The Unforced Rhythm of Grace
When Was It Written
On Sunday, January 14th, Kevin Wood preached on Legalism and the way it weighs down the spirit of people. This article just talks about how we try manage the small sins in our lives, and the price we pay for not letting all our baggage go.
Who Wrote It
Kevin Wood, Pastor
THE UNFORCED RHYTHM OF GRACE
The bag had to weigh at least 50 pounds, but it was only 25 pounds when I packed it. It seemed that every thirty minutes, it gained ten pounds. My large suitcase rested by my side. Though it was heavier, it was much less of a burden because of its little wheels (I hope whoever invented those wheels got a raise). The fifty pound green carry-on was slung over my right shoulder, soreness and pain throbbing from the constant sagging of the weight. I would have switched it to my left shoulder, but it was already worn out from carrying the bag for the first hour of standing in line. There were just three people in front of me at the ticket counter. But in Atlanta’s airport, three people could mean three hours.
Fortunately, things moved quickly that day. “Next!” rang out down the counter from three soft southern voices at almost exactly the same time. One passenger went left. One went right. One went straight. This must be how Moses felt when the Red Sea parted.
Thirty more seconds of standing, thirty more seconds of stinging pain, and then those sweet words rang out, “Next passenger”. I looked fifteen feet to my left and saw a muscle-bound blond-headed man standing behind the desk. He was huge. I assumed his name must have been Lars because he spoke with an obvious German accent. He had more muscle in his neck than I had in my whole body.
“Hello, sir. Will you be checking any bags today?” A little voice inside of me said “be sarcastic”, and I thought about saying, “No, I’d rather carry all 100 pounds of my luggage onto the plane with me.” But he had been too polite, and since I’m a minister I don’t get the right to be rude, even in Atlanta, no matter how long I’ve stood in line.
I finally spoke up and answered, “Yes, I have one bag.”
“You don’t want to check your other bag, sir?” He nodded his head towards the green bag slung over my shoulder. The muscles in his neck flexed when he tilted his head. I was not going to show any signs of weariness or weakness in front of Lars, Lord of the Luggage.
“No, it’s okay. It’s just a carry-on. I can handle it.” Lie. Lie. Lie. I heard a voice inside say, “It’s not okay. It’s one monster of a carry-on. And, no, you can’t handle it.” But pride sometimes just won’t let us drop our baggage.
He took my answer for what it was worth and asked the standard security question, “Have these bags been in your possession the whole time you have been in the airport?”
“Yes,” I replied. Now that was the truth. My body attested to that one. Truth be told, it felt like these bags had been with me my whole life by that time. Lars took my suitcase. I took my ticket. Then my carry-on and I trudged down the terminal five hundred yards to our gate, my shoulder cursing me every step of the way.
So much of the sin in our life is like carry-on luggage. We think it’s small. We think it’s manageable. We think it’s no big deal. But the longer it hangs around the heavier it becomes. And the longer it hangs around, the harder it is to let go. It’s our ragged soul that pays the price for our unchecked pride. Jesus makes an incredible offer in Matthew 11:28-30. “Take my yoke,” he says, “for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Translation? “You carry my bags,” Jesus says, “I’ll take yours, carry-on included.” What is this “yoke” he offers? A “yoke” referred to the special interpretation and application each rabbi had in reference to God’s word. Whenever a young man was accepted as a disciple of a certain rabbi, the disciple was said to take up his rabbi’s yoke. Basically, a rabbi’s yoke was his way of life; how life should be done in rhythm with God’s word. Most rabbis broke the backs of their followers by making rule after rule of how to live: eat this food, avoid these people, pray this many times, etc. But Jesus’ yoke didn’t pile up back-breaking rules. His yoke boils down to three simple statements. Believe in me. Love God. Love people. That’s it. That’s the rhythm. His yoke is easy. His burden is light. Give him your baggage - all of it - and experience the blessing of traveling light.