Nov 8 2019 Matthew 14: 13-21

‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’

In the beginning of this passage, Jesus tries to retreat in a boat by himself to a deserted place. But the crowds noticed, and followed him. When he got to his deserted place, it was full of people seeking healing. Jesus obliged, and healed them. In the evening, his disciples gently suggested that he should send them away. I’m guessing up to this point Jesus has not gotten his time away, and his disciples are also getting peopled-out. Send them away, so they can go buy food.

Again Jesus does not send them away, but tells the disciples to feed them. Then we get the story of feeding the 5000, not counting women and children. Of this familiar story, I’m intrigued by Jesus’ repeated returning to them.

I’m someone who needs occasionally to go away to a deserted place. I don’t love being alone, nor do I dislike people. But it’s in the stillness that I can process or think through what I’ve done and said, or what I should have done and said. Without my deserted still places, I tend to run on autopilot, which works much of the time, but not all of the time. I understand Jesus wanting to get a way to a deserted place.

And I understand the disciples wanting to send the people away. Their attempted dismissal was probably less about down-time processing and more about fatigue after a long day. There comes a time in my day, when I’m less than useful. I have friends who’ve affirmed this by saying that after a certain hour, I turn into a pumpkin. After years of understanding how I function, my husband and I have come to the agreement that we should not talk about difficult or contentious things, like how to care for our sick loved one, after 7:00pm. By that time, my resilience is greatly diminished, if not gone.

And yet, in a model of bad boundaries all around, Jesus heals the people, after seeking a deserted place. He sends the disciples back to feed the 5000. I’m struck by a sense of defeat and fatigue, thinking about that. Many years ago, I served as a consultant on a team conducting studies of governance models, how and at what cost should communities become cities. The lead consultant was out of town, and had needed some final work completed prior to his return. The pieces did not fall in to place, and I still had a more than full time job. By 10:00pm, I was still at the computer trying to finish up some analysis, and still needed to write up the report. I remember crying, because stopping was not an option. I had to go on, and I had nothing left, but pathetic tears.

But many years later, my son was in Army Ranger school. He learned there that when you think you have nothing left, you still have 40% left. Our body’s sense of self-preservation sends the warnings to slow down or stop well before we actually run out of gas. 

I’m not sure knowing this would help me at 9:00 at night in my current world, to voluntarily deal with a challenging issue at home. I think I’d still choose to go to a deserted place, or better, go to bed. But knowing that my tank isn’t really empty when it feels like it is, is a little comforting.

This morning, I’m thinking about all those times when Jesus asks us to return to the people who need healing or feeding. When I’m called to deal with my ill loved one, or a demanding call at work, or super-human expectations. Jesus sought a deserted place. We’re allowed to seek our deserted places, and sometimes that place is interrupted, or we’re called to return to the masses. I pray that I have the strength to heal, serve, feed, love, care and understand where I am called to, and that I know when I really need to depart to deserted place, and then turn my phone off.