As any newbie preacher would - when Pastor Rob and I decided that today would be my first Sunday to preach, I immediately went and looked up the lectionary readings for today. As I read through the Gospel lesson, I thought to myself - “Oh great, my first Sunday to preach and I get the bookends of two really exciting and important stories.” Because, if you look closely, that’s exactly what we have this morning. Did you notice the comma that skips over several verses in our appointed reading? We have four verses - skip 19 verses - and then we have four more verses. In the 19 verses we skip today - we find the stories of Jesus feeding the 5000 and Jesus walking on water. Pretty important stories, right? They are some of my favorites! But, our Gospel reading for today, seems to serve only as the bookends of these stories - transitional narratives - linking together one section to another. These transitions are the threads that tie the stories together.
And so I thought: “My first Sunday preaching for a congregation of people, who have taken a leap of faith and called me to be their intern, people who are expecting greatness (or maybe I just expect myself to be great for them) - and I get - transitions.” And then it hit me all too plainly in the face. Transitions are something I know something about. I’m currently living one of the biggest transitions of my entire life. I’ve been in ministry for fifteen years, seminary for four years, and this new adventure - this internship at First Lutheran and Prince of Peace - is my transition between being a minister and becoming a pastor. I feel blessed, and nervous, and excited, and anxious, and sad, and welcomed, and overwhelmed - and like I’m living right in the middle of my own transitional narrative.
What about you? Maybe you are living in a time of transition, too - a time between this part of life and that part of life. And even if you aren’t in the middle of a transition right now, there is a good possibility that you just came out of a transition - or you are just getting ready to enter into one. All of us are all too familiar with the feelings and emotions that transitions bring. They are an unavoidable part of living as human beings on this earth.
Transitions are also an unavoidable part of community - living collectively together in this world. Culture goes through times of transition, societies go through transitions; Christendom has gone through many transitions. Towns, schools, families and even churches go through times of transition. In some ways, First Evangelical Lutheran Church in Tulsa, Oklahoma - you as the body of Christ in this place - are in a collective time of transition. We can’t escape them - and so, this morning, I would like for us to see what we can glean from today’s Gospel lesson regarding these times we know all too well.
When we zoom out from this morning’s Gospel text, we see in verses 7-13 that Jesus sends the disciples out two by two on a mission. They go throughout the countryside casting out demons, healing the sick, and calling people to repentance. Then, the writer of Mark gives us the tasty little bit about John the Baptist’s head on a platter which we talked about last week, and finally, in verse 30 (where we pick up today) we find that all of the disciples have come back together again, after their time spent apart. They are catching up - shooting the breeze, as my dad might say. The disciples gather around Jesus to tell stories about where they have been, what they have taught, what they have seen. This happens all the time, right? A friend or family member goes on vacation and they come back home with stories to tell - some stories crazier than others - but we all gather around to hear of their adventures. So, after their mission, the disciples come together to reconnect and to tell their stories. It is a time of transition from one mission experience to the next. And it is then that Jesus tells them to come away him to a deserted place to rest.
In the time between this and that - comes rest. In the time between this big life even and that big life event - comes rest. That sounds lovely, doesn’t it? But has that been your experience? It hasn’t been mine. When you transition from a child living at home to an empty nest - is the transition a time of rest? Is the transition between being single and married, a time of rest? When you transition from caring for an aging parent who needs constant care to coping with the loss of that parent, is it a time of rest? Going to college, starting a new job, retirement - are these ever times of rest? I’m not sure they ever are.
We can’t overlook, in today’s text, the words: “deserted place.” Jesus says: “Come away to a deserted place, all by yourselves, and rest a while.” However, this time of rest doesn’t mean that they get to crawl into bed and turn on Netflix - because Jesus leads them to a deserted place. And in the Scriptures...the “wilderness” or “deserted places” are always places of struggle and testing. God led Moses and the Israelites into the wilderness where they wandered for years. David and Elijah both hid in deserted places from the people who wanted to kill them. And even Jesus himself spent for forty days in the wilderness wrestling with evil. When Jesus says, “Come to a deserted place” - that should have been a red flag for the disciples! Not the wilderness!
Times of transition often feel like the wilderness, don’t they, like deserted places of the soul? Transitions - no matter how good they are - can feel lonely, unsettling, and unfamiliar. After all, they create change and change is never comfortable. And yet, throughout the Scriptures, we find that it is in the wilderness that people encounter the living God. In the wilderness, God provides sustenance, protection, direction - and even renewal. In the wilderness we learn to trust God. In the wilderness - in times of transition, God is always working to bring about new life. God is working to create something new.
The transition narratives in our text for today are also marked with evidence of Jesus’ deep compassion for people. When Jesus and the disciples reach the deserted place, they are met with a swarm of people in need. The people are hungry, but not for food. They have heard what this Jesus can do, and they are so hungry for what he has to offer, that they don’t just follow him around - they proactively anticipate where Jesus is headed and go to meet him. Actually, the text uses these words - hurried and rushed. They hurry and rush to meet him because they are so hungry to be known, to be seen, to be fed and to be healed by this man. And Jesus does see them - he sees their deep hunger - and he has compassion for them. But compassion isn’t just something Jesus has, because compassion isn’t just a personality characteristic - oh, he’s a compassionate person - but an uncontrollable gut emotion. It doesn’t quite come through in the English language - but the Greek word that is translated to compassion actually means - to be moved in the inward parts; or to have the bowels yearn. To have the bowels yearn. That is uncontrollable compassion. German gets it close - the word MITLEID (mit-lide) - means “with suffering.” Compassion means that our inner parts are so deeply moved that our bowels yearn with suffering. True compassion suffers alongside those who are the focus of our compassion. This compassion stops Jesus dead in his tracks, changes his plans, and compels him to take action.
In our own deserted places, we encounter people and situations that need us to be compassionate. Our text for today reminds us that times of transition are not always only about us. Although there are times when we must have compassion with ourselves, we can’t focus on only ourselves - our own struggles. Sometimes we must also look beyond ourselves. We are called to see the hunger of others as Jesus would and from a place of compassion, deeply moved to suffer with them, we are called to care for others and stand in solidarity with them in their suffering. And when we do … well, sometimes we open ourselves up to be hurt. Compassion means to suffer with - and sometimes it feels like getting punched in the stomach. But sometimes - miracles happen. People are fed, people see Jesus walking in their lives in a new way, their fears are calmed, and people are healed and restored to wholeness.
Our text for today ends with these words: “And wherever [Jesus] 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.” The people who encountered Jesus were in such need, they begged only to touch the fringe of his cloak. And when they did - they were healed, they were made whole. Their brokenness no longer defined them, but they were freed by the grace of Christ and made new - and sent back into the world to proclaim the good news.
Transitions can bring healing and healing can bring about a new mission. Within my first seven days at First Lutheran Church, I heard more than one person speak these words to me: “This church saved my life.” It wasn’t a trite cliche - I could tell that they truly meant their words: “This church saved my life.” That’s a powerful statement, my friends. The mission of Jesus was one of reconciliation, healing and wholeness - he invites the church to participate in this mission - and you are! - whether you realize it or not. This church is providing healing and wholeness to people hungry for the grace Jesus offers. Which makes me wonder ... What would it look like if you fully and daringly embraced your role as the fringe of Jesus’ cloak? How might God be calling us to embrace a new mission during our time of transition? There is a big city out there - people in need of healing and wholeness and grace - how might we actively and intentionally be the good news of God’s healing grace to our neighbors in this time and in this place?
I have come to realize that really important stuff happens in the transitions. Transitions are the threads that tie our lives together. They lead us from mission to mission. Even though they are hard and messy, the good news for today is that God works in them and through them to bring about something new, something good, something powerful that can change the world. Thank you for being the thread that ties my life of ministry together. May this be a time of hope, healing, and rebirth for us all. Amen.
I have come to realize that really important stuff happens in the transitions. Transitions are the threads that tie our lives together. They lead us from mission to mission. Even though they are hard and messy, the good news for today is that God works in them and through them to bring about something new, something good, something powerful that can change the world. Thank you for being the thread that ties my life of ministry together. May this be a time of hope, healing, and rebirth for us all. Amen.
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