These final verses from the eleventh chapter of
Matthew’s gospel are among the most comforting we
find in all of scripture.
The truth is that I am not a scripture memorizer
usually, but these words I know by heart. As one of
your pastors, I have spoken them more times than
I could possibly count. At hospital bedsides, during
funerals, in worship, in the midst of difficult diagnoses
and treatments. Jesus’ words: “Come to me, all you
who are weary and 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.” An invitation and a promise—words
nearly universal in their reach. For who among has
not felt weighed down by heavy burdens or weary?
How many of us feel this way right now, at this very
moment? Don’t worry—I won’t ask for a show of
hands, but I know that we’re here.
These words are perennial. They speak to the reality
of the human condition, to the fact that there is
something that we will always need that Christ will
always offer. In the same way that we will never not
thirst, we will never not need Christ’s invitation. True
to the nature of a ‘greatest hit,’ these words don’t
get old. We don’t tire of their tune or outgrow their
message. “Come to me, all you who are weary and
carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
For as comforting as these words are, it might
surprise us to realize that in the earlier part of
this passage, Jesus is angry. Since we have just
parachuted down into Matthew 11 for today, it
may be helpful to have some context here. In this
chapter in Matthew’s gospel, we find Jesus in the
midst of building conflict. He has been going about
his ministry of healing and teaching, keeping close
company with the sick, with the unclean, with tax
collectors and sinners. The religious leaders of
his generation have some opinions about this. It’s
obvious to them, and they think it should be obvious
to others: This man is a glutton, and a drunkard! The
same religious leaders also reject John the Baptist,
the purported prophet and messenger from God:
This man clothes himself in camel’s hair and rants and
raves in the wilderness.
John the Baptist is too pious; Jesus is not pious enough.
In these verses from Matthew’s gospel, we find Jesus’
annoyance on full display. These religious leaders are
like bickering children who get upset when others
don’t play according to their rules. John the Baptist
doesn’t eat and drink, and they say he has a demon;
Jesus eats and drinks, and they say he’s a glutton and
a drunkard. It’s impossible to win.
There is a second source of Jesus’ anger with the
religious leaders, and this is probably the bigger
one: Jesus believes that the religious leaders have
warped the teachings of the Torah from something
beautiful and life-giving to something harsh and
burdensome. This is not Jesus rejecting Judaism as a
flawed religion—after all, Jesus was a Jew, so this is
very much his faith and his community. He is angry
about a particular way of practicing Judaism that
was legalistic and demanding, an impossible burden
for ordinary people who did not have the time or the
knowledge or the resources to devote their lives to
a religious vocation He is angry about the particular
so-called “wise and intelligent” religious leaders who
have created stumbling blocks for God’s children,
denying access to the gifts and comfort of a life with
God to those who need it the most.
So, this is the context that is swirling in the air. This is
the mix of anger with the religious leaders and also
compassion for a suffering people that prompts these
words of life, and I invite you to hear them again.
“Come to me, all you that are weary and 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.”
It is as if Jesus is saying, “I see you. You are so tired
and weighed down. It doesn’t have to be this way.
Come to me. Take my yoke upon you. Allow me to
teach you. For my yoke is kind and good.”
Words of grace for those crowds of ordinary people,
and for us.
I learned this week about a man who amassed quite a
following doing extraordinary deeds, healing the sick
and restoring sight to the blind.
I’m actually not talking about Jesus in this case
but rather a 20-something-year-old YouTuber who
has become famous by orchestrating lavish and
sometimes absurd acts of kindness and generosity,
usually involving large sums of money. His videos on
YouTube have titles like, “1000 blind people see for
the first time” and “We saved an orphanage.” Some
are challenges, like, “Last to leave the circle wins
$500,000” or “Would you sit in a tub full of snakes
for $10,000?” (Spoiler alert: it appears that many
people would.)
This famous YouTuber has over 165 million global
subscribers who watch his videos, which regularly
amass tens if not hundreds of millions of views. I’ve
been pondering this phenomenon this week with a
mix of amusement and befuddlement, but that wasn’t
all, and at a certain point I realized that I felt a certain
kind of sadness about this. We still long for a savior.
Someone who will cure our diseases. Someone who
will give us purpose and meaning. Someone who will
set us free from despair and restore our hope.
The truth is that there are many would-be messiahs
auditioning for this role, offering us their own
promises, their own kind of yoke. There is an entire
wellness industry that promises that we can be
perfected, that “we can organize ourselves, heal
ourselves, budget ourselves, love ourselves, and eat
well enough to make ourselves whole.” This is what
Kate Bowler explores in her newest book entitled
No Cure for Being Human. Kate is a theologian, an
author, a professor at Duke Divinity School. She was
diagnosed with stage IV cancer at the age of 35.
Bowler writes,
Modernity is a fever dream promising infinite
choices and unlimited progress. We can learn how
to be young forever, successful forever, agents of
our own perfectibility. We can fall in love with Tony
Robbins and Eckhart Tolle, Joyce Meyer and Rachel
Hollis. Women can learn that their better selves
can be measured in Weight Watchers points,
squeeze into Kim Kardashian’s waist trainers, or be
enhanced by the right shade of Mary Kay lipstick.
Men can save like Dave Ramsey, master the habits
of highly effective people, or flip a tire or two at
their local CrossFit. The American admiration
for bootstrappers and optimists [has become] a
capitalist paradise. Everyone is now a televangelist
of the gospel of good, better, best. “Harness your
mind to change your circumstances. The salvation
of health and wealth and happiness is only a
decision away. Will you finally let it save you?”
Now I want to be clear that if you came here today
wearing your favorite shade of Mary Kay lipstick,
or you’re going to leave and flip a tire or two, there
is absolutely nothing wrong with that. But there is
a larger question about the yoke we choose, who
or what we allow to guide us for the work of living.
I might love my lipstick or try to prioritize caring for
my body, but if I start to believe that these things can
save me, I have chosen the wrong yoke.
And we’ve all been there, haven’t we? Some of us are
there right now. Disappointed. Defeated. Let down
and without hope.
But just as Jesus has compassion for the crowds, he
has compassion for us, and scripture safeguards the
words that we need to hear. “Come to me, all you who
are weary and 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.”
My prayer is that you hear this invitation anew today.
If religious institutions and leaders have let you down
or turned you away, Christ’s yoke is for you.
If the freedom and agency promised by productivity,
earning, and achieving have left you feeling captive
in a life you no longer recognize, the yoke of Christ is
for you.
If the miracle benefits of the latest diet, lifestyle fad,
or self-help scheme have fallen flat, the yoke of Christ
is for you.
It is for all of us.
Paradoxically, we know that taking on the yoke of
Christ does not mean a life free from hardship and
difficulty, loss, or hard work. These will always be a
part of our human lives. As Kate Bowler likes to say,
“There’s no cure for being human.” And we also know
that taking on Christ’s yoke, despite being “easy”
and “light,” is not without cost. We will be asked to
sacrifice and to grow in integrity and to be formed
according to the fruit of the spirit.
But, friends, here’s the difference between the yoke of
Christ and the yokes of infinite choices or unlimited
progress: When we take on the yoke of Christ, we can
trust the one who guides us. He is gentle and humble
in heart. He is not a stumbling block or an empty
promise, but a welcoming embrace, an open door to a
life with God.
Yes, when we take on the yoke of Christ, we can trust
the one who guides us. His promises are sure. He
leads us not to disillusionment and despair, but to life.
Thanks be to God. Amen.