A Different Kind of Quiet

My son Ian has always been fond of perching in high places. As a child with no fear of heights, he was often found standing on the crest of the roof, hanging atop the backyard tree, shimmying up the basketball pole, or scaling a rock wall somewhere. “What can you see from up there?” I’d ask. He’d point and describe something off in the distance. He loved it. He still does.

I think Jesus was fond of high places, too. At times we find Him climbing mountains to be alone and pray. Sometimes, He intentionally removed Himself from the crush of the crowd, getting up before sunrise, to be alone and talk with the Father. Higher views are where perspective is found, where a different kind of quiet is experienced. The soul needs it for honest prayer, at least it seems Jesus did.

Ian and friends, sitting on a cliff's edge in Norway

When news of the death of John the Baptist reached His ears, the Bible says that Jesus “...withdrew privately by boat to a solitary place.” (Matt. 14:14) The loss of His cousin must have transported Him forward to a day coming soon for Him, too. I wonder how the Father stood with his Son; how did He encourage Him in that moment? Did God reiterate, “Look at My sheep without a shepherd,” or did He say something like, “Okay, Son, let’s do the multiplication thing.”

A large crowd had gathered where the boat landed and, though weary, compassion filled Jesus’ heart and rather than pull away, He healed all who were sick. Compassion is the seedbed of the miraculous in Jesus’ ministry. Since it was late in the day, and everyone was hungry, He found a child with loaves and fish, blessed them, and multiplied the food and fed a multitude, with baskets left over. This local Rabbi and Healer had just become more famous, now providing bread from heaven like Moses in the wilderness. The crowds would never leave.

Perhaps longing to metabolize the loss of John with His Father, Jesus does something peculiar. He instructs His disciples to take the boat and head to the other side of the sea of Galilee to the region of the Gadarenes. “I’ll meet you there later,” He says. Jesus was always doing the unexpected and once the disciples prepared to shove off, He turned, dismissing the crowds to their homes, and immediately climbed a nearby mountain to pray. With the evening light waning, He was alone, and looking off in the distance, He saw the disciples straining at the oar against the building wind and waves.

What was His experience of prayer like that night? Did He and the Father speak about the young disciples in the boat? I wonder if the Father pointed to the distant shore where a lost sheep lay bound, naked and alone. Did he say, “Show the brothers what faith looks like,” or “Show them the types of people I’m looking for.” Did He say, “Are you ready to silence the wind and waves and walk on the water?” Jesus kept up the praying until the early part of the morning. I wonder what that conversation was like.

Obviously, Jesus was going to demonstrate His God-given authority over nature and strengthen the faith of the disciples. I’m sure that’s all true, but was there something more? He initiated their journey in such an unusual way. Launching at night, towards a land where any self-respecting Jewish person wouldn’t be caught dead, while stating that, “I’ll come to you later.” They were simply to trust and obey.

Though pressure leans upon you, His compassion will win the day
 

I think, from that mountain top, the Father had more in mind, and therefore Jesus did, too. After Jesus came walking on the water, blowing the circuits of the disciples, inviting Peter out on the water, after He calmed the winds and the waves with a word. All incredible lessons and stories in themselves. They then arrive at the place where a man hopelessly possessed by demons was living among the tombs. He was tormented, rejected, and scorned. It was for his freedom that they had come, a rescue plan known only to Jesus and His Father. The dramatic deliverance and salvation flowed again from compassion and the Son of God showed the lengths that His Father would travel to seek and save the lost. 

Atop the mountain, in a solitary place, Jesus looked out where the Father was looking and saw the one. He modeled the way of the Father, leaving the 99 and going after the one, and in so doing He never lost any who were His own. He is ever faithful and full of the miracles of compassion.

Are you like I am these days, needing to get to a higher place? Do you have people with needs pressing in? How about the wind and waves threatening to sink your best efforts? Are the enemy’s entanglements seeking to steal, kill and destroy?

Perhaps it’s time to climb a mountain alone and look to see what the Father sees. Though pressure leans upon you, His compassion will win the day, for He writes good stories from better vantage points, you can count on it. What do you see from up there?