A Day in the Life

Mark 1:29-39

There are some days when I feel especially grateful to the hundreds and thousands of people who contributed to the composition and preservation of the Scriptures. Today, as we read this passage from Mark, is one of those days. A lot of people over two thousand years and many continents made it possible for us peer through the mists of time to witness a day in the life of Jesus. And that is what we have today, my friends- a day in the life of God Incarnate. If Jesus was a vlogger, or the star of a reality TV show, there would be a soundtrack and a confessional and probably some shots of the meals he ate and the clothes he wore. Unfortunately, St Mark was not particularly interested in these details, so we must settle for his version of the story.

Jesus’s Sabbath day begins in the synagogue, where last week we heard he preached and taught and released a man from the demon that had plagued him for many years. Sabbath prayers and study completed, Jesus heads to his friend’s home. Like many of us may have fond memories of a full table for Sunday night dinner, the meal that follows the sunset of Sabbath is an intimate one, a time to be spent with one’s family. Jesus leaves the public sphere of the synagogue and enters the private sphere of the family home, where multiple generations and several houseguests are gathered. Simon’s mother-in-law is sick, but Jesus resurrects her. This is the word that is used, Jesus took her by the hand and lifted her, raised her, up. She is risen.

How does this unnamed woman respond to being lifted up by Jesus? She becomes a deacon. Instantly, as if her fever were no more than a passing thought, this mother begins to serve, to diacon. It is the same kind of service that Jesus commands his disciples to engage in, the kind of servant he is to each of them. The raised woman is not simply showing the hospitality her houseguests might expect- she is ministering to them as Jesus does. In this day in the life of Jesus, he raises up a woman to ministry.

The story skips forward a bit. The dinner has been served and eaten, perhaps Simon is in the kitchen washing the dishes and catching up with his wife and her mother. And suddenly the whole town is at the door, bearing on shoulders and pallets and leading by the hand those in the community who are sick or tormented by demons. Jesus heals many of them, and kicks many a demon to the curb. Just another day in the life of the Son of God.

This marathon of healing and freeing of the sick and the suffering goes well into the night, a montage of tears of pain becoming tears of joy, crutches falling to the ground as their former owners dance away through the streets, loved ones embracing one another as eyes begin to clear. As the crowds begin to disperse into the darkness of the wee hours, Jesus heads out for some alone time. Jesus settles down in a deserted place, remote enough that his friends will have to hunt to find him. After an exhausting 24 hours of preaching, teaching, healing, and performing exorcisms, even the Son of God wants some peace and quiet. Jesus spends this time in prayer, God from God reconnecting with the eternal relationship of the Trinity. This part is so striking to me because I will admit that as a professional prayer, there are many more nights than I’d like to admit when I fall asleep before remembering to say goodnight to God. But Jesus reminds us, reminds me, that there is no rest like that which we can find in prayer.

The crowds are gathering at the doorstep again, all those who were not able to receive healing yesterday and more who have heard the rumors and come from the outskirts and the neighboring towns. The disciples can’t yet offer them what they seek, and they also can’t offer up Jesus, nor do they want to admit that they may have lost track of him. After searching high and low, Jesus’s friends finally find him in the middle of nowhere. I imagine they are more than a bit peeved, like a parent who begins to panic with each moment their child is out of sight, only to find them very comfortably and obliviously reading in a corner. Don’t ask my mom if that’s a true story.

When he hears the news of the crowds, Jesus responds to his breathless disciples with a confounding change of subject. “Let’s go to the neighboring towns so I can preach there too.” What?! Jesus, there is a line around the block of people waiting for a glimpse of you. I imagine Simon and Andrew would be especially annoyed and confused, since Jesus is telling them its already time to leave their hometown and their family behind again. But this is a day in the life of the Messiah, and he has work to do. So off they go.

We are not all preachers, we are not all teachers, we are not all healers, and unless y’all are keeping something from me there aren’t any exorcists in this parish family. But still, our lives, our days, are more like a day in the life of Jesus than we might think. Our days begin and end in the home. On special days we come together with loved ones, either in homes or at church or other sacred spaces. When our community needs something, we provide what we can, even when it feels like the entire town is lined up at the door. When we can, when we remember, we make time for God. We spend a little time in quiet and in prayer, even if its just a few deep breaths and a table grace. We rest, we recover from the day’s labors. And then we go out and do it all again in the morning, even when it feels like yesterday’s demands were not all met, the to do list not entirely complete. We carry on, even when it feels like everyone is looking for us, because there is still work to do.

You see, these snapshots, this 24 hour vignette of Jesus’s life and ministry, is more than a filler episode between Christmas and Easter. Jesus is more than a character in the pages of a book. God became human, and that means the most human parts of our lives are part of God’s life too. God knows what it feels like to care for and worry about a sick relative, what it feels like to serve and to need help. God knows what it feels like to get up and go to work or to church, even when it feels like the whole world is against you. God knows what it feels like to be so soul tired, so bone weary, so overwhelmed and overstimulated by the needs of others that the only recourse is to go off somewhere quiet, close the door, and block out the world for a few minutes. God has had a private life and a very public job, a family that didn’t always get it and critics who wouldn’t give him an inch. God knows what it’s like to worry about the children, what it’s like to wish a loved one would make different choices or finally find their way. There is no part of our lives that God is not involved in, no separation between what we do together on Sunday morning and how we spend our Saturday nights or our Monday afternoons. If each of us were to record a day in our life, even the most mundane or simple or chaotic of days, every second of it would matter to God. Every second of it would mean something to Jesus, because he’s been there too. And because of that, every second of our lives is sacred, every step we take on holy ground. Pay attention to your next 24 hours. Take pictures, take notes. Look for the holy, listen for the sacred in your own story. Tell your story to someone else and listen to theirs. Take some quiet time with God, and get some rest. And then wake up and do it again.