“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.”  Matthew 11:27-29

Do you ever wake up sad?  A few days ago I woke up feeling this strange sense that I had spent the entire night crying.  I was weary.  I then remembered that my dreams were laden with memories of people and the love they once provided that has since vanished.  I woke up into a general sense that my life was incomplete, that there was something to mourn.  Anniversary grief does that to me.  It’s like jumping into a car on February 1st knowing the destination is February 25th but the scenic route to getting there is the rehearsal of lifetime of losses.  The grief of Anna is stored in a memory container that holds many other experiences of loss as well.

So freshly triggered in this sense of sadness I prayed, “Jesus I need you” and quickly the words came, “Not by bread alone.”

I ran downstairs, turned on my computer, headed straight for bible gateway and typed in the phrase I had just received.  The same words were first spoken to the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness upon their exodus from Egypt:

“He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your ancestors had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord. (Deuteronomy 8:2-4)

I thought to myself, “I too am in the wilderness…I am hungering…WORDS of GOD…food.”

I then came across Matthew 4:4:

“Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.  After fasting forty days and forty nights, He was hungry.  The tempter came to Him and said, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’”

I thought to myself… “Jesus too was in the wilderness…Jesus hungered…WORDS of GOD…food.”

The wilderness experience was nothing new; first the Israelites, then Jesus Christ, now me.  We all have wandered in the wilderness, weak and vulnerable.  These conclusions quickly enumerated themselves in my mind.

1.  God wants to teach me that His words will give me sustenance in the wilderness of my grief.  His words alone can satisfy me.

2. God wants to teach me that the wilderness is a place where the tempter will come and that truth is the way to fight the lies and temptations of the enemy.

And so I prayed, “Lord what is the manna you have for me?  What words will you provide to be my food on this particular day in big, bad, February?”  Instantly my mind was filled with two cherished scriptures:

“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.” (Matthew 11:27-29)

And secondly,

“Then you shall know the truth and the truth will make you free.” (John 8:32)

And there I was, in the tent, sprawled out under the phrases which were so beautifully scripted above me.  I saw myself laying there on my back, hands folded behind my head, looking up at them as you would the stars on a clear, bright night, admiring their splendor.  I smiled at the arched sentences remembering how they came to be shelter for me in the first place.  Each of these scriptures identifies a way by which to approach Jesus with our pain.  In some instances we will call on the Burden Bearer, the One who will simply lift our burdens and replace them with rest.  And in some instances we will call on the Bearer of Truth, the One who will replace pain derived from lies and give us truth that will yield freedom.  In order to give each scripture the attention it deserves, I am going to share my thoughts and experiences with Matthew 11:27-29 today and will write regarding John 8:32 later this week.

The Burden Bearer

It was a bad day, one I always tried to avoid.  It was about six months after the loss of Anna and I was alone.  Chris and I tried desperately hard to avoid these occasions.  We always felt safest when we were together.  I sat in Anna’s nursery, which was unfathomable to disassemble, and began hyperventilating.  These were the moments when Chris’s words “Breathe Kate, breathe” and his touch, were magical medicine.  But now he was gone and I was afraid this particular panic attack may be the end of me.  Who would reassure me, who would comfort me in his absence?

I’d had a recent conversation with my therapist where he’d encouraged me to call on Jesus and to ask him to bear my burden, to take the pain from me in these moments.  He had explained that pain falls into two categories.  True based pain surmounts from things like, disappointment, and grief.  They are true realities where the only remedy can be for Jesus to come and be the “Burden Bearer.” The second category is lie based pain, pain that surmounts from certain untruths we believe.  This is where the “Bearer of Truth” is needed.

My therapist was concerned that I was holding onto pain that could be alleviated if I would take Jesus up on His offer: “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.”  The thought of asking God to take my burden was completely undesirable to me.  Comfort me, yes!  Give me peace and strength to endure, yes!  But take my burden…NO!  The pain acquainted me with the depth of my loss and the enormous vacancy Anna had left in my life.  What would I be saying if I asked God to take away the very thing that reinforced my love for her?  Would asking God to take the pain mean I was also ready to move on?  That was unthinkable.  The presence of the pain existed right along side of my love and desperation for her.  And so if being consumed with her meant pain, I would just need to be tougher.  No burden would be taken from me!

But in this particular moment sunken down on the floor, hyperventilating by the empty crib, desperation overcame my strange need for the pain and I cried out,

“Jesus, help me.  Jesus I need you.  Jesus, take this pain from me.”  And as soon as the plea passed my lips, my eyes were once again opened to the face, the actual presence of Jesus.  Just inches from me, He cupped my face in His hands and proclaimed, “Sweetie, don’t you know, I’m going to take the pain, not the love.”
And with that the entire room as well as my heart and mind were infiltrated by a peace so pervasive and so substantial it seemed as though I should be able to hold it.  I sat there for a moment, eyes fixed on Jesus, His words being massaged into the core of me.  When I opened my eyes I knew I had just experienced a manageable and supernatural way to be in relationship with grief.  I had just met the Burden Bearer.
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” This scripture I had known for years seemed to lift from the pages of Matthew and wrap itself like a band-aid around my wounded heart.  Love for Anna free from the pain was a supernatural recipe I knew only Jesus could give…and I wanted it bad!

Grief is an undeniable gut wrenching sadness.  Well meaning people often say lots of things to soften the blow and take the edge off.  The goal here is fixing the unfixable.  Being able to offer a remedy to alleviate the pain, turning death on its head so the griever can conclude, “Oh, well then, now I get it.  This isn’t so bad…everything happens for a reason…now I feel better.”  These phrases are born out of desperation, and I get it because I used to say such things from a heart of deep love.  If you have grieved then you know what I’m talking about.  We learn to grin and bear it while thinking internally (if we can stand it), “That wasn’t helpful and I know you mean well but, go fly a kite!”  The beautiful thing about Jesus and grief is that He doesn’t try to explain it away or talk us into believing that the loss is somehow in and of itself good.  Yes He can turn it for good and I have watched Him do that very thing in my life, but death is just plain sad.  That is why Jesus was able to weep at the death of Lazarus.  He was God! He knew that in a matter of moments He would be giving his friend LIFE again.  But in that moment, death was sad and He knew it, He felt it and He wept.  Jesus, knowing the enormity of the weight of grief, doesn’t try to “fix it.” He instead lifts it, literally takes it off our hearts in order that we might be able to take a breather, In order that we might be able to rest.  Jesus is the only one that can do this.  So as February dawns on me I am comforted that Jesus doesn’t scold me for feeling the sadness yet once again, or give me a death pep-talk.  But rather He just asks if He can do what He does best and bear my burden.

This particular sad morning in February was tempting me to believe that I should stand in fear of the days ahead as inevitable sadness awaits me.  But as I lay in the tent, looking up at the arched words above me, I am at peace because I can hear the whisper of Jesus inviting me once again, “Come to me Kate…let me give you rest.” My job is simply the coming.  I know that in every moment where the pain creeps in, I can call on the name of Jesus and be saved.  Is it a little strange that I now have a bit of excitement for the harder days ahead knowing I will meet the Savior in my desperation, knowing I can and will experience the magnificence of the Burden Bearer?

Does the thought of being in love with your lost one but exempt from unnecessary burdens (whatever they may be) appeal to you?  There is space inside this tent for you too.  Jesus wants you to know He will take the pain and not the love.  The love you have for your beloved dead will not be lessened by calling on the presence of the Burden Bearer.  Moving forward is not giving up.  Letting go does not mean that the significance of the loss, nor the love of the one you grieve, will go anywhere but deeper in your heart.  Jesus created that person, He is preserving that person and that relationship is waiting for you in a place called Redemption.  Asking for the pain to be lifted will not take away that which Jesus is literally bursting to restore to us.

I am full…this particular manna was a good meal for me.  I had begun to fear that I was headed for immeasurable amounts of knock-down-drag-out, all consuming, inconsolable sadness.  I had momentarily forgotten about the nature and character of my Savior.  But now I’m okay.  I’ve crawled in the tent and I know that when the sadness does come knocking again, that rest and peace is right behind it.  They are waiting in the hands of my Burden Bearer and he loves to make trades.
So let me ask you?  Is there a burden that is weighing you down, causing you to feel pain and to weep?  Are you holding on for some reason?  Are you buying into the lie that to let go will cost you something?  When Jesus comes into our dark night, the only result can be greater peace, greater rest and truer freedom than we have ever known.  Be courageous to discover why you might be hesitant to ask for His help…and join me in the tent.  You may have to ask over and over, but becoming familiar with the One who bears our burdens is a routine that will not leave you disappointed.

This is a good moment, lying here in the tent, eyes closed, listening to the words of Jesus that almost sing above me…I am at rest.  It is February, I miss Anna with absolute desperation, but in this moment, I am at rest!