Tuesday, July 25, 2017

On Weeds



7th Sunday after Pentecost
July 23, 2017
Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

            I did not inherit the green thumb in my family. My Grandpa has it. My mom has it. My middle sister has it. I consider it really good that I haven’t killed the plant my first church gave me six years ago. Low sunlight. Minimal watering. Low maintenance. It’s only almost died twice, which is pretty good for me. However, living now in our second parsonage, and being responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of not just the house, but the yard, I’ve been slowly working on my gardening skills. I had just about gotten used to the flower beds this past spring, our third one there. Now we’re here. And I had to ask my mom the same question. Because before I ever add anything to a flower bed, I get rid of the weeds. Before you can get rid of the weeds, you have to know what’s a weed. Some, I know, like dandelions and clover and this one at the old house that had orange roots and one I found here that’s really a super-long vine. But each time I’ve had to ask my mom, is this a weed or a plant I want to keep? And she patiently goes through the yard with me, naming off the plants and explaining that the hosta plants here are extremely happy ones because it’s unusual that they grow to quite that size. She’s also told me that, ultimately, a weed is anything you don’t want. As gardener-in-residence at the parsonage, weeds are whatever I don’t want growing in the flower beds.
            In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells this story about the kingdom of heaven being like a field that has had good seeds planted in it. Then, during the night, the enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, so that when the plants began to sprout, you had good plants and weeds all growing together. The farmhands verify with the farmer that, “You did plant the right seeds, didn’t you?” And the farmer says, “Yes. An enemy planted the weeds.” The farmhands then offer to pull up the weeds, but the farmer says, “No, because while you are pulling the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. Then we will separate the wheat from the weeds.” You see, the problem is that “the roots, stems, and leaves of the good plants and those of the weeds have become so tangled that the weeds cannot be pulled out without damaging the good plants.”[1] This is like the vine that had wrapped itself around one of the stalks of a hosta plant. I had to carefully unwind it, because if I had just pulled, I would have pulled the whole branch of the hosta plant off, too. Or, to use another parsonage example, at our previous house there was a walnut tree. If you look closely at it, it’s one tree, but one side is dead and the other side is living. Removing the dead part of the tree would require some very careful surgery. What Jesus is talking about with this story is “the subtle entanglement of good and evil.”[2] Jesus says that, for now, good and evil must exist together. That’s something that’s hard for us. It’s certainly not something we want to hear. I think we’re more inclined to be like the farmhands and say “Let’s pull out the weeds!” 
So, in the interest of being proactive, because y’all really do seem more like a Type A go-get-‘em congregation, let’s start with the weeds we can do something about. How do you tell the difference between what’s a weed and what’s not? I feel like I need a punchline here, but all I have is my mom’s advice: a weed is anything you don’t want. And the weeds we can do something about are the things that hinder abundant life. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”[3] So, “what are the weeds that threaten a harvest of abundant life in our world?”[4] We can start large-scale and name things like racism, sexism, discrimination of any kind, no access to clean water or to healthcare, lack of opportunities for education. I could describe the village in Nicaragua where I taught English and held Bible Study, sometimes at the same time. When I asked any of the locals why it was important to learn English, they said it’s because you can get a better job if you know English. There were other issues at work, too, but that was one thing that brought them a little bit closer to a better life. What keeps you from abundant life? Let’s bring this down to a personal level. What are the weeds in your life? Being part of a social group where you’re really not comfortable with all that’s being said? Bad habits? Too much time on certain online sites? Too much time on devices instead of face-to-face with people? I read this past week how that was a reason for attending church in person, rather than just watching online or through a podcast.[5] When you’re streaming something like that from home, chances are you’re also eating or cleaning or skimming a magazine. The phone may ring. The neighbor’s dog barks. But when you come here in person, you’ve got uninterrupted time to focus on God and you’ve got the community of faith physically surrounding you, worshipping God with you. Maybe being disengaged from church is the weed that’s keeping you from living life to the fullest. It might be time to stop watering that weed and start re-engaging. We’ve got some exciting plans in the works for the fall. If you’re feeling nudged to be a part of the planning, please let me know.
And you may well want to ask, why bother? Unless you dig down really deep to get all of the roots out, weeds just grow back. And didn’t Jesus just say that we’re not supposed to pull up the weeds, anyway, because it will harm the wheat? But, Jesus didn’t say to just leave the field alone and let it grow with abandon. We are still called to tend the garden. Just because there are weeds does not mean we don’t do anything! We don’t get a free pass and we don’t give up. God calls us “to continue to care for the field as a whole until the time of harvest.”[6] We are still co-laborers with God, like we talked about last week. We are still responsible for what God has entrusted to our care. And we are those good seeds planted in the field. What we need to make sure we recognize is that Jesus is not condemning anyone here. He refuses to identify who’s wheat and who’s weed. Instead, Jesus is simply inviting us to join him in the holy work of tending the garden.[7] We can’t avoid weeds. We can’t avoid evil. We live with the weeds among the Word. Among the things that drain life from us, we find the things that are life-giving. And “rather than attempting [some] self-righteous weed pulling,” what we can do is name, unmask, and engage the powers that be with a spirit of love and accountability rather than one of judgment.[8] Identify and name the things that are draining you, the weedy areas of your life, the places where the weeds are literally choking the life out of the wheat. Remember, Jesus says they are to grow together. If these weeds have gotten too pernicious, if they are preventing the wheat from growing, then, yeah, you need to do something about them. Start with prayer, perhaps: “God, what would you have me do? God, show me a path, because I want to be healthier, I want to be more full of life. I want that abundant life you promised.”
The farmer told the farmhands not to pull out the weeds as long as they’re growing together. However, we have all promised in our baptismal vows to “renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of [our] sin.”[9] We also promised to “accept the freedom and power God gives [us] to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves.”[10] Tending the field does not mean anything goes. Tending the field still means we reject evil, we resist injustice and oppression, we call out anything that is choking the wheat, that is preventing the wheat from reaching its full God-given potential. You don’t have to live in a bubble to reach your potential. It’s often because of or in spite of the weeds that we grow and mature. Those weedy hardships and tests are often catalysts for growth as we work alongside God.
And isn’t it a relief to know that we’re not responsible for the final decision on what’s a weed and what’s a good plant? Jesus says the angels do that. It’s kinda like the Sorting Hat in Harry Potter. The Sorting Hat determined which house each student would become a member of; not Dumbledore, the headmaster, or one of the professors, or anyone else. 
That’s not our place. We do not sort people. God will determine on the last day who’s going where. The weeds we’ve talked about are not people. When it comes to people, I’m reminded of some advice I was given a long time ago, which was to err on the side of grace. It’s not too different from what Pope Francis said a few years ago, “Who am I to judge?”[11] If someone is seeking after God, wants to do right with their life, who are we to judge that person? We can name and identify evil. We can pray and turn it over to God. We can discern how to root out the places in our lives where evil has grabbed hold. Yet, it is near impossible to judge that for someone else.
I read another story this past week about why erring on the side of grace is so important. A colleague of mine in North Carolina shared on Facebook a blog post from a pastor in Alabama. I will confess it was the title that intrigued me. It was called “He’s my F-ing Pastor!”[12] Unusual title, right? This pastor uses the local Waffle House as his second office and one morning went in and sat down at the low bar, not noticing that there was already a coffee mug at that place. The person whose coffee it was returned and lit into the pastor for taking his seat. This guy was another regular, with a reputation for being rough and crude and foul-mouthed. Yet before the pastor could respond to him and presumably apologize to him, two waitresses came over and basically told him, “Lay off, he’s our f-ing pastor!” Those two waitresses weren’t part of this pastor’s church, yet they considered him to be their pastor. The pastor had no idea they thought of him that way. Then a month later, the original rough guy came up to the pastor and asked him to pray for him because he was having some cancer testing done later that day. The pastor said, “Of course,” but before he could say anything else, like a prayer, the guy then opened up to him and shared with him the ten minute version of his life story, basically explaining how he had come to be so rough and crude. In his blog, the pastor wrote that “the reason [this guy] was an angry, and hurtful man is he was filled with guilt that separated him from God. Guilt from things he did he thought were not forgivable.  And I thought I know and preach that God can forgive anything, I have never put him to “the test” of his forgiveness like [this guy] has to.  If I [had gone through what he did,] the event might make me an even bigger, hateful, guilt filled ass than [this guy].  It reminded me that people are never the enemy.”[13] Then, last week, this guy came into the Waffle House quiet and somber. His son had died the night before in an accident. His family doesn’t go to church, doesn’t know many people who do, doesn’t know any preachers outside of this pastor, and they asked the pastor if he’d come and share from the Bible and share some words over their son. This pastor had been about ready to give up on going to the Waffle House. Nothing had ever come of it. One or two people he met there had ever come to church, but none of them had ever gotten involved. Yet because he was there, he was able to show God’s love to this guy and his family. You never know what someone else is going through. And by simply making yourself available to God, you never know how God is going to use you.
You see, “the [mere] presence of weeds does not destroy the wheat, and the presence of evil will never thwart God’s good intentions.”[14] We are called to live in the world. That means with the good plants and the weeds. You get something weedy growing on you or wrapping itself around a stalk, like that vine on the hosta bush, carefully disentangle it. But the plants next to you… it can be hard to judge wheat from weed sometimes. Err on the side of grace. We don’t always know how God is going to use evil for good. We don’t always know how God is going to redeem the mess of wheat and weeds growing together. We can name those things that are life-draining. We can name those things that are life-giving. We can help others name their things, too, in a way that is loving and not harsh judgment. We can err on the side of grace. Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” With God’s help, we can do it. Thanks be to God. Amen.

[2] Ibid.
[3] John 10:10
[4] Preaching God’s Transforming Justice, Year A, p. 330
[6] Preaching God’s Transforming Justice, Year A, p. 330
[7] Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Vol. 1, p. 389
[8] Preaching God’s Transforming Justice, Year A, p. 331
[9] UMH
[10] UMH
[13] Ibid.
[14] Preaching God’s Transforming Justice, Year A, p. 330
Posted by at No comments:

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

On Farming



6th Sunday after Pentecost
July 16, 2017
Matthew 13:1-9; 18-23

            Our family has four different dinnertime prayers that we use, depending on how hungry we are or who gets to pick it. My son’s current favorite, if he gets his choice, is the Johnny Appleseed song. We change the “I” to “we” and the “me” to “us,” because God’s been good to us as a family. You’re welcome to join me if you know it. I may or may not be on key.
[Sing:] O, the Lord’s been good to us. And so we thank the Lord, for giving us the things we need: the sun and the rain and the apple seed. The Lord is good to us.  Amen.
The folklore around Johnny Appleseed makes him seem quite a bit like the seed bomber that the farmer in our Gospel story was. Just tossing out seeds wherever he went. Not really caring where they landed. Planting apple trees all over the place. That’s the legend. Johnny Appleseed’s real name was John Chapman, and he didn’t actually seed bomb. He intentionally planted nurseries, not orchards, of apple trees throughout the Ohio River Valley and into New York State. John Chapman wasn’t really wasteful or careless or foolish. He “built fences around them to protect them from livestock, left the nurseries in the care of a neighbor… and returned every year or two to tend the nursery.”[1] Johnny Appleseed was deliberate and purposeful with where he planted those apple seeds. He made sure they were tended to and nurtured.
Yet, at a glance, the farmer in this story that Jesus tells does not seem to be like that. This farmer appears wasteful and foolish. He appears to not really care where the seeds fall. Let the chips falls where they may, right? But to a farmer, and I know some of you know this better than me, so please correct me if I’m wrong, the seeds are important, right? You pay attention to where you plant them because you want them to produce a good harvest. So, why doesn’t this farmer pay more attention to where the seeds fall?? Why does he let them fall on rocky ground and on the path and among thorns? Why doesn’t he plant them all in good soil? It doesn’t really seem to make sense. Especially since we know this farmer is God.
Let’s start with the explanation that Jesus gives. Jesus tells that parable to a huge crowd, but the explanation for the parable he only gives to his disciples. He tells them that the seeds are the Word of God’s kingdom. Those who only hear them and don’t understand, that’s like the seed that fell on the path. The seeds on the rocky ground are like those who hear the Word with joy, but as soon as the going gets tough, they fall away, because their roots don’t go down very deep. The thorns just completely choke the seeds that fall on them, like getting distracted by the cares and shiny things of this world. And then there’s the good soil. There the seeds can put down roots and grow into plants and bear fruit.
So, the usual takeaway from this is: be good soil. Seek to understand the Word. Grow and develop and mature as a Christian. Keep your heart set after God and not any of the shiny things of this world. Just hearing the Word is not enough. James 1:22 says, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.” Don’t be just hearers of the Word. Be doers of the Word. The kind of ground that seed is sown in makes a difference. Everywhere the farmer scatters seed hears the Word, but each type of ground responds to it differently. There’s ground that’s full of rocks that prevent the roots from growing very deeply. There’s ground that’s actually been cleared of plants in order to be the path. There’s ground that’s full of thorns that choke whatever else tries to grow there. And there’s that good, rich, black soil where plants can be happy and grow. All of those types of grounds hear the Word. But just hearing the word is not enough to be happy and grow. We are called to bear fruit. We bear fruit and produce a harvest when we are not just hearers of the word but doers. And when we become doers, we join God in God’s work. We become co-laborers with God.
You see, we join God in God’s work of sowing seeds. We’re not the head farmer; we’re more like farmhands. We plant the seeds where we’re told to plant them, not where we choose. We are not in charge; we don’t get to decide. We go where we’re sent, regardless of our opinion of the place. And if the farmer wants seeds sown in ground that we don’t think is that great, we do it, anyway. God’s the head farmer; we are simply the servants. Jesus tells his disciples in the Gospel of Luke that “When you have done everything required of you, you should say, ‘We servants deserve no special praise. We have only done our duty.’”[2] That’s all we’re doing is what God has asked us to do. And it very likely may go unrecognized and un-praised. The point is that you do it. You are obedient to the call God has placed on your life. There is a call that is specific to each person and there is a call that is for all who follow Jesus. Go, make disciples of all nations. Share the Good News about Jesus. Be his witness.
Turns out discipleship, living the life of a disciple of Jesus, is a lot like farming. Through your life, through your witness, you scatter seeds. Some seeds you never know if anything came of them. Other seeds you get to nourish and cultivate and water. And yet even with careful planning, there are still always things we can’t control. Drought. Flooding. Tornados. “Even the best farmers cannot control the world around them” and the crop is affected both by our orderly plans or watering and nurturing and by things we over which we have no control.[3] Some years it’s a bumper crop. Some years you lose a crop. Farming involves risk and failure. It involves investment. And you want the most return on your investment, right? Yet sometimes we lose our investment. Sometimes it does not turn out well. In the case of this farmer, remember that the seeds are God’s word. “We believers are charged with the responsibility of farming God’s Word.”[4] We plant seeds, we water them, we tend to them. But Paul makes it clear in 1 Corinthians that it is only God who makes them grow. “Neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow. The one who plants and the one who waters have one purpose, and they will each be rewarded according to their own labor. We are God’s coworkers.”[5] God knows some people are going to reject God; that’s their choice. We do the work assigned to us. And if you start to feel discouraged, remember what God said through the prophet Isaiah, “As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”[6] It will be okay. It may be frustrating at times, but God’s got it under control.
You know why? Because in another sense, we’re the seeds God is sowing. And seeds are all about potential. Is the seed going to grow into a beautiful plant and bear fruit? Or is it going to be a dud? Or get swept away? In other words, are you going to bloom where you’re planted? Or are you going to refuse to put down roots and stay shallow, like those seeds on the rocky ground? It is said that your life is the only Bible some people will ever read. The way you live your life, the witness you give simply by how you go about things is noticed. Problem is that the world has noticed that our lives aren’t too different from non-believers. We’ve gotten distracted by all the shiny things and worldly comforts. Or maybe we’ve got Stockholm Syndrome and don’t want to live differently. Brothers and sisters, for those of us who follow Jesus, our lives should be different. We are called to bear fruit. Our lives should share the word of God’s kingdom, of salvation, of God’s extravagant love for the whole world.
The new name for the parable of the prodigal son is the parable of the father’s extravagant love. Even though the younger son demanded his inheritance early, even though he ran away with it, even though he squandered it, the father was always waiting back at home with open arms, with extravagant love. God loves the whole world so much that God sent the Son, Jesus, not to judge the world but to save it. Extravagant love. It turns out there’s not too much difference between extravagance and foolishness. That farmer sure appears foolish, wasting seed like that. It seems wasteful and extravagant. It wasn’t how Johnny Appleseed went about things. Yet the purpose behind those seeds, behind the apple seeds, behind you and me, is life and transformation. And not transformation for our own sake; we aren’t here for us. We’ve already established that, right? There’s no room for egoism here and wanting praise and recognition. We’re lowly farmhands. Our mission is to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world, for the transformation of our community. We’re not here for ourselves. We’re here for the sake of the world.
For a plant to be happy and grow you need good soil and good seeds and a nurturing farmer. Turns out we’re the seeds. Choose to be a good seed. We decide how we respond to God’s Word and which soil we’re going to be. Choose to be good soil. God is the good farmer, the good shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep, the extravagantly loving father. We do our work as the farmhands, not knowing in advance what the yield may be. Good soil, good seed, and a nurturing farmer.  All three are needed for a bumper crop.  God alone gives the growth. God has said that his Word will not return to him empty. Thanks be to God. Amen.

[2] Luke 17:10 CEB
[3] Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Vol. 1, p. 353
[4] Ibid.
[5] 1 Corinthians 3:7
[6] Isaiah 55:10-11
Posted by at No comments:

Rest, Yoke, and Other Four-Letter Words



5th Sunday after Pentecost
July 9, 2017
Matthew 11:25-30

            Before the seasons of Advent and Lent each year our Bishop hosts a Bishop’s Day Apart for clergy. This past February, before Lent began, Bishop Easterling invited her former seminary professor, the Rev. Dr. Zina Jacque, who titled the day, “Lent and Other Four-Letter Words.” I borrowed the idea for my Lenten sermon series last spring, turning our membership vows when you join the church into four-letter words. It was a lot of fun. Apparently, I still have it on the brain, because looking at this morning’s Gospel, and those well-known verses at the end of it, what stood out to me were the four-letter words. And not just that they were four letters, but that we often treat them as curse words. Yoke? Really? Who wants to be tied down? We live in a society that’s all about changing jobs, changing houses, changing spouses when the previous one doesn’t work for us anymore. The idea of rest is just as bad. We tend to value busyness and accomplishments more than we value rest. It’s probably not surprising that Matthew 11:28-30 is a favorite passage for so many people because Jesus speaks about rest for our souls. Rest for our souls. What does that look like? What does that feel like? Do you find it on a weekly basis? One day a week is supposed to be Sabbath, kept apart, a day that is holy for God, a day when you don’t work, however you define work for you. Whether it’s not your day job or not vacuuming the house or maybe a day when you don’t have to get in the car, one day a week is to rest. That’s in addition to each night (or each day if you work nights). After six days of creating, God took a day and rested from the work of creating the heavens and the earth. And Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy burdened, 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.”
            Did you notice the very first four-letter word there? Before Jesus talks about rest or yokes, Jesus says, “Come. Come to me.” It’s an invitation. It’s hospitality. It means you can say no. Or if it’s an evite or a Facebook invite, you can say maybe. Regardless, it’s an open invitation, because who doesn’t feel like the recipient of that invite? Come to me, all you who are weary, heavy burdened, tired, struggling hard, worn out, burned out, laboring for what does not satisfy. Whether physically, or mentally, or emotionally, or spiritually, at some point we all hit a time of struggle, a time of wondering if we can really handle this, if there really is light at the end of the tunnel. When you are there, wondering if you can make it through and how to deal and considering other tonics, Jesus says, “Come to me. I will give you rest.”
Now, it’s Sunday morning. Maybe you’re not feeling weary. Maybe you don’t stay up Saturday night. Maybe you don’t have kids or pets or a bladder that wakes you up during the night. Out of curiosity, is anyone feeling really well-rested this morning? I’m not asking to be jealous; I’m asking so that we can be happy with you that you’re rested! That is an occasion to celebrate! When my son was a baby and my daughter was 2 and constantly getting ear infections, I remember asking my sister once, “Please tell me you had a good night’s sleep last night.” And she said, “Yes,” a little incredulously. I said, “Good. I need to know someone is. I need to know that a good night’s sleep does exist.” It can be possible to be so weary that rest becomes not just a passing oasis, a moving target, but a mirage in the desert. Does it even exist anymore? Or do I need to resort to alternating between caffeine and Benadryl, or whatever your preferred stimulant and narcotic are, in order to function when I’m supposed to function and sleep when I’m supposed to sleep? Everyone needs rest. Land needs rest, that’s why you let it lie fallow every seven years or whatever interval. Even Jesus needs rest. You remember the story of when the disciples are in their boat on the sea and there’s a big storm and Jesus walks to them on the water and Peter tests his faith by trying to walk on the water? Jesus walks to them on the water because he wasn’t with them 24/7. He had taken some time apart by himself. Even our tablets and smart phones need rest. They act up if you don’t turn them off every once in a while.
Resting is a bit countercultural, because it’s time to just be, not to do.[1] Yet we tend to fill up our time off, fill our vacation days with activity after activity, we don’t dare rest, or take time to rest. We’re afraid stuff won’t get done, or … we just don’t know what to do with ourselves without an activity. Rest gets associated with being unproductive because there aren’t always visible results, other than maybe fewer bags under your eyes or less stress in your jaw. We’re afraid to get behind. We don’t want to miss anything. We don’t want to be thought of as lazy and work is a socially approved addiction. It is hard to unplug. St. Augustine tells God in his confessions that “our hearts are restless until they find rest in you.” Jesus offers us rest, and yet just like the invitation to come, it is up to us to accept the gift. It’s an offer we shouldn’t refuse, and yet so many of us do. Rest. Make time for your favorite hobby. Spend time with your favorite people. Go to your happy place, the place that relaxes your soul, the place where you can usually hear God. Come to Jesus, and he will give you rest.
Yet the story doesn’t end there. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? But noooo, Jesus keeps going. “Take my yoke upon you.” Wait, what? A yoke? A burden? A heavy load? Wait a minute, Jesus, you just said if we had heavy burdens we were to come to you and now you’re going to give us another heavy burden?! I think the source of the yoke makes all the difference. Sometimes we take on heavy loads that we were never meant to carry. We may think we’re helping someone when all we’re doing is hurting ourselves, and that other person. You may not be the person God has in mind to carry that load. Sometimes we take on too much. It’s not that God gives us too much; sometimes we give ourselves too much. There’s a children’s story about a man whose job it is to carry one stone up a hill. And he can do it, he can carry that stone by himself, it’s not too heavy. But on his way, a friend asks him to carry his small pebble, too. And then another friend finds out he’s going to the top and asks if he can take something for him, too. And you know where this is going. The man ends up carrying too much, the load becomes too heavy, and he cries out to God and God asks him about his original stone. That was the only thing God had asked him to carry up the hill. Yes, we are to help bear one another’s burdens. When you’re sad, I’m sad, too. When you’re well-rested, I’m happy for you. But each person is still responsible for their own load. Jesus says, “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.” Jesus doesn’t say there will be no burden, no yoke. He says, take my yoke. In a couple of the newest translations, Jesus says, “I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Put My yoke upon your shoulders—it might appear heavy at first, but it is perfectly fitted to you.”[2] It’s a burden you can carry.
And you know, that’s not the end of it. Jesus also invites us to learn from him. Walk with him. Work with him. It’s not a drop-off, here you go, bye! It’s here, this is my yoke, now let’s walk together. It’s take up your cross, only your cross, and follow me. There is a job God has that is specific to you. It is humble service. It is the costly way of discipleship that Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote about. It is a life of freedom and joy. If, instead, it’s feeling like bondage and oppression, if it’s sucking all your joy, if it is life-draining, then it is probably not your job. And you are probably denying someone else the opportunity to serve God in that way. Jesus’ yoke is easy, and yet it is still a yoke. It is life-giving. It is work, but it is not busyness. It is putting others first, and yet not at the expense of your own health. Jesus says that with his yoke, you will find rest for your soul. You will recover your life. You’ll learn to live freely and lightly. It’s a promise. And we know God is faithful and keeps promises.
Come. Rest. Take my yoke. God wants what’s best for you. God wants life for you, and not just life but abundant life. Health and salvation. A life of discipleship. Take time to come and rest every day, every week. The day you don’t work, take time to discern if the burden you carry is indeed the one God has given you, and if it’s not, let it go! That Frozen song comes in handy. It’s a little more well-known than a tune in your hymnal that says, “Take your burden to the Lord and leave it there.” [3]


[1] Much of this paragraph from “Lent and Other Four-Letter Words,” Rev. Dr. Zina Jacque, February 22, 2017
[2] The Message and The Voice
[3] UMH 522
Posted by at No comments:
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)