Rest in the Yoke

My grandpa builds covered wagons--old west style. He and my grandma live in the countryside flint hills of the midwest U.S. Just like those of the Oregon Trail, he trains oxen and yokes them to pull massive conestogas across the rolling hills.

When I was younger, my grandpa used to let me help yoke up the oxen. The beasts were huge (and not just because I was small). The yoke itself, which connects the oxen together in pulling the wagon, probably weighed at least 30 pounds and was wider than I was tall.

So when the Bible talks about yokes, I know them first hand. This is part of the reason why I often had a hard time with the end of Matthew 11. Here, Jesus says:

"Come to me, all you who are weary and 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."

That was always confusing to me. From everything I've seen, being yoked is no restful thing! Yoked oxen undergo long and strenuous labor.

But now that I look at this in the larger context of what was happening then, it makes more sense. The Jewish culture in Jesus' time on earth was very legalistic, focusing heavily on the do's and don'ts of life. The religious leaders of the day would have imposed heavy laws on the people in order for them to remain in God's graces.

Jesus is not inviting people to come in from the playground and yoke up. Everyone (then and now) has a yoke already. Jesus, then, invites us to trade one yoke for another: the oppressive deed-focused yoke for his light-burden yoke.

That makes sense. I've fallen into that mindset before, thinking I have to be good to be loved. It's a terrible, scary feeling--a never-ending struggle to measure up. It leaves me exhausted and discouraged.

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

Even though Christ calls me to take up my cross and follow him (which is no simple action), his yoke is still infinitely better than the alternative. It is for freedom that Christ has set me free. I will not be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1)

As big and powerful as my grandpa's oxen were, this yokemate is the omnipotent Creator of the universe. I can find no place of greater rest for my soul than firmly yoked to him, my Savior.

I love that.

Take Heart, Son

It drove me crazy when they called me that word, but now I love it.

This morning I was reading part of Matthew. I ran across the chapter where Jesus first sends out His disciples. He gives (in my opinion) one of the most intense speeches in scripture, shifting back and forth from explaining the coming challenges and offering comfort.

Toward the end, he references a verse from Micah in the Old Testament, saying, "I have come to turn a man against his father and a daughter against her mother... a man's enemies will be the members of his own household." Chilling. I've often strugged with this part of the Bible. Is Jesus really wanting to break up families?

One of my favorite current commentators writes about this. "The greatest danger of idolatry comes not from what is bad, but from what is good - like love in family relationships. The greatest danger to the best comes from second best." So by focusing solely on my father here, I lose focus elsewhere. That makes sense.

Years ago, it drove me crazy when people (especially much older people) would call me son. Now, for some reason, I like it. It's comforting. Thankfully, Jesus does just that in the previous chapter of Matthew with two people, a man and a woman.

"Take heart, son. Take heart, daughter," He says.

God wants me to recognize Him as Father first--even before my biological father. It's difficult for me to recognize sometimes, but the Creator of the universe calls me "son." I love that. And it makes me take heart.