I love preaching on the Gospel of Mark, because the Gospel of Mark is a lot like camp. It starts with a bang; it moves at a crazy speed; it never really lets up; and it never loses sight of the point of it all. You may notice that this is Mark, chapter 1, and already a lot has happened! Jesus has been born and named and baptized; we’ve met John the Baptist; Jesus has called some disciples; he has exorcised some demons… and it’s only verse 29. By contrast, in Luke’s Gospel at this point Mary is just about to hear she is going to have a baby, and Matthew has barely moved past telling us Jesus’ genealogy. In the Gospel of John, John the Baptist sees Jesus for the first time in verse 29.
Mark is like my
six-year-old when she is excited about telling me something that happened at
school that day. I learned to tie my shoes, and then I tripped, and then I had
to tie them again, and then that other girl laughed at me, and then I told her
that wasn’t nice, and then, you’ll never guess what!, she fell, and then I laughed
at her… and then… and then…! Hold up, kid, come up for a breath! But this
is a lot like camp, actually. Kids arrive at camp and we start the ball rolling
and then there are games and singing and dancing and meals and swimming and
Bible reading and how on earth did that week go so fast?! For the counselors,
it is more like “How did summer go that fast?!”
This is how most meaningful things in life go, whether it is a week at camp or raising children, falling in love or starting work at that dream job. Things move at a breakneck speed and, yet, we linger in the most meaningful of moments. You see, the Gospel of Mark does contain within it a multitude of incredibly meaningful moments, even if Mark himself does not stay there. Jesus is on to the next thing and the next thing like Santa Claus delivering presents on Christmas Eve. There is simply not time to stop, but this is not because Mark is a poor writer. Mark is hurtling us toward the cross; in the Gospel of Mark, it is all about the cross. And at Red Willow, this is not a bad summation of our ministry either, because here it is all about the cross; it is all about Jesus meeting us in the midst of a crazy, fast, exciting camp week in the middle of busy lives and breaking into our routine to proclaim a new thing that changes us. At Red Willow, we focus on the essentials, like the fact that because of Christ dying that death, you who were once outsiders have been brought in by the grace of God. It is so simple and powerful. Don’t linger on the next most important thing because you might miss the real bread and butter.
In our Gospel
reading today, Jesus does not allow the demons to speak because they know who
he is. This might seem a strange thing, but it gets even stranger later on when
Jesus starts to tell all the people he is healing to be quiet as well. Surely,
Jesus should want these people to testify to the miracle of healing they have
experienced. Surely, that would be the evidence that he is truly the Son of
God, right? Right? Well, perhaps not. Doctors heal; some magicians give the
appearance of healing; some healing even happens by chance or faith or who
knows? These days we know all too well that healing is not equally apportioned
or fair. Some kids die of cancer; some terrible people live to a ripe old age. In
the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is careful to note that we do not have faith because
of healings, instead we are to put our trust in the big thing—the universal
thing—the cross and the empty tomb. Jesus doesn’t care about anybody testifying
about the healings—it’s all about the cross.
These healings
are the little miracles. Now, for the people being healed they are
life-changing; but they are also temporary. Every healed person eventually dies.
This is why Mark directs us toward the cross. In fact, the earliest versions of
Mark’s Gospels end exactly there. The stone is rolled away, the tomb is empty,
and the disciples run away terrified and say nothing to anybody. End of Gospel.
The very same folks who spend the entire Gospel of Mark not listening to Jesus
and blabbing their mouths about every little healing fail to tell a soul in the
wake of the big miracle. I love the Gospel of Mark because Jesus clearly
understands we-human beings who love to talk a big game about the little things
but who miss the big, honking point.
I say that camp
is a place where we focus on the essentials because we have a couple tremendous
advantages at camp. One is that we break people out of their bubbles. Whether
it is an elementary camper staying away from home for the first time, a high
school camper who gets that rare opportunity to leave their cell phone behind
and all the checking of social media with it, that counselor who does the same,
who has the freedom perhaps for the first time to deepen and widen their faith
in an atmosphere drenched in God’s promises, or even a volunteer or a parent,
who sees it all happening, camp is a place set apart. But camp has another
tremendous advantage: It is not the norm. We break your routine. Therefore,
camp is not just a place but an attitude. We practice our faith at camp by
taking your normal and saying, “Nah, not here.”
This is something
we all need: to break out of our routine and meet Jesus. Jesus’ ministry is
full of sudden, jarring stops, dramatic changes in peoples’ lives and all of it
comes unexpectedly. When people expect Jesus to zig, he zags. When they try to
paint him into a corner, he turns it around on them. Jesus doesn’t fit into the
boxes we make for him, because God is bigger than our expectations.
“Everyone is
searching for you,” Simon says to Jesus in the reading. But here is the
problem: They are looking for him where they expect. They expect Jesus to stay
put, build up a following, be the big fish in the small pond, cultivate power,
assume political authority, and eventually step on to the throne as king. They
expect that because that is what they would do. Instead, Jesus picks up his cross.
Jesus meets
people in their discomfort. This is great news, because that is
precisely when we need him, not in the comfort of what is normal but in our
most desperate need. So, if your world feels like it is on fire, Jesus meets
you there. If things feel overwhelming, Jesus meets you there. When you are
hurting or dying, Jesus meets you there. And, conversely, if things are normal
and fine, then Jesus tends to feel distant, because Jesus is in the business of
healing, not staying. Throughout the Gospel of Mark, he is there in times of
desperate need but never lingering lest we confuse the little healing with what
really matters.
It is still about
the cross, which is exactly the philosophy we bring to camp and exactly the
philosophy I believe Jesus would have us take into our lives. Don’t bother with
the healings; don’t proclaim the Jesus who makes us feel better for a time; rather,
preach the Jesus who dies and rises. Don’t stress all the little things,
because we have a God who takes care of the biggest things. We have a God who
heals but so much more. We are given grace upon grace. And this is where our
true freedom lies, not in the so-called liberty that we are forever
chasing in this “land of the free.” True freedom is the sweeping awareness of
salvation that comes to us apart from what we deserve—grace upon grace—which
frees us to live and love as we choose, caring for others because that is what
people saved by grace do.
At our best, this
is what it means to follow Christ—to shift our focus from the next most
important things—whether that be healings or politics or the Super Bowl or even
our families—shift our sight from the next most important thing to the most
important thing—the cross and the tomb, death and resurrection. And then, to be
a Christian is to reflect that love that God has for us back at our neighbors,
to be little Christs for a world that desperately needs us.
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