Come, All the Weary and Heavy Laden

Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek

September 20, 2020

Scripture Reading

Matthew 11:25-30

25 At that time Jesus declared, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; 26 yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. 27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. 28 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 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. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Introduction

This morning we begin a new sermon series that will carry us until the Christmas season. We’re calling the series, “All Who Are Weary: The Idols That Exhaust Us and the Savior Who Won’t.” It’s common for movies to draw their title from a key line from the movie. If this sermon series were a movie, Matthew 11 would be the scene that becomes the words of the title. But I’m not going to start in Matthew 11 yet. We’ll get there in a few minutes.

Perhaps you’ve heard studies that conclude that over the long haul of marriage—all the ups and downs and suffering and joy, the ‘for betters and the for worses’—it’s common for two spouses to begin to look like each other. After twenty, thirty, and forty years of marriage, not only do couples who love each other often act like each other, having similar mannerisms and preferences about food and movies and hobbies, but couples even begin to look more and more like each other. There is a real sweetness to that. A handsome groom and a beautiful bride stand at the altar on their first day of marriage and on their 10,000 day of marriage they actually display physical signs of the spiritual reality that the Bible describes as two becoming one flesh. It’s precious. I’ve also heard the same dynamic talked about with pets. Maybe I’m cold-hearted, but that doesn’t seem to have the same warm effect on me when I hear that. I know we call a dog “man’s best friend,” but does anyone really want to look like their mutt? No woman thinks, “Boy, if I could only date a guy who looks like his St. Bernard.”

I’m being silly, but before we get into the warmth of our passage in Matthew 11, we need to lay some groundwork related to the words in the subtitle of the series, specifically the words “idols” and “exhaust.” We need to talk about the biblical realities that what we behold, we become. Another way to say it would be to say that what we idolize, we begin to look more and more like and act more and more like.

1. Becoming What We Behold

In the West, when we think of idols, we often think of idols as something primarily in the East or in the past. We think of the idols of Buddhists and certainly Hindus and their seemingly innumerable number of gods and goddesses. We think of gold statues, some of them fat and cute and others bloody and horrifying. We also think of the idols in the Old Testament, the idols of the nations, those of the Philistines, Canaanites, Babylonians, Assyrians, the gods of Chemosh, Molech, Asherah, and Baal. Perhaps you think of the story in 1 Samuel about Dagon, and how when the god Dagon fell over in front of the Ark of the Lord, the Philistines had to put him back up again—twice. It’s good that these images come to mind when we think of idolatry, for these were the idols popular among the nations, and sadly sometimes among Israel. But if that’s all you think about, you’re probably able to easily keep the notion of idolatry far away, as something other people do but not you—not us. The Bible, however, has a definition of idolatry that is both broader and deeper. When understood rightly, idols are a problem for all of us.

Consider a few verses. Our adult Sunday school is going to study the book of Habakkuk. The book talks about a foreign nation invading the nation of Israel. The Lord refers to that nation as men “whose own might is their god!” (Habakkuk 1:11). That’s interesting, isn’t it? There’s no statue or sculpture. It says their might is their god. In other words, what they trusted in, what they relied upon most, what they gave their ultimate allegiance to, what they protected and guarded most, what they served and worshipped, was their own strength. Their strength was their god. This is similar to a line in one of Paul’s letters, where he refers to those who are overrun with worldly passions and says, “their god is their belly.” (Philippians 3:19). Now, he’s not saying they treated their belly like a statue that they bowed down to. But he is saying what they lived for and loved most in life was serving themselves and feeding their own appetite as though their appetite was their god—because in a very real way it was.

And consider these verses from Colossians 3.

For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory. Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. (Colossians 3:3–5)

Paul says that if you are a Christian, if God has loved you and saved you and changed you and when he comes again you’ll be with him forever, then you should begin to put to death what is earthly in you. Then Paul lists several examples, like sexual immorality and covetousness. Then he says, “which is idolatry.”

So wait, Paul, how is covetousness idolatry? I thought being envious of someone was just being envious. Why the extra label?

Well, envy is envy. But it’s also more. God is saying that embedded deeper than the desire to have what other people have is dissatisfaction with God that leads you to create another god. Covetousness is a way to look out at the world and believe if I just had this or I just had that then I would be happy. This, Paul says, is idolatry, the finding of our deepest joys and deepest longings in someone or something other than God. It can be bad things, like sexual sin, or it can be good things that become ultimate things, as one pastor puts it. Family is good, work is good, exercise is good, our belly and our strength are good, but if they become ultimate we worship and serve, then we engage in idolatry.

Think about how this played out in the garden of Eden. The serpent says to Eve that when she takes of the forbidding fruit, “you will not surely die.” Then he adds, “for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God . . .” (Genesis 3:4–5). In other words, God is holding out on you. There’s another reality out there that you don’t have, but if you had it, if you covet that reality and you get it, then you can be like god—you will be god.”

That phrase is helpful to think about. “You will be like God.” I’m coming back around to where I began. When we behold something, we become like it. And that’s not always a good thing. When we create and behold idols, it’s an ugly thing. Think of that line from Paul about when our belly becomes our god. What does it look like for someone to become a slave of his or her appetites for twenty, thirty, or forty years? What does it look like to be given over to pornography for a lifetime? If you live for profit and advancement in business and money become ultimate in your live and you possess a ruthless commitment to the bottom line, what does that look like when you retire at 63? Are you even able to enjoy life and all your toys? Or what happens when you give yourself over to beauty and trying to never show the signs of aging. What does that feel like when you do age? You don’t just lose your health; you lose something deeper, and insecurity wells up inside you, seeping into every interaction you have with people.

I’d like to read a portion of Psalm 115, which makes explicit what I’m saying here.

Why should the nations say,
    “Where is their God?”
Our God is in the heavens;
    he does all that he pleases.

Their idols are silver and gold,
    the work of human hands.
They have mouths, but do not speak;
    eyes, but do not see.
They have ears, but do not hear;
    noses, but do not smell.
They have hands, but do not feel;
    feet, but do not walk;
    and they do not make a sound in their throat.
Those who make them become like them;
    so do all who trust in them. (Psalm 115:2–8)

Again, what we behold, we become. I suppose this could sound all very academic, very theoretical. But it’s not.

Many of you would have seen the movie The Help. It’s about the race and privilege in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 60s. The movie follows the stories of several black maids and their white employers. One particular woman named Miss Hilly is cruel, and she exhausts herself and others in her sin and evil. There’s a powerful scene where her maid tells Miss Hilly the truth. The maid ends her short speech with a look of disgust but also a look of pity and sadness, and she asks rhetorically, “Ain’t you tired, Miss Hilly? Ain’t you tired?” Miss Hilly had given herself over to her sin, and she began to look more and more like the ugly pride and idolatry within her heart. And whether she knew it or not, she was exhausted.

Our series is called “All Who Are Weary: The Idols That Exhaust Us and the Savior Who Won’t.” Before we speak of the comfort of Jesus, I’ll ask an uncomfortable question. Ain’t you tired?

You might be tired for several reasons, perhaps reasons that have nothing to do with sin—just life in a fallen world. We all have some of that, I’m sure. But many of you are additionally tired because of sin, both your sin and the sin committed against you. If that’s true of you, you are in the right place.

2. What This Passage Is and Is Not Saying

Look with me again at the words of the savior Jesus Christ.

Come to me, all who labor 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)

In the verses that come before this, Jesus asserts a closeness to his Father, who he calls the Lord of heaven and earth. And this is followed by a strong affirmation of the sovereignty of the Father and the Son in salvation. To quote verse 27, Jesus says, “No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.” And you might think this sort of sovereignty would lead to a logic that we should just be passive in salvation. “Well, if God is in charge, I’ll sit on my hands and do nothing.” But the very next words out of the mouth of Jesus are, “Come.”

And Jesus says, “Come to me.” When we come to our Savior, we don’t come primarily to a doctrine or an abstract notion of truth, but we come to a person. We come to the person of truth and grace, the person who is lowly, free, true, and strong.

And you might think that the one who is Lord over heaven and earth, the one who rules all things, would say, “Come to me those who have their act together. Come to me, you who have manhours to give. Come to me, you who have achieved and overcome.”

But that’s not who he invites. Jesus invites not the wise and intelligent but infants. He invites the helpless and the dependent. He invites the weary and heavy-laden. Think about that phrase. Weary denotes those engaged in difficult, exhausting work that’s likely speaking of a weariness that is self-inflicted. You’re tired because you are working hard. But heavy laden denotes those who have been put upon, whose who like a donkey have had their backs loaded down with weights they didn’t create, and they didn’t choose, but the burden is there. To both groups, Jesus says, “Come to me because I am gentle and lowly in heart.”

Your sin and your shame and your weakness and your idolatry are the very things he wants. You may think that that one perfect spiritual day—the day you get up early and have the perfect quiet time and read and pray and journal and send your kids off to school with notes in their lunch boxes and at the bus stop you tell your neighbor about God and invite her to church and on the day goes until you reach the zenith of spiritual perfection—this is the day when you are most invited to draw near to God, the day you are most worthy. But that’s not what Jesus says. Jesus bids you come before you are better, before you have fixed the problem, when you sin stinks like rotten garbage.

Jesus describes his yoke as easy and his burden as light. When we hear “yoke,” we think of an egg yolk, but back in the day farmers had a way of hitching oxen together. The wood and rope connecting system was called a yoke, which allowed the full force of two oxen to plow side by side. In parts of the world, farming still proceeds in this way. Imagine being yoked to a healthy ox. We’d be worked to death in an afternoon.

Jesus invites us to be yoked to him, to have rope and wood harnessed between our neck and his, which, I think, is a provocative metaphor for faith. And Jesus calls that arrangement easy and light. The wood won’t blister, and the rope won’t burn.

Jesus is talking to people who primarily knew God through the religion of their leaders. Look what Jesus has to say to the religious leaders later in the book of Matthew.

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so do and observe whatever they tell you, but not the works they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. (Matthew 23:1–4)

It seems that when Jesus invited all to come to him, he was doing so with the backdrop of a harsh yoke of religious oppression. This background to Jesus’s context has caused us as a team of pastors to reflect on our context. What are the yokes strapped to us? Where do we hear the serpent whisper, “You shall not surely die; you can be like God”?

We printed a flyer for the next nine weeks of our sermon passages. We would love for you to be reading each passage before you come to church, prayerfully asking for yourself and for our church that this would be a season where chains are broken. If you have roommates, maybe you could be reading the passage together over breakfast or over dinner the night before church. Maybe you’ll text a picture of the flyer and send it to friends, inviting them to visit our church.

Sometimes as a parent you see a child you love get so worked up and frustrated and angry and flailing about and what he or she might need at that moment is not a harsh word but a giant, strong bear hug that doesn’t let go until the tears are swallowed by love.

Over the next few weeks, we hope to look out to you and say,

(Week 2) Come to Jesus, you who work all day – every day. Come, you who feel like you can’t take a sabbath. Come find rest in Jesus.

(Week 3) Come, you who have constant fear of what others think about you and you are exhausted at trying to keep people happy.

(Week 4) Come, you who do not own houses and cars and jewelry and fishing boasts, but instead, those houses and cars and jewelry own you.

(Week 5) Come, you who seek to have the good life, the life that owns houses and cars and so on, but you’re exhausted because you feel like the “happiness carrot” dangles just beyond the fingertips of your stretched arms. You might touch it and tap it but can never squeeze tight.

(Week 6) Come to Jesus when your political leaders and political causes leave you cynical and disillusioned. Hear Jesus in John 18 and 19 tell Pilot that his kingdom, Jesus’s kingdom, is not of this world and receive that as good news.

(Week 7) Come, you who feel the need to manicure your image, to keep a perfect social media profile that communicates you have it all.

(Week 8) Come, you who have sexual brokenness. Bring your baggage, bring your bruises. Jesus longs to meet you where you hurt most.

(Week 9) Come, you who are so focused on your own world that you can’t even see others around you except insomuch as they can help you and serve you. Come, lay down your desire to be God, and let the real God rule over you.

(Week 10) And finally, we’ll hear Jesus say, Come, all you who don’t fit it, you who society shuns. Come, find a seat at the feast of the kingdom.

But you don’t have to wait until next week to draw closer to God. If you’re tired and if God is stirring something in your heart, come to him today. And let us know too; we would love to listen and pray with you.

I’ll invite the music team back up as we pray, and we’ll go into a time of communion. . .