I slammed
my bedroom door and leaned against it. Was there no rest
from this life? 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 wakeup!"
With a
deep sob, I tried to will myself into oblivion, then welcomed
the blackness that came over me.
Light
surrounded me as I regained consciousness. Focused
on its source: the figure of a man standing before a
cross.
"My
child," the person asked, "why do you want to come
to Me before I am ready to call you?"
"Lord,
I'm sorry. It's just that. . .that I can't go on.
You see how hard it is for me. Look at this awful burden
on my back. I simply can't carry it anymore."
"But
haven't I told you to cast all of your burdens on 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 at His feet. "You may try any of
these."
All of
them seemed to be of equal size, and each was labeled with a
name.
"There's
Joan's," I said. Joan was married to a wetitlehy
business man. 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 when my car was broken.
"Let
me try that one." How difficult could her burden
be? I thought.
The Lord
removed my burden and placed Joan's on my shoulders. I
sank to my knees beneath its weight.
"Oh,
take it off quickly! What makes it so heavy?"
"Look
inside."
I untied
the straps and opened the top. Inside was the figure of
her mother-in-law, and when I lifted it out it began to speak.
"Joan
you'll never be good enough for my son. 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, Joan's youngest daughter. Her head was
bandaged from the surgery that had failed to cure her
epilepsy.
A third
figure was Joan's brother. Addicted to drugs, he had
been convicted of killing a police officer.
"I
see why her burden is so heavy, Lord. But she's always
smiling and helping others. I didn't realize. . ."
"Would
you like to try another?" He asked quietly.
I tested
several. Paula's felt heavy. She was raising four
small boys without a father. Debra's did too; a
childhood of sexual abuse and a marriage of emotional
abuse. When I came to Ruth's burden, I didn't even
try. I knew that inside were arthritis, old age, a
demanding full time job, and a beloved husband in a nursing
home.
"They're
all to heavy, Lord. Give me back my own." As
I lifted the familiar load once again it seemed much lighter
than the others. "Let's look inside," He said.
I turned
away, holding it close. "That's not a very good
idea."
"Why?"
"There's
a lot of junk in here."
"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 suffer 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 take them to the doctor. They've
never been to a 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 hetitlehy bodies. And 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?"
"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, if you will trust Me, I will renew your strength.
If you allow Me to fill you with My Spirit, I will give you
patience."
Then He
took some pebbles from my burden.
"Yes,
Lord, these are small. But they are important. 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
overweight and can't stay on a diet. I hate all my
clothes. I hate the way I look."
"My
child, people look at your outward appearance, but I look at
your heart. By My Spirit, you can gain self-control to
lose weight. But your beauty should not come from
outward appearance. 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 burden
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 an ugly wound.
"But,
Lord this brick is so awful, so nasty, so. . .Lord! What
happened to Your hands? They're scarred!"
No longer
focused on my burden, I looked up for the first time into his
face. On His brow were ragged scars - as though someone
had pressed thorns into his flesh.
"Lord,"
I whispered, "what happened to You?"
His loving
eyes reached 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 me the
brick." I placed the filthy brick into His wounded
palm. It contained all the dirt and evil of my
life: my sins, 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 must go back. I will be with you
always. When you are troubled, call to Me and I will
help you and show you things that you cannot imagine
now."
"Yes,
Lord I will call on You."
I reached
down to pick up my burden.
"You
may leave that here if you wish. You see all these
burdens? They are the ones that others have left here at
my feet. Joan's, Paula's, Debra's, and Ruth's, and many
others. When you leave your burden here, I carry it with
you. Remember My yoke is easy and My burden is
light."
As I
placed my burden with Him, the light begin to fade. Yet
I heard Him whisper, "I will never leave you nor forsake
you."
A peace
that passed my understanding flooded my soul. I stood
tall and walked back into life.
28 Come
unto me, all [ye] that labour and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest.
29 Take
my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in
heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
30 For my yoke [is] easy, and my burden is light.
Matthew
11:28-30
© 1993
Louise M. Gouge
All Rights
reserved. Used with permission.
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Jimmy Swaggert
In The Shelter Of His Arms
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