Finding What It Takes

Today we are finishing up our sermon series called “The Biggies.” You’ll remember that our basic contention is that to make the most of 2006 there are certain things we must do.  We’ve been calling these things “The Biggies.”

So here is the point today, the sermon in a nutshell.  For 2006 to be our best year yet, we need enough personal energy to make this year different from all the rest.

If, for instance, we want to walk more closely with God than we ever have before, we need to have the energy to make that happen.  Carving out the time in our schedules, protecting them from lesser things, engaging in the disciplines that promote spiritual health all take great personal energy.

Or if we want to improve our relationships in 2006—be the best friend we’ve ever been, the best parent or spouse—it’s going to take lots of energy.  Doing things together, working on correcting bad habits or creating better patterns of behavior, being willing to forgive when necessary instead of just getting angry all require significant investments of personal energy.

The list could go on.  If I want to achieve greater mastery in my professional life, that’s going to take lots of energy.  But whatever it is I want to do, if I want to change, to do life differently, to resist old behaviors, to engage in new ones, it all takes energy.

So…where do we find the energy we need to make 2006 the year we believe it can be?

Well, as it turns out, this is something this morning’s Gospel addresses.  We see that after the long and demanding day in the life of Jesus that Mark has presented to us, Jesus goes to a deserted place and prays.  Might I be so bold as to suggest this gives us a model to follow?

Consider how following Jesus’ example will promote the kind of renewal that is just what we need to fill up our personal energy reserves.

First, Jesus is not always available, accessible, or plugged in to those around Him.  He gets up early enough—while it is still very dark—that no one else is awake.  He goes to a place that is remote enough that His disciples have to hunt for Him.  He is not easily found or reached.

For many of us—myself included—just following Jesus’ lead in this one simple thing would change our lives.

In our day and age, our culture is moving in exactly the opposite direction.  We live in a day and age where more and more people feel like they always have to be available, accessible, wired up, turned on.

Take, for instance, this paragraph from a recent article in The Wall Street Journal:

So it's come to this. The humble bathroom, long a place of refuge and solitude, is playing quiet host to more workplace transactions. Bathroom business has gone way beyond tapping out furtive emails on a BlackBerry. Lately, more hard-driving homeowners have converted their loos into virtual satellite workspaces, with retractable desks or waterproof touch-screen monitors.[i]

The article goes on to say that more and more homeowners want toilet-side technology as part of the broader move to trade contemplative solitude for networked productivity.

As an example of what this looks like, they give the example of a Wall Street investor whose bathroom is designed  (at $150,000) to make him productive the moment he opens his eyes.  When he shuts off his alarm, towel warmers switch on, the floor warms and the toilet seat heats up.  When he turns on his faucet, a 15-inch LCD screen appears in the mirror with a touch panel full of icons; he can click on a  logo to see his portfolio, an "email" logo to check messages, and a "TV" logo for morning financial news. Behind that screen is a computer.

Just what we all need, right?

Here’s the thing.  People simply weren’t made to be “on” all the time.  Scripture clearly teaches that, and modern medical science backs up the principle over and over again.

We all know what happens to battery-powered devices when they are left on without a chance to recharge.  They go dead.

It’s the same thing with people.  If we are always “on”—always in a position of responding to the needs of those around us without having a chance to recharge—we’ll wear out, plain and simple. 

So sometimes, friends, you just need to disconnect.  Power off.  Wind down.

Second, I notice Jesus goes to a special place.    The chief characteristic seems to be that it is deserted and so free from the distractions and tasks of His regular public life.

In the same way, many people find that having a place where they can get away from it all is helpful.  Sometimes it might just be a special chair in the house, maybe with a candle burning beside it.  Sometimes it might be a walk through the garden.  Sometimes maybe it’s a walk in the woods.

It is interesting to me that Jesus often seemed to seek out nature, perhaps because in the glories of creation He deeply sensed His father’s loving presence.  Stephen Covey, in his classic book The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, writes:  Nature  bequeaths its own blessing on those who immerse themselves in it  When you are able to leave the noise and the discord of the city and give yourself up to the harmony and rhythm of nature, you come back renewed.  For a time, you’re undisturbable, almost unflappable, until gradually the noise and the discord from outside start to invade that sense of inner peace.[ii]

That’s the value of having a special place which, free from the distractions and obligations of our regular routines, allows us to experience God’s presence more easily. 

And that brings us to the final thing I notice Jesus did.  He prayed. To Jesus, of course, prayer was not a mechanical duty.  To the contrary, it was the source of His life in releasing and multiplying His energies.

Here is the simple truth.  We can’t give what we don’t have.  And we can’t sacrifice too long while reaping too little from it without burning ourselves out.

What happens to so many of us is that as a result of good intentions and doing what we are supposed to do—building a great career, committing to helping organizations, loving our family—we sacrifice ourselves over and over and over. 

Over time, if that sacrificing of ourselves—our own needs, hopes, dreams, and aspirations—goes unchecked, the result will be a downward and negative spiral.   Even if we ignore, deny, or pretend we can live with continuous sacrifices, stress always leaks out somewhere and, whether knowingly or unknowingly, adversely affects our life and relationships.

My point here is not that we shouldn’t make significant sacrifices; I believe wholeheartedly that we should.  But I also believe that such sacrifice must be interspersed with the kind of renewal and restoration of energy that Jesus experiences in the Gospel reading this morning.

That is why prayer is so essential.  It reinforces our values, renews our spirits, strengthens  and centers us so that we, like Jesus, are ready to serve with enthusiasm—a word derived from the Greek “en Theos” or “in God”—so that we are vitally plugged into the flow of His divine energy.

Spiritual renewal, friends, is absolutely essential to the life well lived.  Yes, it takes an investment of time, but the truth is we don’t have time to neglect it. 

There is so much that is so very good about living in Northern Virginia.  But after almost 5 years of life here I think I can safely identify one of the biggest potential issues people in this area struggle with:  we tend to live such busy lives that more often than not we are tired and worn out. 

Friends, this sermon is not asking you to add one more thing to an already overburdened schedule. It is asking you to be different, to be willing to slow down if even just a bit, to be willing to let go of those things which may not be as important as we’d like to think, and to make time for that which is most important of all, time spent with the Lord our God.

As God promises us in the book of Isaiah:

those who hope in the LORD
       will renew their strength.
       They will soar on wings like eagles;
       they will run and not grow weary,
       they will walk and not be faint.

Amen.