"Why was my burden so heavy?" I slammed the bedroom door and leaned against it. Is there no rest from this life? I wondered. I stumbled to my bed and dropped onto it, pressing my pillow around my ears to shut out the noise of my existence.
"Oh God," I cried, "let me sleep. Let me sleep forever and never wake up!" With a deep sob I tried to will myself into oblivion, then welcomed the blackness tha came over me. Light surrounded me as I regained consciouseness. I focused on its source: the figure of a man standing before a cross.
"My child," the person asked, "why did you want to come to me before I am ready to call you?"
"Lord, I'm sorry. It's just that... I can't go on. You see how hard it is for me. Look at this awful burden on my back. Isimply can't carry it anymore."
"But haven't I told you to cast all of your burdens upon Me because I care for you? My yoke is easy and, My burden is light."
"I knew You would say that. But why does mine have to be so heavy?"
"My child, everyone in the world has a burden. Perhaps you would like to try a different one?"
"I can do that?" He pointed to several burdens lying at His feet. "you may try any of these." All o fthem seemed to be of equal size. But each was labeled with a name.
"There's Joan's, "I said. Joan was married to a wealth businessman. She lived in a sprawling estate and dressed her three daughters in the prettiest designer clothes. Sometimes she drove me to church in her Cadillac whn my car was broken.
"Let me try that one." How difficult could her brden be? I thought. The Lord removed my burden and placed Joan's on my shoulders. I sank to my knees beneath its weight.
"Take it off!" I said. "What makes it so heavy?"
"Look inside." I untied the straps and opened the to. Inside was a figure of her Mother-in-law, and when I lfted it out, it bagan to speak, "Joan, you'll never be good enough for my son," it began. "He never should have married you. You're a terrible mother to my grandchildren..."
I quickly placed the figure back in the pack and withdrew another. It was Donna, Joans's youngest daughter. Her head was bandaged from the surgery that had failed to resolve her epilepsy. atherd figure was Joan's brother. Addicted to drugs, he had been convicted of killing a police officer.
"I see whhy her burden is so heavy, Lord. But shee's always smiling and helping others. I didn't realize..."
"Would you like to try another?" He asked quietly. I tested several. Paula's gelt heavy: She was raisinng four small boys without aa father. Debra's did too: a childhood of sexual abuse adn a marriage of emotional abuse. When I came to Ruth's burden, I didn't even try. I knew that inside I would find arthritis, old age, a demanding full-time job, and a beloved husband in a nursing home.
"They're all too heavy, Lord," I said. " Give back my own." As I lifted the familiar load once again, it seemed much lighter than the others.
"Lets look inside" He said. I turned away, holding it close.
"That's not a good idea," I said.
"Why?"
"There's a lot of junk in there."
"Let Me see." The gentle thunder of His voice compelled me. I opened my burden. He pulled out a brick. "Tell me about this one."
"Lord, You know. It's money. I know we don't ssuffer like people in some countries or even the homeless here in America. But we have no insurance, and when the kids get sick, we can't always takke them to the doctor. they've never been to aa dentist. And I'm tired of dressing them in hand-me-downs."
"My child, I will supply all of your needs... and your children's. I've given them healthy bodies. I will teach them that expensive clothing doesn't make a person valuable in My sight." Then He lifted out the figure of a small boy, "And this?" He asked.
"Andrew..." I hung my head, ashamed to call my son a burden. "But, Lord, he's hyperactive. He's not quiet like the other two. He makes me so tired. He's always getting hurt, and someone is bound to think I abuse him. I yell at him all the time. Someday I may really hurt him..."
"My child," He said, "if you trust Me, I will renew your strength,m If you allow me to fill with My Spirit, I will give you patience." Then He took some pebbles from my burden.
"Yes, Lord," I said with a sigh. "Those are small. But they're importan. I hate my hair. It's thin, and I can't make it look nice. I can't afford to go to the beauty shop. I'm over weight and can't stay on a diet. I hate all my clotes. I hate the way I look!"
"My child, people look at your woutward appearance, but I look at your heart. By My Spirit you can gain self-control to lose weight. But your bearty should not come from outward appearance. Instead, it should come from your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in My sight." My burdn seemed lighter than before.
"I guess I can handle it now," I said.
"There is more," He said. "Hand Me that last brick."
"Oh, You don't have to take that. I can handle it."
"My child, give it to Me." Again His voice compelled me He reached out His hand, and for the first time I saw the ugly wound.
"But, Lord this bric is so qwful, so nast, so... Lord! What happened to Your hands? They're so scarred!" No longer focused on my burden, I looked for the first time into His face. In His brow were ragged scars--as though someone had pressed throns into His flesh. "Lord," I wispered. "What happened to You?" His loving eyes reache into my soul.
"My child, you know. Hand Me the brick. It belongs to Me. I bought it."
"How?"
"With My blood."
"But why, Lord?"
"Because I have loved you with an everlasting love. Give it to Me."
I placed the filthy brick into His woundes palm. It contained all the dirt and evil of my life: my pride, my selfishness, the depression that constantly tormented me. He turned to the cross and hurled my brick into the pool of blood at its base. It hardly made a ripple.
"Now, My child you need to go back. I will be with you always. When you are troubled, call to Me and I will help you and show you thing you cannot imagine now."
"Yes, Lord, I will call on you." I reached to pick up my burden.
"You may leave that heare if you wish. You see all these burdens? They are the ones that others have left at My feet. Joan's, Paula's, Debra's, Ruth's... When you leave your burden here, I carry it with you. Remember, My yoke is easy and My burden is light." As I place my burden with Him, the light began to fade. Yet I heard Him whisper, "I will never leave you, nowr forsake you." A peace floodesmy soul.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you the 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 buden is light."
Matthew 11:28-30
