The Open Door: Jesus’ Welcome For The Burdened

The Open Door: Jesus’ Welcome for the Burdened

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.” (Matthew 11:28–30, NIV)

We’ve gathered today because we cared for, we loved Tyrone. Some of us knew him from way back, long before church was ever on his radar. Some of us came to know him later, as part of this faith community.

All of us feel the weight of his absence. In moments like this, we need words that are honest about how hard life can be, and at the same time full of real hope. That’s why I’ve chosen the words of Jesus from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 11.

Jesus doesn’t say, “Come to me, all you who have your life neatly together.” He doesn’t say, “Come to me, all you who have no doubts, no fears, no qualms, no addictions, no mental health struggles.” He says, “Come to me ALL you who are weary and burdened.”

That’s a wide-open door.

If you knew Tyrone, you know that life was not simple for him. He carried some heavy things—struggles with mental health, struggles with addiction, and all the complicated questions that come with that.

He was not a polished person trying to impress anyone. He was too genuine for that. He never put on airs, never tried to appear more put together than he was.

He WAS a real human being, with real battles, who slowly found his way into a safe place, and he found an embrace and a welcome and arms wide open in his church community at Church at the Mission, and into Dismas, which played a significant part in his journey, as we have heard.

When he first came among us at the church, he didn’t arrive as a convinced believer. He came as someone with deep reservations about religion.

Being a former ardent atheist myself, I fully understood his perspective, and I appreciated that he was forthright with his views. We had many good conversations.

It was clear though in a short time that Tyrone came to love the sense of community at Church at the Mission. He appreciated the welcome, the kindness, the conversations, the feeling that he belonged, even if he wasn’t sure what he believed yet.

Quite early on, Tyrone started to volunteer with William’s team, who are responsible for the set up of the church - the chairs, the PA system, the banners - the overall ambiance of the church.

It’s a busy, very dedicated, and close-knit team. He would come in quite early, chat with William and the rest of the team - Eric, Francis, Tonia and others, and then make a concrete and practical contribution to the life of the Church, as I said, preparing our space to be a sanctuary. He did this for a number of years.

At one point he was asked by my assistant, many years ago, to read the main Scripture during the worship service. He agreed to do so.

He read so well, with such a strong voice, and with such feeling, that for a long while he was the preferred Scripture reader at the church.

It was interesting to watch his face up close as he read and processed what he was reading. I wondered what was happening in his heart as he read the Holy Scriptures.

During the pandemic, when we were not meeting in person, Tyrone joined a weekly online men’s Bible study.

Week after week, he showed up on screen with other men, opening Scripture, listening to people sharing their perspectives on life and on whatever we were studying, asking questions, offering his own thoughtful insights and wrestling with what it all means.

And those of us who were there noticed a quiet but important shift. At the beginning, he would talk about “those Christians” or “you Christians” and “what they believe”—as if faith was something other, something other people did.

Over time, that language began to change. He started to talk about the Christian faith as “us” and “we.” He began to volunteer, slowly and tentatively, “this is what we believe.”

That might sound like a small thing. But it isn’t.

That is the language of someone whose heart is softening, someone who is moving from the outside edge of faith toward the centre, someone who is starting to say, “These might be my people; this might be my Saviour.”

There’s another prayer in the Bible that captures that kind of journey. In Mark’s Gospel, a father says to Jesus: “Lord, I believe; help me overcome my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)