so much energy curating, protecting, enjoying. But it’s not a cleanse. It’s a diet. It’s not about my health, it’s about my vanity. (Pastrix, p. 71)Oof. She speaks a hard truth.
Jesus challenges the disciples, and us, to be compassionate toward the needs that show up at the worst times, in the most inconvenient ways, those times when we most wish we could turn away, and take care of our own lives, when we feel like we have nothing left to give.
It's one thing to care for the needs of the world when we do it on our own terms. We plan service projects. We go on mission trips. We set scheduled hours for the food pantry and the free clinic and the community meal. LSI holds set office hours in the building. Joan is in the office at Community Action on a set schedule.
But what happens when the needs seek us out? Especially when we are feeling tired, or when we feel like we have already given our due? The discretionary fund request that shows up at my office door while I am working on a sermon. The food pantry client who shows up two minutes too late. The mission support and church budget needs that appear after we have already given our pledge for the week or month.
In our gospel, Jesus shows us a model of ministry that cares for the world on its terms, and not ours. A colleague of mine once remarked, "The distractions are the ministry," and there is some truth to that statement. Because doesn't it seem that the unscheduled needs and the spontaneous sharing of gifts and talents turn out to be the deepest moments of ministry and witness?
It is the needs that we don't plan for that challenge us to act on faith. It is the burdens that we don't have room for that challenge us to be more generous. It is the "distractions" to our regularly scheduled programming that humble us and remind us that our power to love and serve is not our own, but that of God working through us.
So what new ventures of compassion and care might God be calling us to do, if only we say “yes” to the distractions, to the interloping needs of our brothers and sisters in Christ?
For Bayo and Mary Beth, the needs of HIV-afflicted families showed up on their doorstep. From that need grew an incredible ministry of healing and generosity. Do we not trust that God can work just as powerfully through us, if only we allow the needs of the world to lead us?
Friends, week in and week out, we come to this place for rest. We hear the word of God, we linger over a holy meal, we recharge for the week ahead. It is here that we know Jesus as our rest and our respite. Today, we offer healing prayer during communion, and you are invited to be honest with your own needs and burdens, that you might hear a word of peace and healing.
But then know that even as you are refreshed, you are also sent back out at the end of worship, to live in love as Christ loved us. You are being sent out not just to seek out ways to serve and proclaim Christ, but also to open your hearts to the many and various needs that show up where we aren’t looking for them.
This week, may you find patience for the conversations that interrupt your schedule.
May you offer food or money to the hungry eyes that catch you at the most inconvenient moment.
May you lift up a heartfelt prayer precisely when you feel overwhelmed by the news of the day.
And may Christ, who is your rest, be also Christ your strength, to love and to serve with tenderness, as he as loved and served you.
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