The trouble with my "honey-do" list is, it is much too complicated for my limited brainpower! How am I supposed to remember all the things I am expected to do? How am I supposed to keep it all straight? 3
I am about to walk out the front door, and I hear: “Oh, you’re going out to make a hospital visit? That reminds me that I have a prescription at the drugstore; could you get it for me? And speaking of the store, could you go to the grocery and get some milk (skim, not 2%) and some bread (pita wheat, salt-free, low calorie light, not whole grain, and not the house brand, because it’s not on sale), and some dog food (remember that Chloe likes sliced chicken, not ground beef, and Scruffy prefers gourmet delight)? And speaking of delight, would you please climb up back here, right back here, and replace de-light that’s burned? And speaking of my back, it hurts and could you massage it before you go?"
Yeah, right. Sure, no problem. Off I go, with this string of assignments rattling around in my brain. Do I have it all straight? Sure I do! So why am I in trouble when three hours later I come back with exactly what she asked for: ice cream (gourmet select); and a chicken pot pie; and low calorie dog biscuits? Wasn’t that it? And why am I in trouble just because I stood at the drugstore counter and was completely unable to tell the clerk why I was there? Why am I in deep, deep trouble because it’s now so dark in the family room that you can’t see the family? I massaged your aching back, didn’t I? Got something right, didn’t I?
Too many details; too many expectations. Most of us live with multiplied demands. Most of us put up pressure on us from all sides. Some of us tolerate it very well, and never lose our cool. Others of us prefer to do one thing at a time and get it done before we start something else. For us, life is full of interruptions. It’s hard to stay on the path and just do what you planned to do.
A typical scene here in your church office. It’s Wednesday morning, and we’re getting started on the day. I’ve come in with a list of projects to discuss with our church secretary. I stand in front of her desk and launch into an explanation of some task: "Now notice that we are going to have to be very careful right here ... " The phone rings. I cool my heels while someone transacts a piece of business. The call is finished. "Okay, LoLinda, as I was saying, right here is a very tricky piece of typing ... " Somebody is at the door.
You come in, we exchange greetings, you wanted to ask me a couple of questions. Of course I stop and respond to those questions. Then, back to LoLinda: "Now, where was I? Oh, yes, right here in this document, notice how we have put in right at this place ... " There’s a bang on the back door, and the first wave of Wednesday Club guests have to be let in. By now I have forgotten what I was trying to say, and LoLinda has figured it out anyway. Interruptions. Hard to stay on the path and just do what you planned to do. Can you identify with that?
There are two spiritual issues here. The spiritual issues of distraction and drain. Feeling distracted and feeling drained. When we feel pressure from those who want a piece of us, we feel distracted, diverted from what we think we really ought to be doing. And then we feel drained; responding to what others want us to do tires us out, drains us. But today I want to look at the positive side of all this. I want us to see how, if we are meeting human needs, there is another way to look at feeling distracted and drained.
One day Jesus was pursuing His mission. As we learned last week, he had been urged by Jairus, the prominent leader of the synagogue, to come and help Jairus’ twelve-year-old daughter, who was dying. We watched as Jesus responded to the passionate pleas of a father, willing to sacrifice his dignity, set aside his inhibitions, and just pray out his heart. Jesus was more than ready to respond; the agenda for His day had been set out clearly. He knew exactly what His plans for the day were.
But something interrupted Him. Someone moved to distract and drain Him.
On His way to Jairus’ house, Jesus was pulled aside. The crowds pressed in on Him. They wouldn’t leave Him alone. They wanted a piece of Him, right now. Not tomorrow, no, right now. In fact, no, not even right now; they want it yesterday! Scratch me where I itch. Massage me where I ache. Me. Now.
And then we learn further that Jesus dallied with a woman who had a chronic illness. For twelve years she had suffered a hemorrhage, and she needed help. Jesus stopped to deal with her. Now that’s all well and good, except that if you had been Jairus, how would you have felt?
Jesus, you are supposed to be on your way to my house to help my daughter. Have you lost track of what you are doing? You are dealing with this woman? Help me, Jesus; do what I want done. Now. Right now. No, yesterday.
And, wouldn’t you just know it, they come and say, "Jairus, your daughter is dead." It’s too late, Jairus. He delayed and now look at what’s happened. Jesus got sidetracked, interrupted, and now He’s messed up.
I
But, you see, Jesus knew that it is never wrong to deal with the need that is right in front of you. Jesus responded to the need of the moment. He did not brush her aside with some quick fix, some meaningless nostrum. Not from Him, "Take two aspirins and call me in the morning"! She pressed in on Him, and He saw the call of God to deal with her hurt, immediately and decisively. Stopping to heal this sick woman on His way to do something else was not just a distraction; it was not an evasion of His priorities; it was not a tiresome by-path. It was the main highway. It was the call of the moment, and He responded.
You and I need to learn that time and again God puts into our paths persons who need us right now. To see a human need, to know that we have the resources to meet that need, and to feel compassion for the person in need … that is the call of God. Don’t wait to hear bells and whistles; don’t wait to be blinded by a bolt of lightning; just see that people with needs. If we can meet those needs, that is where God wants us to be. Our carefully worked out timetables and our meticulously crafted plans for time and money and talents … all of these are fine.
But real human needs take priority. They are God’s plan.
Several years ago, when I was Baptist Chaplain at the University of Maryland, I had the busiest day I think I have ever experienced. I had been asked to speak that night at the midweek dinner and prayer service at First Baptist Church downtown; they wanted some kind of report on what we were doing in campus ministry. And so that morning, bright and early, I began work on my speech. I thought about impressing them with statistics about the university ... how many students, how many buildings. I knew I would have to talk to them about our campus program ... about Bible studies and retreats and weekly lunch programs and all the rest. I supposed I ought also to tell them about the things I hoped to do in the future ... ministry with faculty, dormitory Bible studies, and so on. Lots of plans, lots of activity. That would be my report.
But not ten minutes after I began making notes that morning the first interruption occurred. A student came running in, crying, upset about his parents, who were about to divorce. An hour went into listening to him. When he left, I turned back to my notes, and had just put pen to paper when a young couple I didn’t even know stuck their heads in the door and inquired about getting married ... today! Well, no, I didn’t do an instant wedding, but I did spend an hour or so trying to help them see what marriage was all about. By that time some of our students had begun to arrive for the luncheon meeting, and there was food to prepare and a room to set up and Bibles to be spread around and a few thoughts to gather.
When that meeting was over, one young woman sat in a corner, hanging her head; I went over to her, and she nearly collapsed, talking about feeling sick. Another student and I jumped in my car and took her to the university health service. When I got back to the office from the clinic, three students were waiting to talk with me about a program they were planning. This kind of thing never stopped, all day long! Now you have already guessed that when it came time for me to drive downtown, breaking every speed law on the books, I still had not put pen to paper to write my speech. What would I tell the people of First Baptist Church? How could I make them understand where we were heading in our campus ministry program, when I had not done one thing to move our strategy plan forward that day?
Then it struck me. What a dummy! What did I think I had been doing all day? I had called it interruptions; but God called it meeting human needs, just as they presented themselves. So I just told the church about my day. That’s all. I just told them about persons. The call of God is to meet human needs, right here and now, as they present themselves. That is not a distraction from the path; it is not a by-way. That is the path. That is God’s call, God’s priority.
II
All right then. So meeting human need is not a distraction. It is the basic call of God. But the other spiritual issue is drain. It certainly is draining, exhausting to serve others, isn’t it? Haven’t you felt absolutely exhausted, emotionally drained, because you were working with such needy people?
In my counseling, the hardest work I do is dealing with people in conflict. Nothing is more exhausting than an hour spent with a husband and wife literally screaming at each other and accusing each other of high crimes and misdemeanors. My task is to get them to tell the truth, get them to hear each other, teach them to fight fair. When a session like that is over, I am ready for a strong cup of coffee and a long nap! It’s hard work, draining, to deal with human need.
So I can readily understand what Jesus is talking about when He says, "Someone touched me; for I noticed that power had gone out from me." When His life and the life of the chronically ill woman intersected, something drained from Him. Power left Him. And He felt that.
But now watch this. Power drained from Him at that moment, but it did not deplete Him. He used some power, but He went on to do something even greater! Energy left Jesus when He healed this woman, and He did feel the drain, but He still had power, greater power, enough to raise the young daughter of Jairus.
You see, when we give to others, we do not deplete ourselves. We may drain ourselves for a time, we may use some power, but actually we prepare ourselves for something even greater. When we share our energies and our finances and our hearts with those who need us, it may tire us for the moment; but our God has a way of building us up, so that we can do even more the next time! The more we give away, the more power we gain!
I’ve come to enjoy the TV show "E.R." E. R. is Emergency Room, it centers on a cast of doctors and nurses who have to respond to a host of medical crises. The show has a fast pace; just as the E. R. team meets one crisis and gets it halfway under control, something else is coming in. A shooting, an accident, an attempted suicide, a childbirth – all kinds of things, each one demanding and exhausting. Every member of that team feels the drain of all that work and all that emotion. And yet, each time some new crisis strikes, no matter how tired they are or how late in the day it is, the adrenaline pumps, the orders are barked out, their skills are put into play, and they do not yield to their weariness. Reserves of energy come up, because, you see, meeting human needs may be tiring, but it does not really deplete us. Meeting human needs strengthens us for even greater service. It empowers us; our God will replenish and multiply all that we use in serving others.
Serving human needs, as they present themselves, is not a distraction; it is God’s claim on us. And it is not a drain; it is the source of power.
III
But now let me conclude with a word about the life of our church. You and I as God’s people in this church are going to be called on, again and again, to meet the needs of others around us. Many times the claims that they will place on us will seem like a distraction. Here we are, trying to renovate our building and develop our leadership and create a dynamic worship experience. Here we are, working on choirs and Sunday School classes and prayer meetings.
And it might feel like a distraction, tutoring some student or repairing some marriage or picking up some abandoned child. It might feel like we’re off on the wrong track, organizing more and more community ministries. But no, I believe that that is the main track. That is God’s call.
And it might feel, too, as though these things are exhausting and draining. It will cost us in time and money to do an after-school program. It already costs us a good deal to operate our Wednesday Club for the mentally impaired. It will cost all of us emotion and energy and struggle if we are able to create a senior adult residence. But, again, I do not believe that spending on any of these things will deplete us. It may stretch us for a while, but it will not destroy us. Spending on human needs will empower us for even greater things in the future.
The only question is, "Will we feel the folks on the fringe?" "Will we feel the folks on the fringe?" Many of the persons in our community are fringe people, marginalized people. They are not necessarily well-educated, healthy, middle-class folks. They are on the fringes. And that means we have to be very attentive, or we won’t even know they are there or what they need.
Did you notice how it happened? "She came up behind [Jesus] and touched the fringe of His clothes ... then Jesus asked, ’Who touched me?’ ... When the woman saw that she could not remain hidden, she came trembling; and falling down before Him, she declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched Him, and how she had been immediately healed."
She touched the fringe of His clothes and He asked, "Who touched me?" On the fringe there are plenty of people reaching out to touch our church. On the fringe there are lonely people, and, if we are not as attentive as Jesus, we will not see their need for friendship. On the fringe there are children being abused and abandoned, and, if we are not as sensitive as Jesus, we will think they are somebody else’s problem. On the fringe there are the outcasts we’d almost rather not even know about: AIDS patients, drug abusers, alcoholics, homeless people. It’s possible to live without ever hearing their cries or feeling the touch of their shaking hands. They are on the fringe. But the woman touched the fringe of his clothes, and Jesus felt her. He took the time to ask, "Who touched me?"
Who touches you today? Whose needs eat at your heart? Whose languished cry comes to your ears? An appeal to the fringe: look at those who seem to distract us from what we want to do with our lives. Remember, the fringe is God’s call for your life.
An appeal to the fringe; it may threaten us, because it could be draining. It could be exhausting to spend money and time and energy serving someone on the margins. But, even if it’s tiring, it won’t deplete us. It will only prepare us for something even greater.
An appeal to the fringe. Who touches us? Who touches us now? In serving them, sick as they are, there is for us: power.
