I’ve been reflecting on what it means to rest in God–to rest in being His beloved, to find rest for my soul as Jesus promised in Matthew 11 when He said, “Come to me, you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
That sounds like music to my soul, but the next sentence tends to jar my sense of peace: Take My yoke upon you. There’s nothing about a yoke that seems restful to me. In fact, the idea of resting and trusting seems to be the opposite of wearing a yoke. In my mind, a yoke chafes, to bumps, it constrains. It seems painful, tiresome, relentless.
But that is not what a yoke is meant to be:
“A yoke, in ancient Palestine, was made of wood, handmade to fit perfectly to the neck and shoulders of the oxen to prevent cutting and chafing.” [Pete Scazzero in Emotionally Healthy Spirituality]
Or, as Jesus puts it in John 15: “Remain in my love.”
I need to remember that the choice is not between having a yoke or having no yoke at all. There is no yoke-free life. Whatever track I am following is a yoke of sorts. And though other paths may seem pleasant at the time, there is only one directing me to my ultimate best. Jesus wants to bring me home and I can trust that the yoke He gives is going to be a good fit for me, a yoke of grace, love, forgiveness, comfort, shelter–and yes, rest.
I’ve seen this in action. I’ve had the privilege of knowing saints who have taken the yoke of Jesus, and they are the lightest and most rested people I know. Their lives are full of peace and joy. They may experience trouble on every side, but they aren’t crushed; they may be perplexed, but they aren’t driven to despair; they may be knocked down, but they aren’t destroyed. They carry in their bodies the death of Jesus, but the life of Jesus is also visible in them, full of grace and truth.
They are able to rest in a storm, like Jesus sleeping on the boat in Mark 4:37-38. A furious squall came up and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. At rest.