These final verses from the eleventh chapter of

Matthew’s gospel are among the most comforting we

find in all of scripture.

The truth is that I am not a scripture memorizer

usually, but these words I know by heart. As one of

your pastors, I have spoken them more times than

I could possibly count. At hospital bedsides, during

funerals, in worship, in the midst of difficult diagnoses

and treatments. Jesus’ words: “Come to me, all you

who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, 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.” An invitation and a promise—words

nearly universal in their reach. For who among has

not felt weighed down by heavy burdens or weary?

How many of us feel this way right now, at this very

moment? Don’t worry—I won’t ask for a show of

hands, but I know that we’re here.

These words are perennial. They speak to the reality

of the human condition, to the fact that there is

something that we will always need that Christ will

always offer. In the same way that we will never not

thirst, we will never not need Christ’s invitation. True

to the nature of a ‘greatest hit,’ these words don’t

get old. We don’t tire of their tune or outgrow their

message. “Come to me, all you who are weary and

carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

For as comforting as these words are, it might

surprise us to realize that in the earlier part of

this passage, Jesus is angry. Since we have just

parachuted down into Matthew 11 for today, it

may be helpful to have some context here. In this

chapter in Matthew’s gospel, we find Jesus in the

midst of building conflict. He has been going about

his ministry of healing and teaching, keeping close

company with the sick, with the unclean, with tax

collectors and sinners. The religious leaders of

his generation have some opinions about this. It’s

obvious to them, and they think it should be obvious

to others: This man is a glutton, and a drunkard! The

same religious leaders also reject John the Baptist,

the purported prophet and messenger from God:

This man clothes himself in camel’s hair and rants and

raves in the wilderness.

John the Baptist is too pious; Jesus is not pious enough.

In these verses from Matthew’s gospel, we find Jesus’

annoyance on full display. These religious leaders are

like bickering children who get upset when others

don’t play according to their rules. John the Baptist

doesn’t eat and drink, and they say he has a demon;

Jesus eats and drinks, and they say he’s a glutton and

a drunkard. It’s impossible to win.

There is a second source of Jesus’ anger with the

religious leaders, and this is probably the bigger

one: Jesus believes that the religious leaders have

warped the teachings of the Torah from something

beautiful and life-giving to something harsh and

burdensome. This is not Jesus rejecting Judaism as a

flawed religion—after all, Jesus was a Jew, so this is

very much his faith and his community. He is angry

about a particular way of practicing Judaism that

was legalistic and demanding, an impossible burden

for ordinary people who did not have the time or the

knowledge or the resources to devote their lives to

a religious vocation He is angry about the particular

so-called “wise and intelligent” religious leaders who

have created stumbling blocks for God’s children,

denying access to the gifts and comfort of a life with

God to those who need it the most.

So, this is the context that is swirling in the air. This is

the mix of anger with the religious leaders and also

compassion for a suffering people that prompts these

words of life, and I invite you to hear them again.

“Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying

heavy burdens, 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.”

It is as if Jesus is saying, “I see you. You are so tired

and weighed down. It doesn’t have to be this way.

Come to me. Take my yoke upon you. Allow me to

teach you. For my yoke is kind and good.”

Words of grace for those crowds of ordinary people,

and for us.

I learned this week about a man who amassed quite a

following doing extraordinary deeds, healing the sick

and restoring sight to the blind.

I’m actually not talking about Jesus in this case

but rather a 20-something-year-old YouTuber who

has become famous by orchestrating lavish and

sometimes absurd acts of kindness and generosity,

usually involving large sums of money. His videos on

YouTube have titles like, “1000 blind people see for

the first time” and “We saved an orphanage.” Some

are challenges, like, “Last to leave the circle wins

$500,000” or “Would you sit in a tub full of snakes

for $10,000?” (Spoiler alert: it appears that many

people would.)

This famous YouTuber has over 165 million global

subscribers who watch his videos, which regularly

amass tens if not hundreds of millions of views. I’ve

been pondering this phenomenon this week with a

mix of amusement and befuddlement, but that wasn’t

all, and at a certain point I realized that I felt a certain

kind of sadness about this. We still long for a savior.

Someone who will cure our diseases. Someone who

will give us purpose and meaning. Someone who will

set us free from despair and restore our hope.

The truth is that there are many would-be messiahs

auditioning for this role, offering us their own

promises, their own kind of yoke. There is an entire

wellness industry that promises that we can be

perfected, that “we can organize ourselves, heal

ourselves, budget ourselves, love ourselves, and eat

well enough to make ourselves whole.” This is what

Kate Bowler explores in her newest book entitled

No Cure for Being Human. Kate is a theologian, an

author, a professor at Duke Divinity School. She was

diagnosed with stage IV cancer at the age of 35.

Bowler writes,

Modernity is a fever dream promising infinite

choices and unlimited progress. We can learn how

to be young forever, successful forever, agents of

our own perfectibility. We can fall in love with Tony

Robbins and Eckhart Tolle, Joyce Meyer and Rachel

Hollis. Women can learn that their better selves

can be measured in Weight Watchers points,

squeeze into Kim Kardashian’s waist trainers, or be

enhanced by the right shade of Mary Kay lipstick.

Men can save like Dave Ramsey, master the habits

of highly effective people, or flip a tire or two at

their local CrossFit. The American admiration

for bootstrappers and optimists [has become] a

capitalist paradise. Everyone is now a televangelist

of the gospel of good, better, best. “Harness your

mind to change your circumstances. The salvation

of health and wealth and happiness is only a

decision away. Will you finally let it save you?”

Now I want to be clear that if you came here today

wearing your favorite shade of Mary Kay lipstick,

or you’re going to leave and flip a tire or two, there

is absolutely nothing wrong with that. But there is

a larger question about the yoke we choose, who

or what we allow to guide us for the work of living.

I might love my lipstick or try to prioritize caring for

my body, but if I start to believe that these things can

save me, I have chosen the wrong yoke.

And we’ve all been there, haven’t we? Some of us are

there right now. Disappointed. Defeated. Let down

and without hope.

But just as Jesus has compassion for the crowds, he

has compassion for us, and scripture safeguards the

words that we need to hear. “Come to me, all you who

are weary and carrying heavy burdens, 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.”

My prayer is that you hear this invitation anew today.

If religious institutions and leaders have let you down

or turned you away, Christ’s yoke is for you.

If the freedom and agency promised by productivity,

earning, and achieving have left you feeling captive

in a life you no longer recognize, the yoke of Christ is

for you.

If the miracle benefits of the latest diet, lifestyle fad,

or self-help scheme have fallen flat, the yoke of Christ

is for you.

It is for all of us.

Paradoxically, we know that taking on the yoke of

Christ does not mean a life free from hardship and

difficulty, loss, or hard work. These will always be a

part of our human lives. As Kate Bowler likes to say,

“There’s no cure for being human.” And we also know

that taking on Christ’s yoke, despite being “easy”

and “light,” is not without cost. We will be asked to

sacrifice and to grow in integrity and to be formed

according to the fruit of the spirit.

But, friends, here’s the difference between the yoke of

Christ and the yokes of infinite choices or unlimited

progress: When we take on the yoke of Christ, we can

trust the one who guides us. He is gentle and humble

in heart. He is not a stumbling block or an empty

promise, but a welcoming embrace, an open door to a

life with God.

Yes, when we take on the yoke of Christ, we can trust

the one who guides us. His promises are sure. He

leads us not to disillusionment and despair, but to life.

Thanks be to God. Amen.