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.
Take my yoke upon you.
To take upon a yoke seems to war against our very impression of what it means to be able to rest. Will not a yoke weigh down and burden us immensely? A yoke implies the weight of work yet to be done. How, then, can a yoke provide any sense of rest? Even in issuing this counterintuitive call, Christ spoke with complete calm and sincerity…He knew His offer was
truth, deep truth.
Learn from me.
How could we learn from Christ but to put on the yoke He bore? His yoke, one of suffering spurred by pure communion with, and delight in, God.
For I am gentle.
We stand with that yoke upon our shoulders, kept up by the knowledge that Christ will always bear the yoke for us. His offer is not a transferral of weight to our shoulders, but an invitation
to participate in the plow, work, and harvest.
And humble in heart.
To invite another to know oneself as Christ offered Himself to His disciples took a depth of humility born only of surety of relationship.
And you will find rest for your souls.
What is this promise? Not rest for a weary eye, but rest for a soul otherwise besieged by the unblinking eye of the world. Christ’s yoke is easy, but not in the manner we anticipate. The lightness of it is a direct result of the certainty Christ had in His relationship with God. Lent is that opportunity to experience learning, gentleness, humility, and rest alongside Christ as He rests in the fullness of God’s promise for us. ~Ben Gibson