"You wear me out, but I love you anyway."

Matthew 14:13-36

One of our three-year-old's favorite books is Olivia by Ian Falconer. Olivia is a picture book about an energetic, imaginative, and precocious little pig who gets into her mother's lipstick, refuses to take a nap, and attempts to recreate a Jackson Pollock painting on the walls of her house (which results in getting a time out from her mother). At the end of an exhausting day, Olivia's mother tucks her into bed saying "You know, you really wear me out. But I love you anyway." (To which Olivia responds "I love you anyway, too.") For some reason, Olivia came to mind when I was reading today's passage.

Jesus has just learned of the death of John the Baptist (according to the gospel of Luke, John was also a relative of Jesus) and leaves by boat, heading to a remote area to be alone, presumably to mourn (although the text does not say). But the crowds learn where he is headed and actually get there before he arrives. Instead of getting time by himself, more than 5,000 people show up. Though he wishes to be alone, Jesus takes compassion on them, heals their sick, and then performs another amazing miracle to make sure they are all well fed.

Then Jesus sends all the people home and sends his disciples back across the lake so that he can go up into the hills by himself to pray. Alone. But a storm comes up and in the middle of the night, Jesus walks out across the waves to calm the storm and presumably rescue his disciples from drowning. Then, arriving on the other side of the lake, Jesus is recognized, and suddenly more people arrive to be healed.

Wherever Jesus goes, he is approached by people who present him with their needs, whether it's healing, or making supper for more than 5,000 people, or taking control of the weather itself to keep a boat from capsizing. And throughout this passage I keep thinking that Jesus just can't seem to get a moment to himself.

I read this section yesterday, a day that I desperately wanted to go off by myself, alone somewhere, having been completely worn out by our two children. I am not just "Dad," I am "Dad the bringer of water in the middle of the night," usually about two minutes after I've finally fallen asleep. I am "Dad the jungle gym" whose job it is to not complain while two kids climb around on my aching back. And even while I was trying to write this blog entry, I stopped to clean up spilled water, to get down some construction paper so the three-year-old could practice cutting with her new pair of scissors, to make dinner for them, to change a diaper, to intervene in some sibling rivalry, to read "just one more book" (about a dozen more times), and several other minor crises. The interruptions, it seems, are a constant for those of us with young children. But we love them anyway.

We also have the needs of other family members to consider, and we have needs in the workplace. No wonder when organizations ask for volunteers we feel like we've already reached the limit.

But then I'm reminded of how Jesus responded to the needy who followed him everywhere. Verse 14 tells us that even though he was hoping to go off by himself somewhere, he had compassion on the people. This is something I must remember. When I selfishly place my own needs above the needs of others, when I fail to respond to others' needs with compassion, I am not being Christ-like.

I wonder if Jesus ever gets worn out by all of us with our endless needs. I try to tell myself that he was divine, and therefore he could probably handle a little more stress. But Jesus was also human and must have experienced the physical exhaustion that surely accompanied the demands placed on him by the crowds. But he loved them anyway.

Actually, there probably shouldn't be any "but" or "anyway" in that statement. We continually go to Jesus with our needs, and he loves us. Period.

Drew Clausen