When He Left

Hot sun melting below the horizon. End of a long day.
More sick come. More healing. More demon-possessed come.
This is taxing on the body and soul.

And so He left.
Woke up in the morning and instead of rejoining the needy, He left.
Left for a desolate place.
The Son of God left.
Left the people, left the needs, left the crowds, left the friends.

Of course, one can't leave for long (you know it's true).
The curious found him and "would have kept him from leaving them."
There was a "must" imprinted on His soul, so instead of serving the same crowds, he left to follow the Father's will.
Luke 4:40-44

Two boats, two brothers, enough fish to sink a boat.
The two brothers set aside for a time homes, jobs, families, all for Him.
A man bitterly diseased: healed.
The media got wind of this action. More people needed Him. More people wanted to listen.
So... he left.
And not just once, over and again.
"But He would withdraw to desolate places and pray."
Luke 5:11-16

Religious leaders stunned, academics offended, puzzling questions answered, societal guidelines ignored. He taught in the fields, He taught in the homes of wealthy, corrupt men, He taught the "religious" on Sunday mornings, too.
Right smack dab in the middle of all this teaching,
He left.
Hiked a mountain to pray all night.

Day came, He knew exactly what He needed to do: Name the 12 men who would follow him until his betrayal. Eleven would follow him after he rose.
Luke 6:12-16

My carpet hasn't been vacuumed this week. O.K., it's been longer than a week.
One and a half year olds who are learning to pee in the toilet need affirmation, attention, "Llama Llama Red Pajama" stories, hugs, naps, time-outs, crackers, yes, more time-outs.
There are friends I need to call, Father's day gifts I need to send (and not because I'm thinking ahead to next Father's Day), blueberries that need to be washed and frozen before they mush forever, a Greek alphabet I need to learn, and roughly 69 boxes to pack this month.
Shall I reconsider?
In light of Luke 4, 5, and 6, I reflect.

The Son of God,
the Rescuer of sinful man,
the Perfect One,
left
to
pray.

The Training Instructor's Favorite

My first day of basic training I was told to sit perfectly still until my training instructor returned. He came back after just over five hours. I'd rather be hit in the face with an agitated puffer fish then ever try to sit still for that long again.

By the end of basic I'd hands-down been in trouble more often and had to do more push-ups than anyone else in my flight of 56 guys. I was also the training instructor's favorite. I know this because he told me, right before I got sent outside to move four hundred sandbags for no apparent reason other than I was his favorite.

One time I got in trouble for dancing in the kitchen while on KP duty. My punishment was... unpleasant. I say "one time" because that is not the kind of thing you want to get in trouble for twice.

Inside our bathroom was a vent that went up, over, and down into the girl's bathroom of our sister flight. Needless to say when our respective instructors were absent, there was much communication through the vent. I won fifteen dollars for doing an imitation of our First Sergeant into that vent. Word somehow reached our instructor and the next day I found myself doing that same imitation, only not into a vent.

My job in the flight was to roll shirts. I figured out a way to use two drawers side-by-side that made every shirt turn out immaculate, far above what was expected for inspection. Every guy had five PT shirts, six white undershirts and six tan undershirts. Times sixty.

One night for no apparent reason my entire body broke into hives. To this day I have no idea what caused it. Bees?

I don't remember ever feeling as proud as the day I had my name tag sewn on my uniform. It's strange to me how strongly I felt and still do feel about it.

My sisters sent me letters that occasionally had pictures in them. I'll never forget how powerful a letter or a picture can be.

During the six weeks when I'd never seen so much hazing (or public ridiculing), cursing or anger in my life, God turned what started out as two of us praying together every night into well over twenty guys gathering every night in the shower... the only place we'd all fit without waking the others up.

And I will never forget the day my drill instructor walked up behind me at breakfast and said
"You might want to get up. Now." Then flipped our entire table full of food into the air.
I'm pretty sure none of the cockroaches survived the fall.