I’ve been weighed down by a problem lately, a complex and serious one. I’ve tried thinking my way through it, seeking advice, offering it up in confused prayer. It sticks to my heart tenaciously, where I’m aware of it all day long. Finally the other day I got up and went over to the chapel around the corner.
“You said, ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened’, so I’ve come,” I told Jesus, with a touch of petulance, “So I’m here. To be with you. That may be all I can do, but hey—I came.”
I was astonished at how physically “going to Jesus” made a difference in my prayer. For though it’s true that God is everywhere, sometimes my thoughts are all over the place as well. Literally going out of my way to seek him made a difference.
God didn’t solve my problem. He did help me see that part of the burden I was carrying was that I’d been asking Jesus to share my yoke and pull with me, and that what deep-down what I needed was to take his yoke and learn from him.
That gave me rest. It put my priorities back in order. It gave me courage and perspective and renewed hope. I no longer felt alone, and it wasn’t because Jesus was with me. It was because I was with him.
