Matthew 11: 28 – 30 28 Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are
weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my
yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and
you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy to bear,
and the burden I give you is light.”
"I like that, Dad." I remember those words. It's
like they were said to me yesterday.
Actually, they take me all the way back to the late 1970s.
In '71, Cynthia and I moved our family (four children, ages 1 through 10) from
a sleepy, casual bedroom community outside Dallas, Texas, to rapidly growing
Orange County in Southern California. Almost before we knew it, we had entered
the fast-lane life of the West Coast, doing our best to keep up. As time
passed, we found ourselves doing double-time driving freeways, leading an
expanding church with a multi-person staff, hauling busy kids to and from
school, mixed with holidays and birthday celebrations, sleepovers, and endless
ball games. My publishing world had suddenly exploded, which resulted in too
many trips around the country and not enough down time to rest my spirit and
calm my nerves and be with those I loved the most.
Mother's Day was fast approaching, so my older son and I
dropped into the local Hallmark store to find a nice card for Cynthia. As I
thumbed through numerous Mother's Day cards, he wandered back to the section
where the posters were displayed. Before long he asked me to join him. He was
standing before a large poster portraying a serene scene. A well-worn fishing
boat was out on a lake. It was early dawn, with the sun peeking over the
horizon. Its warm rays reached across a deep blue-gray sky wrapped in lacy
white clouds. Two thin lines were in the water—one hanging from a pole held by
a father, sitting in the back by a little outboard motor, and the other held by
his son, sitting at the other end. Their corks made gentle ripples on the
water's glassy surface. You could feel the closeness. You could hear the
easygoing conversation as father and son savored the morning together.
Two simple words appeared at the bottom of the poster. They
stung as I read them:
TAKE TIME.
"I like that, Dad," said Curt. I reached an arm
around the broadening shoulders of my growing-up teenaged son, looked at him,
and then looked again at the poster. "I do, too, son . . . I do,
too." He didn't want to buy it. I realized he simply wanted me to see it.
To think about it. I did. In fact, it was a needed wake-up call to this
too-busy dad, whose son had hurriedly come into the store looking for something
to buy for his mother, but who left slowly, far more concerned about his dad.
How easy it is for you and me to get caught up in a
"hurry-worry sindrome," doing too much, driving too fast, eating
too quickly, juggling too many things. It all seems ultra-important at the
moment—but later we realize much was done at the expense of cultivating deeper
and more meaningful relationships with those we love the most. Being held
hostage by the tyranny of the urgent is not how we were meant to live.
Knowing how prone we are to this, Jesus offered a very
sincere and gracious invitation. You may have read it before . . . but this
time, linger over it. Turn the words over in your mind; let them seep in.
"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, 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)
I suggest you accept Jesus's invitation—today. Come to Him.
Tell Him how weary and over-burdened you are. Pull that heavy backpack loaded
with all your stuff off your shoulders and drop it at His feet. Do it now. Then
enter into His rest. Relax for a change—take an extra several minutes to enjoy
His presence . . . embrace His peace. Before you turn in tonight, curl up
alongside those who mean the most to you and tell them how much you love them,
how valuable they are to you.
TAKE TIME.
Thought for today:
Is my prayer life rushed and cursory?
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