Finding Center

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But now even more the report about him went abroad, and great crowds

gathered to hear him and to be healed of their infirmities. But he would

withdraw to desolate places and pray. 

—Luke 5:15-16

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It seems only a short time ago—though it was actually 15 years—I was a brand-new father. My wife had returned to work, and I had no idea what I was doing. Though my son was a relatively quiet baby, I may have muttered the sentiment, “these things should come with instruction manuals,” more than a few times in those early days.

For the most part, things went well. About once or twice a day, though, my son would become inconsolable. No matter what I did, he could not fall asleep or find the calm that normally defined most of his infancy. Nothing I did seemed to help. My frustration grew, which didn’t help him at all. There were many tears—some were even his.

Just before writing the verses above, Luke had recorded the healing of a leper. Jesus’s growing reputation was drawing a crowd, and that crowd wanted His help no matter how much He needed just a few moments of rest. Our Lord withdrew to solitude to spend time with His Father.

What may seem like a short line of narration from Luke carries a lesson for us all—especially for that frustrated father and son duo 15 years ago. Maybe even occasionally now that he’s a teenager. (Pray for me.)

See, I soon learned that what my son needed wasn’t another bottle, or a diaper change, or even to be swaddled a little more snugly. What he really needed was help finding—or re-finding—his center. He hadn’t yet learned how to relax his overstimulated mind and simply take a breath.

Jesus knew when to withdraw from the masses—when to return in prayer to the Father, His center, if you will. Throughout His ministry, Jesus withdrew to pray numerous times. We see it in the Garden of Gethsemane just before His arrest. We see Him withdraw again after feeding the five thousand in John’s record.

For my son, finding center came in the form of my singing to him. Now, I’m not a singer, so we started with the playlist on my phone. Admittedly not a traditional choice—being a bit of a metalhead at the time. And yet, it worked, and may explain some of his musical inclinations today. Eventually, though, we settled on Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul, and Mary.

It took a bit, but the more I sang that song to him, the more quickly he would settle. The tears would abate, and the restlessness would give way to calm, and finally to sleep. By having something he trusted—something that represented peace and calm—my son was able to re-focus and return to his regular quiet-baby self.

I cannot tell you how many times I have sung Puff the Magic Dragon in his life, but the ability to teach him how to find center as a baby was a Godsend for that man learning to be a father. I don’t think I’ve listened to or sung Puff in quite a while now, but the memory has served me well in the years since.

Those lessons also made it much easier when our daughter—not a quiet baby at all—came along a few years later. Her song, if you were wondering, was Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.

Prayer:

Father, give us the wisdom, in the midst of the noise and chaos of everyday life, to return in prayer to You. To find our center in Your grace and in Your peace. Amen.

A Christian, father, husband, and aviator, I enjoy teaching about the Bible, its history, theology, and application to the life of a believer. I hold a graduate degree in theology, and write frequent Bible studies and other messages on Substack on my page Finding Faith.