The Yoke’s On Us

Romans 7: 15-25a; Matthew 11: 16-19; 25-30

FPC; 7-6-08

          Here’s a little known fact.  There was a period during my younger years when I was a weight lifter.  All the necessary equipment resided in the basement of my parents’ home in Abingdon, Virginia.  I remember coming home during a break from the routines of Seminary-the paper writing, lectures and trial sermons-and descending the creaky stairway that led to that dark remote place; not certain whether or not I was cut out to be a weight lifter, I haltingly approached the weights.  I bent my knees, stooped and raised the barbell first to a level that paralleled my shoulders.  Then, with a grunt and powerful surge of my legs and arms, I raised the weights above my head, held them there for a count of two and then, while exhaling, I lowered them to the floor in front of me.   

          I call that the weight lifting period of my life.  It lasted all of two days!  I had the option of carrying that burden or not.  I chose to drop that weight and have never lifted it again.      

          Some weights and burdens we choose to carry (or not). Others thrust themselves upon us.  We are conscripted to carry them.  

          For example, infants and toddlers, when they realize their Moms or Dads have left their presence, experience separation anxiety, a penetrating and weighty distress.  Older Adults and even some who are middle aged ask heavy questions born of anxiety:  Will aging rob me of independence?  Will I one day be a ‘burden’ to my children? 

          Even celebrative moments, such as the ones experienced two days ago on July 4^th, have no immunity from some of the perplexing and weighty issues of our time.  While we oohed and aahed over the fireworks exploding here, innocent children were seeking cover as a bomb exploded in Belarus; while we were sipping from our twelve ounce glasses of lemonade, dry mouths of some third world children were panting for even a drop of water.  While there was laughter and an appropriate thanksgiving for the freedom Americans enjoy, some were feigning celebration as they chafed in weighty shackles of guilt, sadness or fear.  

          The burdens of life can be heavy!

          I can almost picture the Apostle Paul sitting at his table, writing the words I read earlier.  In my mind’s eyes I see his shoulders drooping and a look of weariness etched upon his face.   “I do not understand my actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”  Sin and its power to destroy has become a weighty burden upon Paul’s life.  He has become spiritually enslaved to sin and its morbid power. He asks, “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” 

          Paul receives what Jesus promises in these words:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” 

          A theologian once said: “nowhere is God’s supreme greatness so clearly seen than in the gentleness with which he approaches us in Jesus.  Only the Almighty could come casting aside all trappings of royalty to issue this humble invitation.  He asks us to come to him when he himself has already come all the way to where we are.  And he continues to arrive on the threshold of our hearts in every stage and situation of life.  Jesus invites us to look up for a moment from the burdens of the day and see him waiting for us with open arms.”[1] 

          Jesus does not promise the removal of life’s burdens; rather he promises to journey with us and help us shoulder to burdens.  Jesus does not promise rescue from life’s weighty anxieties so much as rest and peace as we carry the weights upon our shoulders.   

          The image of yoke, I suspect, was easy for Jesus to use.  He, after all, spent a lot of time in the carpenter’s shop and probably made dozens of them.  The yoke was a cross-barred, u-shaped instrument that brought two or more oxen together and yoked them into a team.  The yoke made it possible for them to work in tandem, each sharing the load of the other. 
          It was 1863.  The Civil War was raging and the end was no where in sight.   One day, Abraham Lincoln and his trusted aide, Noah Brooks, were out for a ride.  Brooks, noticing the President’s obvious physical fatigue, suggested that Mr. Lincoln should take a rest when he returned to the White House.

“A rest”, Lincoln replied, “I don’t know about a rest.  It’s good for the body, but the tired part of me is inside and out of reach.”[2] 

          In his great invitation, Jesus promises rest.  I suspect, however, that the rest he offers is not so much physical as emotional and spiritual.  It’s the emotional and spiritual weariness that resides so deeply that it sometimes seems out of reach and beyond relief. 

          In one of his books, Gerrit Scott Dawson writes of a man “who feels the pressure to perform at work day after day and feels just a measure short all the time.  He worked his way from the bottom to the middle.  He has come to realize that he probably won’t go much higher.  He can reconcile himself to that reality, but he is terrified of where he might fall.  In a heartbeat, he could be replaced with someone younger, quicker, and cheaper.  And he knows his life is not his own.  The mortgage on the house has a long way to go.  He didn’t mean to get further into debt, but the remodeling had to be done and now the kids seem to need more and more all the time.  This man can’t stop; he can’t get sick; he must stay at it. … And this man is so tired.”[3]

          Jesus says to the man, as he says to all of us who experience mental and emotional strain: “Come to me, you who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.”  “Take my yoke upon you, for it is easy, well-fitting.”

          But sometimes the yoke doesn’t feel so easy or well fitted.  We profess readily that God loves us unconditionally.  Yet, we live sometimes as if he doesn’t.  We live sometimes according to the mistaken notion that “If we go to church…If we pray like a saint….If we are good and all of our acts, thoughts and words are good, then God will love us.”  The burden that we place upon ourselves when we buy into that kind of works righteousness theology is heavy and spiritually lethal.  It crushes our faith and is packed with the dangerous possibility of making us feel unloved by God.[4]    

So, in his gracious invitation Jesus reminds us that his yoke is easy, not hard and that his love is unconditional not conditional.

          During the week, I am in and out of this room a lot, for a variety of reasons.  Occasionally, I will sit in one of these pews and find rest for my body.   On a really good day, I am able to be still, not only physically, but also spiritually.  When the gift of that moment is given, I know that God is God.  Suddenly, sometimes unexpectedly, I find rest for my soul, not because of who I am or anything I have done but because of who God is and because of what God is constantly doing for us through Christ.      

          I began this sermon with a little known fact.  Now let me end with what I hope is a well known fact, truth that we will embrace and claim for our lives.  It is this:    

God has arrived on the threshold of our hearts as Jesus invites us to look up for a moment from the burdens of the day and see him waiting for us with open arms, giving rest to our souls.  This is the word of the Lord!  Thanks be to God!

Amen.