July 21, 2024
Rev. Mary Erickson
Hope Lutheran Church
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The Balance between Renewing and Doing
Friends, may grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus our Lord.
We Americans have a love affair with being busy. When asked, “How are you?” a common answer is, “Busy!”
We want to be seen as productive, not idle. Our schedules and the demands of work and life keep us straining at the yoke. In every moment we’re pulling our burden forward.
On average, Americans receive only 11 days of paid vacation per year, way below the rest of the world. And on a day-to-day basis, 48% of Americans indicate that they skip lunch at least once per week. They just don’t have the time in their busy schedules. Or they’re afraid that, if they take the time for lunch, they won’t get all their work done. It’s even worse for Gen Z. 70% of Gen Z skip lunch at least once a week.
So busy, we’re so busy! How do we find a balance between duty and the need for renewal and rest?
Our gospel reading today depicts the difficulty of this tenuous balance. The disciples have just returned from their first mission trip. Jesus had sent them into the surrounding Galilee area in groups of two. When they returned, they regaled Jesus with all they’d seen and accomplished.
Jesus, very sensibly, said what was needed now was a time for rest. “Let’s get away to a deserted place where we can rest for a spell.” Mark tells us they were so busy coming and going that they didn’t even have time to eat. I guess they had that lunch problem back then, too.
So off they go in their boats. Meanwhile, the crowds of people on land saw them take off. They saw the direction they were taking and guessed where they were headed to. This crowd of people so wants to be with Jesus and the disciples that they high tail it along the shoreline, and they arrive at this “lonely spot” before Jesus and his disciples beach their boats.
So much for R and R! Jesus begins to teach them.
Our story today takes a break here. According to Mark, Jesus goes on to feed the crowd of 5000 some people. We’ll hear that story next Sunday. This morning our story line leapfrogs ahead to what happens next. Jesus and his disciples get into their boats once again. This time they head to the land of Gennesaret. But as soon as they get out of their boats, people immediately recognize them. They bring their sick and lay them before Jesus. It’s the same wherever he goes – cities, villages, farms.
Jesus doesn’t put off the crowds. He doesn’t say, “Now, folks, everyone needs a day off. Please give us a breather and come back tomorrow.” So even though Jesus told his disciples they needed to rest, Jesus doesn’t take his own advice.
We’re caught in this same bind. We recognize our need for rest and renewal. We acknowledge our creatureliness. We’re biological, physical creatures. And we’re limited by our biology. We NEED rest, we NEED to take care of ourselves. We get that.
Today we’re worshiping in a “lonely place.” This is our summer outdoor worship, and we gather here in this lovely setting on the banks of the Chippewa River. We enjoy the fresh breeze, we drink in the view of the river and surrounding banks. There’s something about nature that restores our souls. We’re energized by being outside, connecting with the earth below and sky above.
And we recognize the need to take time aside to be regenerated. This last week our team of young people and their chaperones were in New Orleans for the ELCA Youth Gathering. It’s an intense week, but also one that stimulates and deepens faith. These gathering attendees are like the disciples who came back from their mission trip, all stoked up from what they’d experienced.
Our church team returned late last night or early this morning, depending on how you look at it. And guess what: they’re not here today! They’re taking Jesus’ advice and resting for a while! There will be time for them to share their experiences with us. But for now, rest is what is most needed.
Are we busy doing, or are we renewing? There’s a conflicting biblical imperative to do both.
• We’re directed to the command for sabbath rest.
• But we’re also commissioned into a life of mission.
• Jesus said, “Come unto me, all ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I shall give you rest."
• But he also said, “Take up your cross and follow me.”
We’re stuck in the middle of a conundrum. If we don’t mind ourselves, we’ll be left feeling guilty all the time. We suffer remorse for not resting when we should. But by the same token, when we do sit and rest for a spell, then we feel like we’re slacking, we’re not pulling our share.
Jesus directed his disciples to come away to a lonely place to rest and renew their spirits. What ended up deflecting him was his heart of compassion. Jesus felt compassion when he saw the great need, the yearning of so many.
Time and again, it was this compassion that led Jesus to forego his own weariness for the need of those he came to minister. And it was this very compassion which led him to his greatest sacrifice. It was compassion that impelled Jesus to give his everything at Calvary.
The most compelling line in today’s gospel reading is the description of what triggered Jesus’ compassion. He looked at the mass of people coming. Mark tells us that “they were like sheep without a shepherd.”
Jesus came to be their shepherd. And as he said elsewhere, the good shepherd lays down his life for the sake of the sheep. This is what Jesus would do. It’s where his compassion will ultimately lead him. He has come to be our great shepherd. He’s come to conquer all our mortal enemies: sin, death, and the power of the devil.
It was through his complete sacrifice of all that he is, through pouring out every last ounce of his being, that he has accomplished the greatest turnaround the world has ever known. In shedding his blood, he has brought the forgiveness of sin. In succumbing to death, he has delivered life without end.
Jesus’ compassion was the compassion of the eternal divine. This divinely sourced compassion is greater than our own. It’s an upwelling, never ending spring. Its source is that of heaven, from eternity to eternity.
And by comparison, our compassion: it may well compel us to give of ourselves in such a way that it overrides concern for our own welfare. But unlike our Lord Jesus Christ, our compassion is of this created realm. It is finite. It will run out. We can only go for so long, and then we’re exhausted, burned out and depressed.
And so we find ourselves maneuvering the delicate balance between doing and renewing. It’s like our breath. Breathing requires both inhaling and exhaling. When we inhale, we receive. We receive the oxygen that revives our energy. And when we exhale, we exert our energies for action in the world. But breathing is both. It’s both receiving and giving. This is the balance we strive for.
There is physical rest, and there is spiritual rest. Our spiritual rest finds its renewal in Christ Jesus our Lord. In closing I remember the words of one of my father’s favorite hymns:
I heard the voice of Jesus say,
“Come unto me and rest.
Lay down, oh weary one, lay down
Thy head upon my breast!”
I came to Jesus as I was,
so weary, worn and sad.
I found in him a resting place,
and he has made me glad.
