"Why is
my burden so heavy?" I slammed the office door and
leaned against it.
Is there no rest from this life? I wondered. I stumbled
to my desk and dropped into
my chair, pressing my face into my arms to shut out the
frustrations of my existence.
"Oh God," I cried, "let me sleep. Let me
sleep forever and never wake up!"
With a deep sob I willed myself into oblivion, then
welcomed the blackness that
came over me.
Light surrounded me as I regained consciousness. I
focused on the source:
The figure of a man standing before a cross.
"My child," the Person asked, "why did you
want to come to me before I am ready
to call you?"
"Lord, I'm sorry. It's just that... I can't go on.
You see how hard it is for me. Look at
this awful burden on my back. I simply can't carry it
anymore."
"But haven't I told you to cast all of your burdens
upon me, because I care for you?
My yoke is easy, and My burden is light."
"I knew You would say that. But why does mine have
to be so heavy?"
"My child, everyone in the world has a burden.
Perhaps you would like to try a different one?"
"I can do that?"
He pointed to several burdens lying at His feet. "You
may try any of these."
All of them seemed to be of equal size. But each was
labeled with a name.
"There's Joan's," I said. Joan was married to a
wealthy businessman. She lived in a sprawling estate and
dressed her three daughters in the prettiest designer
clothes. Sometimes she drove me to church in her Cadillac
when my car was broken.
"Let me try that one." How difficult could her
burden be? I thought. The Lord removed my burden and
placed Joan's on my shoulders. I sank my knees beneath
its weight. "Take it off!" I said. "What
makes it so heavy?"
"Look inside."
I untied the straps and opened the top. Inside was a
figure of her Mother-in-law, and when I lifted it out, it
began to speak.
"Joan, you'll never be good enough for my son,"
it began. "He never should have married you. You're
a terrible mother to my grandchildren..." I quickly
placed the figure back in the pack and withdrew another.
It was Donna, Joan's youngest daughter. Her head was
bandaged from the surgery that had failed to resolve her
epilepsy. A third figure was Joan's brother. Addicted to
drugs, he had been convicted of killing a police officer.
"I see why her burden is so heavy, Lord. But she's
always smiling and helping others. I didn't realize...."
"Would you like to try another?" He asked
quietly.
I tested several. Paula's felt heavy: She was raising
four small boys without a father. Debra's did too: A
childhood of abuse and a marriage of emotional abuse.
When I looked at another, I didn't even try. I knew that
inside I would find arthritis, old age, a demanding full-time
job, and a beloved husband in a nursing home. "They're
all too heavy, Lord," I said." "Give me
back my own." As I lifted the familiar load once
again, It seemed much lighter than the others did.
"Lets look inside" He said.
I turned away, holding it close. "That's not a good
idea," I said.
"Why?"
"There's a lot of junk in there."
"Let Me see."
His gentle voice compelled me. I opened my burden. He
pulled out a brick.
"Tell me about this one."
"Lord, You know. It's money. I know we don't suffer
like people in some countries or even the homeless here
in America. But we have no insurance, and when the kids
get sick, we can't always take them to the doctor. They've
never been to a dentist. And I'm tired of dressing them
in hand-me-downs."
"My child, I will supply all of your needs... and
your children's. I've given them healthy bodies. I will
teach them that expensive clothing doesn't make a person
valuable in my sight." Then He lifted out the figure
of a small boy.
"And this?" He asked. "Andrew..." I
hung my head, ashamed to call my son a burden. "But,
Lord, he's hyperactive. He's not quiet like the other two.
He makes me so tired. He's always getting hurt, and
someone is bound to think I abuse him. I yell at him all
the time. Someday I may really hurt him...."
"My child," He said, "If you trust Me, I
will renew your strength, if you allow Me to fill you
with My Spirit, I will give you patience." Then He
took some pebbles from my burden.
"Yes, Lord," I said with a sigh. "Those
are small. But they're important. I hate my hair. It's
thin, and I can't make it look nice. I can't afford.to go
to the beauty shop. I'm overweight and can't stay on a
diet. I hate all my clothes. I hate the way I look!"
"My child, people look at your outward appearance,
but I look at your heart. By My Spirit you can gain self-control
to lose weight. But your beauty should not come from
outward appearance. Instead, it should come from your.inner
self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit,
which is of great worth in My sight."
My burden now seemed lighter than before. "I guess I
can handle it now," I said.
"There is more," He said. "Hand Me that
last brick." "Oh, You don't have to take that.
I can handle it." "My child, give it to me."
Again His voice compelled me. He reached out His hand,
and for the first time I saw the ugly wound.
"But, Lord, this brick is so awful, so nasty, so...Lord!
What happened to Your hands? They're so scarred!"
No longer focused on my burden, I looked for the first
time into His face. In His brow were ragged scars--as
though someone had pressed thorns into His flesh. "Lord,"
I whispered. "What happened to you?" His loving
eyes reached into my soul.
"My child, you know. Hand me the brick. It belongs
to Me. I bought it."
"How?"
"With My blood."
"But why, Lord?"
"Because I have loved you with an everlasting love."
Give the last brick to me."
I placed the filthy brick into His wounded palm. It
contained the entire dirt and evil of my life: my pride,
my selfishness, and the depression that constantly
tormented me. He turned to the cross and hurled my brick
into the pool of blood at its base. It hardly made a
ripple.
"Now, My child, you need to go back. I will be with
you always. When you are troubled, call to Me and I will
help you and show you things you cannot imagine now."
"Yes, Lord, I will call on you."
I reached to pick up my burden.
"You may leave that here if you wish. You see all
these burdens? They are the ones that others have left at
my feet. Joan's, Paula's, Debra's, Ruth's... When you
leave your burden here, I carry it with you. Remember, My
yoke is easy and My burden is light."
As I placed my burden with Him, the light began to fade.
Yet I heard Him whisper, "I will never leave you,
nor forsake you." A peace flooded my soul.
Author Unknown
This was sent in an email message.
If you know the author, please let me know so I may give
proper credit.
"The Burden" was borrowed from Charlene's Homepage
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