Bishop Robert H. Spain, retired from his office as Bishop of the Louisville Episcopal Area and now is chaplain with the United Methodist Publishing House in Nashville. He has been a teacher and speaker for clergy workshops and continuing education events. He was known to quote the baseball manager Casey Stengel who supposedly said “there are two kinds of baseball managers: those who have been fired and those who will be fired.” Bishop Spain then went on to address the clergy (and sometimes laity) in his care and say that there are two kinds of Christians: those who have lost their passion for the Lord and those who will. “We all,” the Bishop would pronounce, “suffer some periods of spiritual dryness.”
Surely not, we think. We can sustain this, can’t we? It isn’t that hard. Just love God with all your heart and soul and mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. It can’t be that hard, surely. Just believe in the Lord Jesus and you shall be saved. A piece of cake. I mean even when we understand that to believe is not to hold intellectual assent to a concept somewhat detached from where we live and breathe, but that the belief that saves us is investing our whole self in living the life that Jesus invites us to live - even then, it can’t be that hard, can it? Just, as James reminded us just last week, let the Word become implanted in us because it has the power to save us. A walk in the park, wouldn’t you say? Except that the ground in which that Word is planted is our souls which have a tendency to be overgrown with busyness, and responsibilities, and plans and strategies, not to mention will swings of mood and intent and then it is all overseen by a will that is shaking in its boots on a regular basis.
Two kinds of Christians: those who have lost their passion for the Lord, and those who will. Sometimes the walk of faith is a autumnal stroll through the beauty of the leaves and the crispness of the air, it just makes us glad to be alive. Sometimes it is a slog through a soaking drizzle that chills to the bone and seems an uphill incline that wears on muscles we hadn’t stretched enough before we began. Sometimes carrying the gifts and responsibilities is a joy that fills our heart, sometimes it is a burden we dread with every passing moment. Sometimes we feel surrounded by a Presence that lifts us with every step of our journey, sometimes it is an aloneness that consumes us until we feel hollow inside, empty, drained. Sometimes we know our redeemer lives, other times death seems to be final word. Sometimes ... Two kinds of Christians. Have lost, will lose. Which are you?
Matthew 11:28-30 "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 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. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
Just three verses that try to combat the two kinds of Christians scenario. All you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens. What surprises me is how often we won’t admit our weariness, we won’t confess to our burdens. Some of it is because we know too much. We know someone who has it worse. We know someone who is struggling more than we are struggling, dealing with more life and death issues, facing insurmountable odds, carrying monumental burdens. So, we feel that there is something wrong with us if we struggle with something that seems relatively simpler, or easier than what we see in others. We are embarrassed that we feel like the minor thing, the self-doubts, the rejection, the emptiness is worth calling suffering when there are those around us dying, literally dying from disease or war or terrorism or violence of various kinds. We don’t even think we are able to claim weariness, because we haven’t suffered like others have suffered. We aren’t ready to claim we carry a burden when others seem weighed down by unimaginable suffering.
And yet, our pain is our pain. Our burdens are real, our suffering is real. And we are weary. It might not be the struggle to survive, like it is for some in this world. But it is real and it is our hurt, denial won’t make it any better, won’t wash away the tiredness, won’t lighten the burden. We, like others - whose circumstances might be worse - need to admit we need a savior.
That’s what’s behind this passage. An admission, that the burdens we carry can’t be carried alone. That the weariness that seeps into our bones won’t go away because we try a little harder or have another cup of coffee. We can’t do this, we can’t save ourselves, despite what our culture tells us. We need a savior, one who will save us even from ourselves.
If you go back in the chapter and read what leads Jesus to make this invitation, you’ll see that the burden he refers to is the burden of the law. The burden of pharisee-ism. The burden of a religion that has lost its heart and continues to strain under the detail of rules and traditions. Jesus wants to set us free from that. From heartless religion. To bring us into a living, sustain, strengthening faith.
He wants to give us rest. But not rest as in taking a nap. (Though Maddie home from college would testify that a god nap can be a wonderful thing.) This is the kind of rest that comes from being where you belong. It comes from fitting in, being in the right place, doing what you were created to do, fulfilling the dreams you didn’t even know you had. This rest is an active rest, a moving rest, a rest because you are following the one who knows you better than you know yourself. Not a lethargic, drowsy, let the world go away kind of rest. But a building, serving, peacemaking rest. Because your heart is settled, your identity is known to you and to those around you, you are at rest because you are. In God you are. In relationship you are. Internally, in your own heart and soul you are.
No, that wasn’t Yoda talking backwards. That was an affirmation of identity. You are. But wait, you say, this rest how do we get it, what do we do? Take the yoke.
Slow down there, Sparky. Take a yoke? I know we aren’t in the same agricultural environment as the folks in Jesus’ day, but we know what a yoke is. It is work, back-breaking, sweat-producing, dawn to dusk kind of work. That doesn’t sound like rest. It sounds like the opposite of rest. Yeah, ok, Jesus is nice about it, with that I am gentle and humble of heart. Which means, I guess, he won’t use the whip on us. He won’t use the goad. He’ll be nice and friendly while he straps us in to this instrument of hard labor.
My yoke is easy. Compared to what? Easy means, in this context, that it is made for us. There were two kinds of yokes available in those days. There was the off the rack yoke that you’d pick up a Wal-mart or the first century middle Eastern equivalent. It was an uneasy yoke, it would sometimes rub in the wrong places, it wounded the animal even as it enabled them to work. It chafed, it bruised, it was like walking miles in shoes that don’t fit. The skin would be rubbed raw by a yoke that was uneasy.
An easy yoke, by contrast, as custom made. It was made for a specific animal with specific measurement. It fit right. It enabled the beast to do the job it was called to do, and even more by enhancing the natural strength. My yoke is easy, Jesus says, meaning it fits us. It is the work we were made to do. It was the job of service that our heart desires. The burden is light, because it doesn’t feel like a burden. When we labor out of love it doesn’t feel like labor. When we serve with joy it doesn’t feel like service, it feels like giving and receiving a gift. We are doing what we were created to do. We are fulfilling our heart’s desire, even when we didn’t know anything about it.
We are weary, Jesus says, because we are doing the wrong things. Or working with wrong assumptions. Or trying to justify or identify or to prove ourselves. When our self is already proved by his love. We can rest, secure in that love. Secure in our identity as a child of God. We can find rest, even as we become more active than we have ever been. More productive than we thought we could be. Because we are yoked to Christ, and want nothing more than to serve Him in love. Rest in that. Rest in Him. Rest. A third kind of Christian, one who is at rest in Christ.
Shalom,
Derek
No comments:
Post a Comment