Sunday, July 09, 2023

Sermon - Pentecost 6 - Matthew 11:25-30


We Americans mostly enjoy the luxury of being able to take vacations.  We go off with our family, often in the summer, for some R&R, rest and relaxation.  Or perhaps your idea of rest is a more active “see the sights” approach, taking in the museums or doing all the activities.  But in any case, for us, vacation means stepping out of the usual routines of work, and into (we tell ourselves) some much needed rest.

Work and rest are two sides of a coin, since the beginning of the world.  God himself worked for 6 days – making everything in creation by the power of his word – and then resting on the 7th day.  Of course, it wasn’t because he was tuckered out.  He rested for us.  To set a pattern for us of work and rest, times of productivity and times of re-charging.  He designed us to need sleep, and not to go on without rest indefinitely.  And, of course, there is some worldly wisdom also in times of rest to recharge and rejuvenate ourselves – it makes us better workers. 

But Jesus isn’t here offering a vacation.  He’s not the butler of the divine hotel ready to take your bags and set you up by the pool.  He’s not prescribing for you the proper work-life balance, and telling you that you’re too hard on yourself and you need to kick back and have a margarita.

Just as the peace he gives is not as the world gives, so the rest he gives is much different as well.

He’s offering a much deeper rest.  And he offers it for free.  It gives us rest from a different kind of labor.  And he offers it to all who are weary and burdened.

Another thing Genesis teaches us about work and rest is this:  work is not a result of the fall into sin.  Like Marriage, it is a good gift that God created and designed before the fall.  Adam and Eve had work to do, even before they sinned.  Adam was set to tend the garden, Eve would bear children and such, and together they would have dominion over all creation.  God put them in charge, but he also gave them work to do.  And this is part of what he declared “very good.”

But take note when things do go sour at the fall into sin.  Then and only then does work become labor.  The good and joyful activities and responsibilities of life become tainted and corrupted by sin and death and sorrow. 

Gardening now brings weeds, thorns, and thistles that prick and cause pain.  The ground doesn’t cooperate like it did before, and now man must sweat and toil for his daily bread.  Likewise, Eve finds trouble in her vocations as mother and wife, pain in childbirth and frustrations with her husband, Adam.  I’d argue, too, that the pain in childbirth thing extends to trouble raising children, too, at least through the teenage years.

And so we see today, that sin messes up everything, doesn’t it?  Work and relationships, joyful callings are made sorrowful, even some of the highest gifts of God are tarnished with bitterness because of the sin we bring.  People say, “I love my work, but…” and it’s just a shadow of the true nature of the problem, which runs deep, affects us all, and goes all the way back to Eden.

And into this swirling mess of chaos, this sad and tearful pit of despair, this weary well of exhaustion that is our sinful world – steps Jesus.  And the clarion call goes out from his blessed lips, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Jesus is not messing around.  He knows our burden and he knows it well.  He knows how the weight of sin and death press heavy upon us.  He knows, because he himself shoulders that weight.  He carries his cross, and stacked upon it, we might imagine the infinite tower of our woes – sins we’ve committed and are yet to commit, along with all the hurts and pains and tears and troubles they bring.  And at the top of that teetering tower sits death itself, whose hot breath is always down our necks, crushing us with the weight of inevitability.  Jesus takes that all, all of it.  He takes it for us.  And he nails it to the cross by his work, his labor – a labor of love for us all.

And in exchange, he gives you his yoke.  Now, a yoke, of course, is a heavy wooden beam placed on the shoulders of oxen as they plow the field.  A yoke has long been a symbol of work, or responsibility. 

The pastor’s stole, you might be surprised to learn, this colored material around my neck, is supposed to remind us of a yoke – that the pastor has, on his shoulders, a great responsibility – for teaching the pure and true word of God, both law and gospel, to the people.  It’s a reminder of the burden of office that is not to be taken lightly.

But “take my yoke”, Jesus says, “for it is light.”  What?  That’s like saying take my troubles, for they are a joy!  Take my sorrow – it will make you happy!  Take my cross, the wooden beam I bear and… well… he does call us to bear our own crosses, doesn’t he?

But the yoke that is light and easy is really the Gospel and everything that comes with it.  HIS work, accomplished for us.  His death in payment for ours.  His blood, shed instead of ours.  His righteousness, earned by his perfect obedience, placed upon us – not as a burden, but more like a victor’s wreath or a spray of flowers that marks us as the winner for the sake of his loss.

Jesus’ yoke is his gift of himself – and he invites you and me and all people to come and simply receive it, receive him, by faith, and be saved.  Be at rest.  It’s that simple and easy.

Notice, he doesn’t place a heavy yoke of law upon you, a yoke of more and more work and labor.  He doesn’t add a laundry list of commandments (we have trouble with 10 or 2 anyway).  He doesn’t tell you to be sure to dot your T’s and cross your I’s if you want your work to make the grade.  He says I will “GIVE” you rest.  He’s not selling it or offering it with strings attached.  This is pure and free grace, just like Jesus, isn’t it?

But this doesn’t mean there is no work for us to do.  Remember work itself isn’t evil.

The work of salvation is done.  The work of justification is done.  The work of accomplishing our forgiveness, winning our life, and procuring our eternal reward – well, as Jesus said, “it is finished.”

But the work for us that remains is the light and easy work of the Christian.  It is fulfilling the good works that God has already prepared for us beforehand, that we should walk in them.  It is loving God and loving neighbor, not on fear or pain of death, but in the grateful response of the New Creation that lives in us! 

It is also, like Christ’s example, work that is done humbly.  We don’t need to point to our list of accomplishments, either to prove them to God, or to our neighbor, or to ourselves.  The work that really counts is Christ’s and it’s done.  The labors of our life of faith are a joyful response, not a toll that must be paid and measured.  For the Christian, there is no need to keep record of wrongs, for all is forgiven in Christ. And there is no need to track our spiritual progress, or buff up our resume’ of righteousness, for Jesus has already done it all for us.

Or take St. Paul’s helpful comments from Romans 7 today.  What a useful passage for every Christian to consider, when we think of our yoke of good works before God.  The evil I hate, I find myself doing.  The good that I want to do, I can’t seem to do!  Like Paul, our flesh still labors under the burden of sin, but our spirit is freed from its yoke.  Or, as Paul says it, “It is no longer I who do (this evil), but sin that dwells within me.”

And so, the Christian is at rest in one sense – our salvation is secure in Christ.  In another sense there is no rest as the flesh and the spirit continue their war within us.  But even this will not last forever.  Jesus’ promise of rest will ultimately win in the fullest sense.  Paul cries out in frustration, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”  And of course we know the answer is Jesus.

One day, God will call you home.  Jesus will say, in yet another way, “Come to me, weary one.  Come and leave your labors behind you. Come to me, and rest.  Come receive the reward that is prepared for you.  Come enjoy the mansions of heaven.  Come to live and not labor under death’s heavy burden.  Come to the peace and tranquility of eternal joy where all tears are wiped away by the very hand of God.  Come, dear child, and rest.  Rest in peace.

Jesus calls to you today, by his Spirit, through his word.  He calls you to a rest as he alone can give, rest for the weary, rest for your soul.  A yoke that is light and easy because he’s done all the heavy lifting at the cross.  And all that is left for us is to believe it, and live out that faith in joy until we receive our final promised rest.

In Jesus Christ, Amen.

 

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