Why Carry The Burden Alone?

We come to God for a lot of things, but almost never to thank Him. We rarely come to Him to give thanks for all He's provided, or to tell Him about the good things happening in our lives because of His grace and mercy. When was the last time you came to God and said, "Things are going great. Just paid off the car, our daughter graduated college, the new puppy is finally housebroken." I can't remember the last time I said something like that to God. Maybe I'm not alone there.

The main reason we come to God is to tell Him our lives aren't going the way we planned. Things go from bad to worse, and just when we think they can't get any worse, they do. At our wits' end, out of ideas, we turn to God.

If we came to God at the start of our problems instead of waiting until we're desperate, we'd find a solution sooner and rest a lot sooner too. The key is to walk through our trials with God instead of bringing them to Him only after they've become unbearable. No problem is too small or too great for Him. He created the universe by speaking a word. There's nothing God cannot resolve for the good of those who love Him, Romans 8:28.

We all know the moment things start going wrong. Something doesn't feel right, or we get a pang of insecurity about a decision, a word we said to someone, a relationship that used to feel clear and now feels blurry. Whatever the signs are, we recognize them. That's the moment to run to the Lord, not after we've exhausted every other option.

Sometimes we drag our burdens to the Lord because they're too heavy to carry any other way. Sometimes we have to force ourselves out of bed just to bend our knees in prayer. And sometimes the burden is so heavy, financial, health related, relational, that we can't move. But even if all we can do is part our lips the slightest bit and whisper, "Help," He hears us.

His promise is rest. Not that He'll immediately fix the problem, heal the disease, or restore the marriage. He gives us something only He can give: rest. When we come to Jesus with our concerns, we rest in His presence, knowing we've come to the only one who can actually help. There's no better place to be in a storm than with the one who can calm a raging sea. Jesus is asleep in the boat, the storm is about to sink it, the disciples wake Him in a panic, and He turns to the sea and says, "Peace, be still," Mark 4:39. That's the same Jesus we come to today.

This is what Matthew 11:28-30 is about. Jesus says, "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
Jesus is telling us to be yoked to Him, to let Him lead and do the heavy lifting. Our burden gets lighter because He's taken it on Himself. We're not doing the work alone. We're being guided through it.

There's an old bull out in the field. He's plowed this same ground for years. He knows every rock and every low spot and doesn't have to think about it anymore.
One day the farmer brings home a young bull, brand new, full of energy, who's never plowed a furrow in his life. The farmer turns him loose in the field.

The young bull takes off running, doesn't matter which direction, he just wants to go. He zigzags all over the field. The old bull watches him for a minute and mutters, "Here we go again."

The young bull decides he'll figure it out himself. He puts his head down, jams his nose in the dirt, and thinks that's how you cut a furrow. Ten minutes later he's exhausted, covered in mud, and hasn't plowed a straight line the whole time. He stands there thinking, "I can't do this. I don't even know how to start."

That's when the farmer walks over and hooks him up right next to the old bull. Same yoke, one on each side. The old bull looks over and says, "Watch me, son. Watch how it's done."

And they go. The old bull sets the pace, holds the line, and the young bull just has to stay in step. Before the sun goes down, the whole field is plowed. The young bull didn't figure it out on his own. He stayed yoked to the one who already knew the way.

That's the picture in verse twenty-nine. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. Not figure it out next to me. Learn from me. The young bull wasn't strong enough or smart enough to plow that field alone, and neither are we. We're yoked to somebody who already knows the ground.
But it doesn't stop there. That young bull is going to get old someday. He's going to know every rock and every low spot just like the old bull did. And when the farmer brings home the next young one, guess who gets yoked up next to him. He'll say the same words that were said to him: "Watch me, son. Watch how it's done."

That's discipleship. Somebody older, further down the road, teaching somebody younger, because somebody even older taught him first. Nobody plows that field alone, and nobody stays young forever. Sooner or later, you're the old bull, and it's your turn to say those words to somebody else.

None of that happens unless you were yoked to Christ first. You can't teach somebody to trust the yoke if you never let Him carry your own load. The rest He gave you when your burden was too heavy is the same rest you now hand off to somebody else struggling under theirs. You come to Him with the problem you can't solve. He takes the lead. And because you let Him, you become the old bull in somebody else's field.