2/7/21 “Rest Area Ahead” by Nancy E. Petty

Isaiah 40:28-31; Mark 1:29-39

Before I became a parent I prided myself in being able to drive from Raleigh to Shelby without stopping. In doing so, I could make that trip that would take others about three and a half hours in about three hours. Once I became a parent the 210 mile trip that would take others three and a half hours all of the sudden took my car load four and a half hours. What had been a non-stop trip became a multi-stop adventure. Why? Mom, I need to go to the bathroom. Mom, I need a snack. Mom, I’m tired of being in the car. Life with kids required me to be vigilant in watching for the road signs that read: “Rest Area Ahead.” It only took about two trips between Raleigh and Shelby before I didn’t need the “Rest Area Ahead” signs. I had memorized the mile markers where all rest areas were located. You just don’t have a lot of time when the call comes from the backseat, “Mom, I’ve gotta go.” And do you have any idea how long kids can take at rest stop? A long time and there is a lot of waiting.

Those parenting moments were a challenge for me. By nature, I’m not a slow-down, rest area kind of person. Never have been. The sooner I can get there, the faster I can go, the harder I can work, the more I can put on my plate way of life seems to be the way that energizes me. Waiting, resting, stopping is counter to my nature. That is why when I read Isaiah 40 I cringe a bit. “Youths will faint and grow weary, the young will fall exhausted but those who wait upon the Lord, will renew their strength…they shall run and not be weary…they shall walk and not faith.”

There is no arguing that Isaiah 40 offers some of the most beautiful poetry in all of scripture. The closing metaphor of rising up with wings like eagles is the poetic pinnacle of the passage, and harkens back to an earlier time of the Exodus when God declared: “You have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself.” It is, indeed, a comforting passage, especially to those who are weary and tired, and especially to those who are feeling old and weary and tired. To hear that even the youth will grow tired and weary and the young people will fall exhausted gives the older tired and weary some comfort. The waiting, the need to stop at the rest area, gets validated. They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

But what of this idea of waiting upon the Lord? What does it really mean? Does it mean we stop what we are doing, pull off at the rest area, and just wait for God to tell us our next move or when it is time to get back on the road? Do we wait to grow those eagles’ wings so then we can rise up and run? 

I want to suggest that our gospel text from Mark helps us understand the kind of “waiting upon the Lord” that Isaiah speaks of. Let me recap what’s going on in our gospel text and possibly build a bridge between these two texts. Jesus and his disciples had been together in the synagogue doing what they do in the synagogue. They leave the synagogue and go to Simon and Andrew’s house with James and John where Simon’s mother-in-law was in the bed sick. They tell Jesus about her, how sick she is, and Jesus goes to her, takes her by the hand and lifts her up. We are now told, and I quote, “Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.”

Now, it would seem wrong to just keep going with the story and not pull off the road here to address this one sentence in the text. For 50% of those listening, you wouldn’t hear anything else said if I didn’t stop here, and I’m right there with you. You are thinking, as I am, so we heal the woman so that she can serve the men. That’s the way that part of the story comes off. And even if it’s not exactly what it looks like, and I’m not saying it’s not, the fact that texts like this have been used as keep women subservient to men is a problem—a big problem. The patriarchy has zeroed in on texts like this one to keep women oppressed and marginalized. It is important when we come across statements like this in our text to stop and name the abuse women have endured and suffered because of Christianity’s unwillingness to address how our text often oppresses women and anyone else who is not a cis-gender man. And so we name it, acknowledge it and condemn it.

The story continues. That evening, at sundown, the disciples brought to Jesus all kinds of people who were sick—physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. We are told that the whole city was gathered around the door. And that evening Jesus spent the night healing the sick. In the morning before daybreak we read that Jesus gets up and goes out to a deserted place, and there he prays. He takes the exit to the rest area. He gets off the fast-paced highway to take care of his needs: to pray, to be with God, to connect with himself.

When he doesn’t show up on time, his friends go looking for him. They deploy the search team and when they find him they let him know that everybody was looking for him. His response: Let us go on to the next town and keep doing the work we’ve come to do—to heal the sick, to release the captives, to give sight to the blind, to proclaim the good news to the poor.

To wait upon the Lord, to renew our strength, to run and not be weary, to walk and not faith, to rise up with eagles’ wings is to be willing to see and heed the signs that say “rest area ahead.” To watch and listen for the internal signals that we need to pull off the busy highway and take care of spiritual needs. To pray, to connect with God and ourselves, to let our spirit rest, to take a deep breath, to renew our strength. To wait upon the Lord doesn’t mean we stop the work we’ve been called to do: to heal the sick, to release the captives, to give sight to the blind, to proclaim the good news to the poor. There is no idle waiting or empty waiting. The waiting upon Lord is that time at the rest area where we tend to our relationship, our connection to the One who calls us to rise up with eagles’ wings and to renew our strength to keep proclaiming the good news to a world desperately needing some good news.

As hard as it is for me to admit, the rest area—the deserted place—is not optional. I used to think it was. Those of you who knew me as a young minister might remember the woman who tried to do it all. But life has been a demanding teacher. It is not an option to not stop along the way. Forget the pride, forget the getting there sooner and faster. The rest area is essential. Maybe for you, it is hard to admit that going on to the next town—to run and not be weary—is not optional. It is not an option to just stay at the rest area, to avoid the traffic and hassle on the road. The rest area and the moving on down the road are both required. In the doing there is waiting. And in the waiting there is doing. A life of faith is long road trip. The rest areas are a necessity. And so is being on the road that takes us to the next town that moves us closer and closer to our destination: the destination of the wolf living with the lamb, of justice rolling down like water, of racial and economic justice, of a world where no one is hungry, and all are safe from war and violence.

This table is a rest area. It is a place where we stop to care for ourselves—to remind us that we are loved, to be renewed and refreshed and refilled.

And this table is the road that takes us to the next town—the next place—where we are being called to go back out into the world to share the good news to the poor and the lonely and the hurting and all who suffer from the violence of systems that oppress and marginalize.

At this table we receive; and from this table we give to others.