withdrawing to a lonely place...
"and he withdrew to a lonely place..."
Jesus did. He needed to withdraw. He needed to be in a lonely place. He needed to get away from the clamor of the crowds, from the voices of the masses. He needed to be alone.
I don't know all the reasons why, but I have some hunches. I think he got tired. I think he felt spent, wasted on certain days. I think he grew weary in well doing. I think he lost his passion as the well went dry and he felt himself printing green when there wasn't any gold in the vaults to substantiate it. You can only print green so long without gold to back it up. In economic terms it leads to inflation. I think everyone, including Jesus, can tell when inflation is happening. When the outside and the inside don't look anything alike. When the actions of the exterior don't match the inactions of the interior. And so, like Jesus, we all need to withdraw to a lonely place to recover our hearts and find the healing that only comes in obscurity and simplicity and serenity.
I've felt for several weeks now that my heart can't keep up with my body. And I wonder, did Jesus feel this? Did his body give out? Did he come to end of himself? Did he reach his breaking point? Did he feel a nervous breakdown coming on? Did he sense a red-lining in the midst of the silver-lining? Did he feel his divinity being challenged by his humanity? Did he reach the end of his rope? I wonder. I don't know. All I know is that he OFTEN withdrew to LONELY places. And that, my puny readership, is a big stinkin' deal. The Son of God gave way to the Son of Man and made a beeline for the contemplative hills of anonymity. He left everyone's needs and wants and whims and tended to his own heart. He sought for validation from his heavenly father. Often.
This week, I'm doing this. I don't do this near enough, but this week, I am. And you can't stop me. I simply must find the rehabilitation that comes from solitude and solidarity. I have to escape the Tyranny of the Urgent. I have to come to grips with my limitations and put guardrails around my heart. I'm am in withdrawal for withdrawing.
Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for being human. Thank you for loving people like you loved yourself. On most days I like you because you showed us how to love people; today I like you because you showed us how to love ourselves. Thanks for loving yourself and giving us permission to do the same. I don't know why, some days I just need that kind of permission.