Second Wednesday of Advent - December 12, 2018

The Weariness of Misplaced Trust

Isaiah 40:25-31
Matthew 11:28-30


Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint. (Isa. 40:28-31)


“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. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matt. 11:28-30)


In Isaiah's time, the hope for a savior was tied to political systems and empires. The people waited for God to raise up another king like David. Of course, governments and political systems have no power to "save"; rather, they seem to specialize in self-interest and in burdening their citizens. It is that very weariness to which Isaiah spoke, the assurance that God does not grow faint or weary . . . that those who hope in God's present and future will renew their strength, soar like eagles, not grow weary or faint.

Of course, Isaiah's day was not alone in trusting political or governmental solutions for complex human need. A vast part of the U.S. electorate voted in 2016 hoping their candidate would usher America back to some elusive past greatness, seeking political solutions to myriad social issues. And this approach was largely supported by huge coalitions of Christians who claim to trust God alone for salvation.

In the years since 2016, another segment of the electorate has sought to use political means to restore order to a chaotic government, believing that well-being will come through more elections and appointments.

Though political means represent the way our current system is set up, both groups are delusional, especially those who advocate that one party or the other holds the keys to happiness and well-being. Trusting political systems to grant even a semblance of salvation is idolatry, and idolatry held so closely is burdensome.

The Advent texts today invite us to take up another way, to yoke ourselves to Christ, to turn from frantic anxiety and weariness to One whose yoke is easy and burden is light.

This is how The Message says it:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me — watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matt. 11:28-30, The Message)


For Reflection:

Sit with Matthew 11:28-30 in The Message. Let it speak to you. What do you hear? What invitations from Jesus stir your heart?

What Rest?

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matt. 11:28)

I was particularly sensitive to Jesus' words in Matthew 11:28 when I read them a couple of days ago. They caught my attention on the long end of a stretch in which I've dealt with health issues that brought several weeks of lean sleep.

Ahhh, but to be able to sleep again. Rest, sweet rest.

In my naivete', I've supposed that this was the rest Jesus promises. Rest. Sleep. A pause from the demands of work. Respite from the constant houndings of daily life. A moment free from "forced" creativity. Eight hours of non-interrupted REM sleep.

But when I read the passage this time, I asked some other questions of this rest.

What is the rest Jesus gives? Is is rest from physical exhaustion? Is it emotional rest? Is it rest from carrying the burdens others place upon me? Is it rest from health concerns?

And I began to consider other kinds of rest . . . rest from trying to control everyone else around me . . . rest from being attached to outcomes . . . rest from worry about things I cannot control . . . and rest from the control I try to exert over the way things turn out, that they should look the way I want them to look. . . .

Is it rest from my compulsions?
Is it rest from my attachment to security?
Is it rest from my attachment to good health?
Is it rest from my attachment to comfort?

I realize that so much anxiety and worry comes when any of these things are thwarted, when my attachment to them is threatened. Truly, the anxiety and worry represent "no rest", no sense of well-being. They are wearisome, draining, exhausting, pulling out my interior resources, spending energy on that over which I usually have little control.

For this season of my life, I sense that rest is not getting plenty of sleep. As always, I reserve the right to change my mind about these things . . . but for today, rest looks more like letting go of compulsions and releasing attachments.

My experience has been that only in the context of a vertical, Divine-human, I-Thou relationship, do I recognize these compulsions and attachments. The contemplative journey gives me the space to see myself more and more clearly, to see what is more true about myself, and to name the compulsions and attachments which are illusory.

Further, it gives me some language -- even if limited -- to speak to these compulsions and attachments. And it gives me some practices that are well-suited for breaking up the hardened soil of the attachments in order that I might live more freely for good and healing in the world.

Jesus, it would seem to me, is much more invested in this kind of liberating rest that heals me and heals the world than in my prospects for getting a good, eight hour sleep.