There has been an idea, or rather a dilemma, swirling around in my head for quite some time, but today it finally surfaced and demanded to be heard.  Something happened today that hurt a little.  It wasn’t a tremendous wound but a small sting that caused me to go down a fruitless path of question and self-doubt.  I found myself singing the same old songs of inadequacy and inferiority that I know all too well.  And it got me thinking how easily I took those steps, how readily I gave in to the whispers and subtleties that made me question who my God says I am.  And as this reality sunk in deeper, I realized that this is the burden and the curse that all of humanity seems to share.  We are so quick to carry the lies and belittlements and yet so slow and apprehensive to embrace all the truths scripture declares over us.

We all do it.  We proceed through our day and when we encounter something someone says or does or even something we perceive, we pick up a piece of self-doubt, or self-judgment or even self-loathing.  And the pieces are so heavy aren’t they?  And what’s more shocking is that we don’t just pick them up.  We actually pick up these virtual cinder blocks and then sling them over our backs and carry them for days, months, even years.  It is staggering to me.  And it is heart wrenching.  Christ spread his arms wide on a cross to tell us that we are loved, that we are forgiven, that we are holy and blameless, that we are chosen, that we have an inheritance, that we have purpose and hope.  Just read Ephesians 1.  It’s all there plain as day.  But it’s not enough is it?  Instead of choosing the wings that these truths can provide, we elect to shoulder murderous weights day after day after day; weights that convince us we are insignificant and small and unworthy.  I have done this more times than I can count.  I have embraced lies about who I am and who I am not.  I have bought into fables telling falsehoods about what I’ve done or what I haven’t done.  I have believed that I am not good enough and that the very sum of all I am falls terribly short.   And then, after a while, the weights transform.  Though they may have initially been an incident or a word, they quickly and powerfully morph into much larger contenders.  Fear, worry, guilt, anger.  And as I walk through life with these massive burdens, I am exhausted.  I am sore and tired and sick of my willingness to aid and abet the enemy.

In Matthew 11:29-30, Jesus invites us to take his yoke and, in doing so, find rest for our souls.  He utters the glorious words we have heard throughout Sunday school and Sunday sermons.  “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”  And while my heart leaps at the truth of this, my head is a slow follower.  My memory, my humanness, my sin wants me to carry on with this agonizing yoke I’ve chosen.  But His yoke is so easy, so light, so inviting.

I find it is a struggle every day for me to choose what is easy.  It’s so ironic.  There is such painful irony in our reluctance to throw off what is damaging and wounding and grasp, with open arms, that which is freeing and redeeming.  But I also find the struggle is worth it.  Every moment that I am victorious, every moment I allow myself to swim in the truth of my identity in Christ brings me that much closer to my Father.  Every step I take away from condemnation is a step I take towards love and forgiveness.  Every word of judgment I reject is a promise of holiness and worthiness I accept and cling to.  So I will move forward.  Towards truth.  Towards the cross.  Towards the voice who speaks my identity and longs for me to believe it.