Seeing People

Tomorrow is the last day of class for the semester, and then we have finals next week. I am pretty excited about this fact. I'm sure I've written this before, but finals week is always my favorite week of the semester, and I would not be at all disappointed if this final week was like last semester's, when we played Killball (or as you Northwesterners call it, Smashface) a couple hours every night. It blows my mind when I think about how fast this semester has gone. I think this is because this semester has not had as many "defining aspects" as some of my others semesters--some TV show to watch on the projector with the guys, or some girl to turn me down. These are the markers of my seasons of life, but this semester has probably been more constant. I guess that's what happens when you get older--life begins to meld into some ambiguous blog, and before you know it, you're eating breakfast at Bob Evans when you realize, "Holy moly! I'm an old man!"

I feel like I need a break. (Bear with my complaining for a moment; I promise I'll try to make it redeeming). I was thinking about this a while ago. I feel like I have not really had a true break since maybe last March. Almost as soon as I got out of school in May, I went to Oregon to do my internship there, and then a couple days after I got back, I came back to school. So I spent my entire summer teaching every Sunday morning and organizing events and such, and since then I have been preaching just about every week and trying to keep up with school. It feels like I need to be doing something every moment of the day, and I feel guilty if I even take a short nap or run out to get some Burger King. And I'm tired. I so much long for a week that I can sleep and watch basketball and not have to be concerned with all of the different responsibilities on my plate, and the problem is that I can't foresee that happening anytime in the near future.

But then I read about Jesus, and I realize how petty I can be sometimes. In Matthew 14:13, Jesus learns that John the Baptist has been killed. It's difficult to determine exactly what the relationship between John and Jesus was like, but every indication seems to point to the idea that there was a special bond between them. Understandably, Jesus is upset, so "he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place." For a little while at least, Jesus just wants to get away. For a moment, he tries to get away from the crowds so that he can grieve, but the multitudes aren't easily dodged. Instead, when they see Jesus in the boat, they run to meet him at the opposite shore. That's when Jesus does something that puts me to shame and silences my little complaints. "When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick" (Mt. 14:14).

Jesus had a special ability (understatement) of seeing people. Really seeing them. He perceived their needs, and not only that, but he loved them and had compassion on them. He didn't see them as an obstacle, an interruption, or an annoyance getting in the way of his rest. He saw them as his beloved, so he changed his plans in order to heal and feed them. I can't imagine that. There may not be a time when it is more acceptable to not do ministry than when grieving the death of a loved one, but Jesus continues to serve. How was he able to do this? Because he saw the bustling crowds as people created and loved by God.

Sometimes I stop and ask myself why I should keep going. I look for a reason not to quit. It would be so much easier to just push everything aside and do only what I want to do. In those times, it's imperative that I think about people. I have to make it less about the task and more about the people. If I just focus on my sermon itself and think about all of the research and writing and practicing that lies ahead of me, I feel burdened. But when I think about the people, when I focus on Vernon and Pauline and Bill, I am reminded that there is a reason to it all. Or, when I focus just on my homework and stare blankly at the stack of books on my desk that need reading, I find it difficult to be motivated to do much of anything. But when I turn my attention to how my preparation now will benefit the church I serve in the future, there is a new umph behind my tasks.

There will be times when we feel fatigued and worn down, and we would love nothing more than to crawl into our bed and forget about everything we have ahead of us. There will be times that we are far from home, living in a new community, missing our friends and family, and we would give anything to jump on an airplane and fly back. And there will be times when, after years of ministry, we begin to wonder if our entire lives have been in vain. In those moments, we might just need to step back, take a breath, and look at Jesus, because when we do that, he'll turn our attention to the faces of people. And that just might be the push we need.

Enjoy the Christmas music, Chuck.