July 3, 2005: Unburdening Yourself

+THE FOURTEENTH SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME


Somebody sent me an email story the other day that made an interesting point. It started out by asking: how much do you think that a glass of water weighs? The story went on to say that the exact number in ounces really doesn’t matter. What counts is how heavy the glass of water is. You may be wondering, what’s the difference? Well, think about this. If you were to hold the glass for one minute, it’s no big deal. If you hold it for an hour, your arm will probably be aching. If you have to hold it for an entire day, you’re going to need an ambulance. The point is, the weight is not any different, but the longer you hold up the glass, the heavier the burden becomes.

I’m sure we all know that the same kind of rule applies in the spiritual and emotional world. Worries and anxieties get bigger the longer we hold on to them. Problems with other people—or with God, for that matter—may seem beyond fixing if we don’t take steps to work things out. Fears can become paralyzing if we run away and don’t dare to confront them.

I find it enormously comforting that this is one aspect of life that Jesus talked about specifically. In fact, I think it’s my favorite bible text of all:

Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.

Christ wants to teach us how to become unburdened from all these terrible weights that press on us and hold us down.

There are actually a couple of different ways that Jesus helps us accomplish this unburdening.

The first way is a kind of weight- or resistance-training. If you wanted to build up your arms, for example, you might do that by lifting weights. You’d start with light weights and just a few lifts… and over time, you’d add more and more weight, and do more and more reps. Remember that Charles Atlas started out as the 98-pound weakling who got sand kicked in his face at the beach… before he became the muscleman that inspired generations of kids, including Arnold Schwartzenegger.

Back in the 1800s, before there were such things as professional trainers, there was a young Scotsman who dreamed of being a discus thrower. He decided that he would develop his skills on his own. He even made his own discus based on a description he read in a book.

What this lad didn’t know was that the discus used in competitions was made of wood with an outer rim of iron. He thought it was solid iron—so that’s how he made his. His version weighed three or four times more than a regulation discus.

So he marked off the distance in a field of the current record, and he pushed himself and trained every day to try to match it. For almost a year, he practiced relentlessly—and he got to be very good… so good, in fact, that he could consistently match the record distance, and often beat it. He was ready.

The Scotsman traveled down to England for his first competition. When he arrived at the games, he was handed the official wooden discus—which he promptly threw like it was as light as a saucer. He easily set a new record: a distance so far beyond his competitors that no one could touch him. For many years he remained the uncontested champion.

Consider the lesson here. So that’s how you do it. You train under a great burden!

Now think about the spiritual parallel. The pressures and stresses and difficulties of life become the weights that make us stronger… so we can smash them!

But the difference between the discus throwing Scotsman and us is that we do have a professional trainer. That’s Jesus Christ. Listen to what the Lord goes on to promise us:

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.

When two oxen are yoked together, they become a team and share the weight. Each only has to pull half. And the same way, when we yoke ourselves to Christ, he pulls a share of the weight—and I promise you, it’s more than half!

And this leads to the second way of how we are able to get unburdened… or maybe we should say, the way that we can yoke ourselves to Christ so he’ll lift the bulk of our burden.

I’m afraid it’s ridiculously easy… so easy, in fact, that you might scoff at it and not even try it. Are you ready? Here it is: you just ask. “Lord, take my burden.”

You simply give your fears, worries, problems, and so on to Christ. Drop them at his feet… and walk away. “Lord, I’m sick and tired about worrying about this problem. I’m just going to leave it with you. Either you worry about it for me, or take it away… but I don’t want it any more. Thanks a lot. Bye-bye.”

If you’re skeptical, try it with something small. Forget that God scratched out the Grand Canyon with the tip of his pinkie. It’s OK. Once you see that a little emotional or spiritual burden can be lifted, hopefully you’ll try it out on something bigger.

And make a mental note of Matthew, chapter 11, verse 28: Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.

Read it at home. Believe it. Try it. What a blessing that’s yours for the asking.


Today’s Readings:
Zechariah 9: 9–10
Psalm 145
Romans 8: 9–13
Matthew 11: 25–30