Rich Mullins sings a song in which part of the lyrics say, “Sometimes my life just don’t make sense at all. The mountains seem so big and my faith just seems so small. Hold me Jesus, for I’m shaking like a leaf, you have been king of my glory, won’t you be my Prince of Peace.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve listened to that song when I’ve been in the midst of a struggle. Whether I’ve been facing an important decision or found myself in the midst of a crisis, for there have been times where I’ve looked up at the mountains and they have seemed so big, and the thought of climbing those mountains was terrifying.
I imagine many of you have been in similar circumstances. How did you deal with the large mountains looming in front of you? Often times we rely on bumper sticker theology, and by bumper sticker theology, I mean those cute little sayings that would fit on a bumper sticker. “Life isn’t a bed of roses.” “Time heals all wounds.” “The sun will come up tomorrow.” “Don’t worry, be happy.” “You just never know.”
There is an element of truth in each of these thoughts, and we say them to ourselves and to each other usually with a glimmer of hope and wishful thinking, much like we would hope for a band-aid to take care of a gunshot wound. There’s a big hole. There’s lots of damage and a great deal of pain. We hope this’ll fix it, but it rarely does. Have you ever been there? Have you ever looked life square in the eye and had it snarl back at you? It ain’t fun and it ain’t easy.
Jesus was acutely aware of this when he said, “Come to me all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Jesus extended this invitation to those who were exhausted. He extended this invitation to those who were worn out. He extended this invitation to those who were searching for truth.
The first century Jew understood and related to God through the Law of Moses. During that day, the Law was all about “Thou Shall Not.” The Law was heavy. The Law was burdensome. Trying to find God and searching for truth in any situation, whether it was joy or sorrow, was an ordeal. Christ realized that those in search of the truth, that those in search of God, that those seeking rest, were in of Good News. Christ is the Good News.
When you’re in need of rest, what do you do? When you come home from a long day at work, and you’re exhausted and worn out, what do you do? For me, one of the first things I do to help myself unwind is change clothes. I get out of the slacks, dress shirt, and dress shoes, and put on a pair of sweat pants and a sweatshirt. My mother calls it “putting on your soft clothes.” There’s something therapeutic and cleansing about “putting on your soft clothes.”
Perhaps you or your children have a favorite blanket or stuffed animal? Perhaps they sleep with it or keep it close by during the day? There’s a certain comfort, there’s a certain peace, there’s a certain ability to find rest that comes with the familiarity of that favorite blanket or stuffed animal. Christ’s invitation is for each of us to experience that same familiarity, to find that same peace, that same comfort, and that same rest with him.
He speaks to them in a way that they can understand: “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me.” Many folk in that day had oxen, and a yoke was necessary to provide guidance. A yoke could either be burly, uncomfortable and binding, or it could be custom-made to provide a smooth, easy fit. Christ was offering them the benefit of his yoke. Christ was offering them the benefit of a smooth, easy fitting guide that would bring them comfort and rest.
A great deal has taken place during this past week to remind us of the need for an easy-fitting yoke that will bring comfort and rest. Many of you are aware of the relationship that Bert and our youth group cultivated with Alison Duprey. Before Alison graduated from high school, she was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. For the past few years, she and her family have dealt with the pain of cancer, the joy of remission, and the sorrow of its return. They fought for healing. They tried almost every conceivable treatment and medication to cure Alison. They desperately wanted to find comfort and peace.
Over the past few months, it became obvious that Alison was not going to survive. The family began making to prepare themselves. Instead of pursuing treatment, they focused on making Alison comfortable. They wanted her suffering to end. Though they never gave up hope for Alison, their greatest desire for her became peace and rest. I can scarcely imagine the physical and emotional toll that these past few years have inflicted upon her parents. Their sole focus was taking care of their daughter. It’s not supposed to be that way. “Hold me Jesus, for I’m shaking like a leaf.”
Our faith tells us that Alison has now been healed.
Our faith tells us that the war that raged inside her body for so many years is now over, and she is at peace. But what about her friends and her family, who must go on living? Now, more than ever, they are in need of rest. Now, more than ever, they are now in need of comfort. Now, more than ever, they are now in need of the gentle yoke of Jesus Christ. Now, more than ever, their weary souls need peace. Now more than ever, they need to utter the words of Rich Mullins, “Hold me Jesus, for I’m shaking like a leaf, you have been king of my glory, won’t you be my prince of peace.”
What mountain are you staring at? What mountain are you in the midst of climbing but don’t have the energy? What’s taking place in your life where you need to sit down and say, “Hold me Jesus, for I’m shaking like a leaf, you have been king of my glory, won’t you be my prince of peace.”
What is that makes us so self-sufficient that we refuse to cry out to God and ask him to hold us? What is that makes us so prideful that we refuse to admit we need God’s help? What is it that makes us so stubborn that we refuse to accept the gentle yoke of Jesus Christ?
There’s a story told of the one-time heavyweight boxing champion of the world, Muhammad Ali, flying to one of his engagements. During the flight the aircraft ran into foul weather, and mild to moderate turbulence began to toss it about. The passengers were accordingly instructed to fasten their seatbelts immediately. Everyone complied but Ali. Noticing this, the flight attendant approached him and requested that he observe the captain’s order, only to hear Ali audaciously respond, “Superman don’t need no seatbelt.” The flight attendant didn’t miss a beat and replied, “Superman don’t need no airplane either.”
Too often we take the same approach and the same attitude. I don’t need any help. I can do it on my own. I’m just fine. There were many who lived during the days of Jesus Christ who thought the same thing. They understood how to relate to God. They didn’t want to hear about a new covenant. They already knew about “truth.”
When we’re in the midst of pain and suffering, so much of what causes us hurt, is not understanding. Many times the question we ask is “Why?” The Duprey family has asked that very same question. At a time when their daughter should have been enjoying some of the best years of her life, she was being ushered in and out of hospitals looking for a cure. Why? Alison was dealing with chemotherapy at a time when a young lady should be gaining her independence and loving life. Why? Looking around this room, I doubt anyone here has not felt the painful echo of asking why.
Searching for the truth and seeking answers can be exhausting, which is why Christ beckons each one of us, “Come unto me all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens. I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls.”
Children have never been bashful about coming up to mom or dad and saying, “I’m tired, hold me.” Our children teach us a great lesson when they crawl up in our laps, seeking the refuge that comes from being cradled in mom’s arms. We should learn from them, “Hold me Jesus, for I’m shaking like a leaf. You have been king of my glory, won’t you be my prince of peace.”
A pharmaceutical plant exploded less than two miles from my parent’s home this past week. The community of Kinston, NC has been shaken to its core as it seeks to recover from this tragedy and find answers. “Hold Me Jesus.”
Our sons and daughters and mothers and fathers are being called up into active military service and being shipped all over the world. “Hold Me Jesus.” Our nation and in particular seven families suffered an unexplainable tragedy when the spaceship Columbia disintegrated. “Hold Me Jesus”
Members of our families are fighting cancer and heart disease. “Hold Me Jesus.” We’re facing decisions about careers. “Hold Me Jesus.” We’re trying to repair relationships with spouses. “Hold Me Jesus.” We’re grieving the death of loved ones who died four days ago and four years ago. “Hold Me Jesus.”
We’re searching for truth. We’re looking for peace. We’re in need of God’s guidance. Eugene Peterson translates Jesus’ words this way, “Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. Those same mountains that seem so big are the same mountains that in our call to worship our psalmist looked to in our call to worship seeking hope. “Hold me Jesus, for I’m shaking like a leaf, you have been king of my glory, won’t you be my prince of peace.” Amen
