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The Lord led me to share the story below. I pray it will encourage and draw you closer to our wonderful Savior.
[h=2]The Burden
By Louise M. Gouge[/h]
[h=2]The Burden
By Louise M. Gouge[/h]
I slammed my bedroom door and leaned against it. Was there no rest
from this life? I stumbled to my bed and dropped onto it, pressing my pillow
around my ears to shut out the noise of my existence.
“Oh, God,” I
cried, “Let me sleep. Let me sleep forever and never wake up!”
With a
deep sob, I tried to will myself into oblivion, then welcomed the blackness that
came over me.
Light surrounded me as I regained consciousness. I focused
on its source: the figure of a man standing before a cross.
“My child,”
the person asked, “why do you want to come to Me before I am ready to call you?”
“Lord, I’m sorry. It’s just that…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 on 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, and 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 to my knees beneath
its weight.
“Oh, take it off quickly! What makes it so heavy?”
“Look inside.”
I untied the straps and opened the top. Inside
was the 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. 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 cure 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 sexual abuse and a marriage of emotional
abuse. When I came to Ruth’s burden, I didn’t even try. I knew that inside were
arthritis, old age, a demanding full-time job, and a beloved husband in a
nursing home.
“They’re all too heavy, Lord. Give me back my own.”
As I lifted the familiar load once again, it seemed much lighter than
the others.
“Let’s look inside,” He said.
I turned away, holding
it close. “That’s not a very good idea.”
“Why?”
“There’s a lot of junk in there.”
“Let Me see.”
The gentle thunder of His 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. And 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?”
“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, if you will trust Me, I will renew your strength. If
you allow Me to fill you with My Spirit, I’ll give you patience.”
Then He took some pebbles from my burden.
“Yes, Lord, 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 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 an ugly wound.
“But, Lord, this brick is so awful, so nasty,
so…Lord! What happened to Your hands? They’re scarred!”
No longer focused on my burden, I looked up for the first time into His face. On 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 me the brick.”
I placed my filthy brick into His wounded palm. It contained all
the dirt and evil of my life: my sins, my pride, my selfishness, 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 must 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 even imagine now.”
“Yes, Lord. I will call on You.”
I reached down 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 here at My feet. Joan’s, Paula’s,
Debra’s, and Ruth’s, and many others. 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 that passed my understanding flooded my soul. I stood tall and walked back into life.
“Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in
heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden
is light.” Matthew 11:28-30.