The
Burden
"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. "Please 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 that came over
me. Light surrounded me as I regained consciousness. 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. I simply 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 of them seemed to be of equal
size. But each was labeled with a name.
"There's Joan's," I said. Joan
was married to a wealthy 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 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. "Take
it off!" I said. "What makes it so heavy?"
"Look inside."
I untied the straps and opened
the top. Inside was a 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," 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 belonged to Donna, Joan's youngest daughter.
Her head was bandaged from the surgery that had failed to resolve 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 was heavy,
too. She had 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 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 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 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 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 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.
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. If you allow Me to fill you with My
Spirit, I will give you patience." He then took some pebbles from my
burden.
"Yes, Lord," I said with a sigh.
"Those are small, but they're 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
appearances. 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 burden now 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."
Once again His voice compelled me. He reached out His hand, and for the first
time I saw the ugly wound.
"But, Lord, this brick is so awful,
so nasty, 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 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 it to Me."
I placed the filthy brick into
His wounded 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 things you cannot imagine now."
"Yes, Lord, I will call on You."
I reached 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
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 placed my burden with Him,
the light began to fade. Yet I heard Him whisper, "I will never leave you,
nor forsake you!"
A peace flooded my soul.
~ Author Unknown ~
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