Oh, that I had in the desert
a lodging place for travelers,
so that I might leave my people
and go away from them.
—Jeremiah 9:2
Sometimes I think Jeremiah had it exactly right. He wanted a cabin in the
woods where he could get away from it all. He was fed up with folks; he’d
had it. He wanted out—way out—away from them all.
I get the feeling myself from time to time—the yen to get a job in a lighthouse
or drop out and build a log cabin with my own hands way up in the
mountains and let the world go to pieces. Deep down I just want to be left
alone.
It’s a pervasive fantasy. William Yeats felt the urge:
I will arise now and go to Innisfree . . .
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
King David did too: “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove!” he cried.
I would fly away and be at rest—
I would flee far away
and stay in the desert;
I would hurry to my place of shelter,
far from the tempest and storm (Psalm 55:6–8).
I think everybody must get that inclination now and then. Genesis says
that it’s not good to be alone, but honestly sometimes being alone sounds like
the best thing in the world.
I get tired of the hassles, the responsibilities, the everlasting demands, the
wall-to-wall people. There is no end of things to be done for others. I get
weary of doing things for them and hearing about their worries and woes.
It’s then that I begin to dream about dropping out and going away.
But it won’t do. Final escape is a fantasy, and fantasy has no place in our
lives. We’re to be girded about with reality (Ephesians 6:14).
We can’t drop out. There’s more at stake than our own solace.
That’s why the word came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Proclaim all these
words in the towns of Judah and in the streets of Jerusalem. ‘Listen to the terms of this covenant and follow them’ ” (Jeremiah 11:6, emphasis added).
Jeremiah couldn’t stay in the high country; he had to go back to town.
There were things to be done, the word to be proclaimed, people to be helped
on to God.
Raphael’s altarpiece in the Vatican depicts Jesus on the Mountain of
Transfiguration with the three disciples, James, Peter, and John. All is light
and glory. At the foot of the mountain all is gloom and doom. The disciples
want to remain on the mountaintop, but Jesus won’t let them stay. They have
to come down with Him and live in the world of darkness and demons, down
where the redemptive rubber meets the road.
It’s necessary to go to the mountains and get away now and then; William
Blake said,
Great things are done when men and mountains meet;
This is not done by jostling in the street.
We should by all means find some time to be alone and get away from the
crowds, if only for a few hours each week. We need a quiet place in which to
rest and in which God can recreate our love for Him and refresh our souls.
The mountain renews us as it renewed our Lord. He often went into the
mountains so there would be nothing between Him and God (see Luke
6:12).
Though solitude is a good place to visit, it’s no place to stay. God says to
us what he said to Jeremiah, “Proclaim all these words in the towns . . . and
in the streets.”
Taken from Seeing God, © 2006 by David Roper. Used by permission of Discovery House Publishers, Box 3566, Grand Rapids MI 4950l. All rights reserved.
What you say, Pastor, is so very true. I too have sometimes felt like running away from it all. Your words “no end of things to be done for others” really defines my life. However, Galatians 6:9 reminds of God’s faithfulness and gives me the strength to always go forward with my heart, because I know God has a purpose for my life.