Wrecked at the feet of Jesus, as God tenderly crushed the pride out of me, I was able to hear this gracious invitation with fresh ears for myself:
“Come to me, all who labour 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.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
And I was glad to respond.
These words are now some of the sweetest words to me in all of Scripture. They were strong, kind words that cut through the chaos of my turbulent mind and whispered grace and peace and hope to my weary soul when I really needed them. There are three things about this invitation to particularly consider.
The great news, however, is that if you’re exhausted—you qualify. This invitation is directed at shattered saints like us.
This is not an invitation for the sorted and strong but for the weak and weary.
The passage is not explicit about what the source of this soul weariness is. Could it be sin? Suffering? Temptation? Perhaps just the trials of life?
Given the context of where this appears in Matthew’s Gospel, there is a strong case for it being primarily aimed at those wearied by the demands of self-righteous religion. You know, those insane individuals who think that they can serve God in their own strength and out of their own resources (cough!), who don’t really think they need verses like this one (cough, cough!).
The great news, however, is that if you’re exhausted—you qualify. This invitation is directed at shattered saints like us. Praise God!
These words are especially sweet because of who spoke them—this invitation comes straight from the gentle, humble heart of Jesus Christ.
If we could fully grasp the true depths of Christ’s love for us, we would not be able to stop ourselves from coming to him and clinging to him with desperate faith for all that he is worth.
He is, after all, the flesh-and-blood embodiment of the God who neither breaks bruised reeds nor snuffs out faintly flickering candles (Isaiah 42:3).
He is the good shepherd who diligently searches for his lost sheep and, upon finding it, scoops it up and carries it all the way home with a joyful song on his lips (Luke 15:5).
He is the friend of sinners—irresistible to the miserable, magnetic to the pathetic and a refuge to the wretched, the distressed and the oppressed.
How amazing it is to think that the Son of God—the second Person of the Trinity, the Creator and sustainer of the universe, the glorious Saviour of the world—does not look at us in our crumpled mess and write us off. He doesn’t push us away or chide us for not being strong, stable or holy enough.
Instead, he draws us to himself.
The passion in his heart for the lost, the lowest and least burns ever hotter and brighter. If we could fully grasp the true depths of Christ’s love for us, we would not be able to stop ourselves from coming to him and clinging to him with desperate faith for all that he is worth.
The offer that Jesus puts on the table is what our hearts most desperately need: rest.
Rest from striving to be good enough (or pretending that we are).
Rest from religion and performance-based faith.
Rest from trying to earn God’s favour or to pacify his anger.
Rest for our weary souls.
Rest in what Jesus has done for us on our behalf, through his death and resurrection. This is the gospel—the “good news”.
But it gets even better: Jesus offers his commitment to serving us as a gospel coach. That’s the idea behind the word “yoke”—an image of two oxen pulling together. He’ll help us to live out our faith in new ways that are neither heavy nor burdensome (the absolute opposite to whatever got us into this mess in the first place!). And ultimately, he promises perfect rest with him in the bliss of his heaven when all of this is over.
Accepting this invitation—for the first time, or the thousandth time—is the initial step on a journey to being refreshed, restored and renewed by Jesus. So to all my fellow strugglers and stragglers, limping sheep and crumpled heaps—let’s do this. Let’s respond to the voice of the Master and take him up on his generous offer. Let’s come to him, crawling if we have to, collapse at his feet and rest in his gracious embrace. Let’s wrap our feeble fingers around the treasure of his beautiful gospel and refuse to let go. Let’s fill our lungs with the oxygen of fresh faith. And let’s start moving hopeward.
This is an excerpt from Hopeward by Dai Hankey. Dai shares his own story of burnout and comes alongside other Christians who are struggling, showing us what it really means to rest in Jesus through trying times.
Dai Hankey is a church-planting pastor in Cardiff, where he lives with his wife, Michelle, and four young children. He is founder of Red Community, a Christian charity that fights human trafficking in Wales. Dai is a former skateboarder and loves to DJ. He is the author of The Hard Corps, A Man's Greatest Challenge and the Eric Says… series.
