Why Unburdened?

It was the summer of 2020 and I, like so many others, felt shaken from the chaos and disappointments of the early Covid pandemic. The spring of 2020 was supposed to be a capstone season for me, as a mother and on several personal levels. Both my oldest son and I were positioned to graduate (which we both did, albeit from home) he from high school and me from graduate school. In addition, his championship basketball team was ever so close to a repeat state title. A tournament that never took place because the shutdown of our schools and all school activities happened the day the state tournament was set to begin. Part of our celebration season also included a special trip for me, my husband, and my son (in honor of our graduations) to South Africa, scheduled the third week of April. We even booked a safari and shark diving! But it never happened. These highlights represent the tip of the iceberg of my expected celebrations that spring. I had prepared and hoped for so much. And day-by-day, cancellation after cancellation, my heart sank as so many dreams went unrealized.

The disappointments and frustrations only served to compound other struggles present in my life at the time. I had been looking forward to this season of celebration for years. After pouring myself out – working with my husband in our small business, taking care of my family, serving in ministry and grinding my way through college for more than 10 years – I wasn’t just ready for a time of rest and celebration, I needed it! It was supposed to be a moment where I could actually savor the fruits of my labor and feel some freedom from the heavy load I perpetually carried. I was finally going to get some fun and enjoyment. Dreaming about it helped push me through the last grueling phases of thesis writing. But with every cancellation I watched “fun” and “rest” and “celebration” disappear. I utterly spent myself to get to a party that no longer existed. In that place of disappointment, the years of tiredness finally caught up with me. I slid into auto-pilot and functional depression. Even though I fought with myself constantly, trying to find gratitude and joy wherever I could, I struggled to keep joy and hope alive inside me. 

In July, our family made a group decision to get out into the world and enjoy a vacation, at whatever level we could. We all knew and felt our family changing, our oldest would leave for college that fall, and we felt a strong desire to fight for one last family adventure before the big shift. We took a road trip to the ocean – a two-day drive – and enjoyed some beautiful sunshine, swimming, and the kind of outdoor activities we love to do together. It was beautiful and a memory I cherish dearly.

It was also in that place, away from home and the disappointments and fear, where Jesus surprised me. In my vacation reading and beach-side quiet time, He began speaking to me with overwhelming peace and reassurance. Scriptures pulsated with life as He drew me from one verse to another. He encouraged me to grieve, to allow the emotions to flow out, but also to look for hope in the future. He stirred my heart towards specific lifestyle changes (including a break from social media that lasted several months) and other ways to rearrange my time and feed my soul. One specific passage of Scripture stood out above all the others and felt like a beacon of hope to my heart, Matthew 11:28-30. It reads:

Are you weary, carrying a heavy burden? Then come to me. I will refresh your life, for I am your oasis. Simply join your life with mine. Learn my ways and you’ll discover that I am gentle, humble, easy to please. You will find refreshment and rest in me. For all that I require of you will be pleasant and easy to bear. (TPT)

I read these words over and over again, coaxing my mind to imagine what it would feel like to be refreshed, to feel rested and like the weight that I carry could be pleasant and easy to bear. Initially, the paradigm felt entirely foreign to me.

The problem for me was my value set; or how I prioritized virtues in my life. You see, I come from a working-class heritage. I was born into families filled with incredibly hard-working laborers – farmers, craftsmen, etc. – men and women alike. Out of necessity, the virtue of hard work, of pushing one’s self mentally and physically, became the standard of maturity and responsibility. Laziness doesn’t just prevent you from getting ahead in life, it could result in serious suffering for you and your family. As a result, driving yourself to the edge, to the brink of exhaustion every day is something to be applauded and celebrated. It matters most. And I must confess, when I consider my immediate and extended family members, I am in awe of how hard so many of them work, and the hardships they’ve worked through. It inspires. I come from hearty stock. I feel it in my bones and there is strength that resonates inside of me. It is a beautiful inheritance and, for that, I am incredibly grateful.

However, this unrelenting drive to spend myself entirely by the end of each day to prove my virtue and value created its own set of problems. I felt guilty resting, especially if there was work to be done. I constantly assured myself I could do more, accomplish more, carry more, because I still had more in me, I still had something left to give. I rehearsed mantras like, “I am capable; I am strong; I’ve got this” over and over throughout my days, when what I really wanted to do was crawl in bed and take turns crying and sleeping for two weeks at a time. If you saw the finished “to-do” lists from the last fifteen years, you would see the level of lunacy I talked myself into. All the while I assured myself it was the right thing to do. I was a good mom, a good wife, a good friend, a good student, a good pastor … a “good” fill in the blank. Which all made me, I thought, a successful Christian woman.

But God.

When Jesus took me to His words in Matthew, I understood He wasn’t just offering me rest and refreshing (something I desperately needed) He was inviting me into a new way of living. I am still learning how to navigate this new way. And like so many timely, profound promises from God, this one has and continues to be tested. Life is full of stress, hardship, grief and pain more now than it was when He first drew me to this Truth. These “burdens” don’t magically become “pleasant and easy to bear” because I want them to. But living an unburdened life doesn’t mean a life without trouble^[1]. Rather, it means living with a heart that is light even when life is heavy, because I am nestled in the care of a God who knows me, sees me, and loves me just as I am. No performance necessary. I have nothing to prove, because His virtue and righteousness covers me. Which also means that His grace and rest are always accessible. There is always a solution. There is always hope. And in that Truth, I find refreshment and rest for my soul.

The Unburdened Soul is a declaration of who I am becoming; of an inner reality growing inside of me. It’s based on a promise Jesus makes to me and anyone who is willing to join their life with His and learn His ways. I am no longer striving to be a “good” anything, let alone Christian. Instead, I’m learning to relax and flow with the rhythms of life in the safety of a relationship with a God who is “gentle, humble,” and “easy to please.”                           

---

^[1] John 16:33