This is an adapted form of the sermon I preached July 9, 2023. The gospel reading I preached on was Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30. You can watch a video of the sermon here.

It was a Sunday in early July, just a few days after Independence Day, and Fred was at church. He was listening to the pastor read the gospel reading. In it, Jesus said, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens.” Well, that’s me, Fred thought. I’m weary and I’m carrying a lot. He thought about the annoying new blood pressure medicine his doctor just put him on. I need some freedom from all this stress, he thought! What do you got, Jesus?

Then he heard Jesus say, “Take my yoke upon you.”

Hold up, Fred thought. That’s not right. A yoke is a sign of servitude. Animals wear a yoke so we can control them, he thought. I’m not wearing any yoke! That’s not freedom! He thought about Independence Day, his favorite holiday, the day that celebrated the American colonies throwing off the shackles that had been placed on them by the King of Great Britain. Fred loved Independence Day because it reminded him of freedom.

Freedom was the thing Fred craved most in life. And when Fred heard that Jesus had a yoke for him, something clicked in his head. He decided that he didn’t need to hear this anymore. At that moment, he declared his own independence. Independence from church. He didn’t say it out loud, but in his mind it was loud and clear. And as the people sat down for the sermon, Fred left his wife in the pew, and walked out the back door, intending never to come back.

He drove home, and enjoyed the rest of his day. That really felt good, he realized. Taking charge of his own life, walking out on things felt really good. The next day, Fred was at work, and he realized, Hold on, I don’t really like this job. I don’t like the hours, I don’t like the work, and I really don’t like my boss. I’m leaving. And he declared independence from his job, walked right out the door, never intending to come back.

When he got home several hours early from work, Fred’s wife was not delighted. He’d just abandoned her at church the day before, and now he quit his job. They started to argue. Over the next few weeks, the arguments got louder and stronger. Without Fred’s income, their savings account began to shrink. This led to more arguments. Eventually Fred said to himself, “I am not happy in this marriage anymore. I’m only here because I made those vows so many years ago.” And he declared independence from his vows, left the house for a motel, and called a divorce attorney.

And Fred wasn’t done yet. One day, he looked in the mirror and said, “I don’t want to brush my teeth today. Why should I have to do that?” And he declared independence from oral hygiene, and threw his toothbrush out the window. Over time, Fred declared independence from paying bills, independence from his annoying blood pressure medicine, independence from being courteous, independence from wearing socks, independence from obeying the law.

And before long, Fred found himself alone, living on the street, hungry, tired, sick, stealing from stores, and on the run from the law. And he found himself miserable. Yet he was free. He could do whatever he wanted. As he sat on the street corner, he proudly proclaimed to everyone around him, “I am free! I don’t serve anybody!” And then it finally hit him. He wasn’t free. He was a slave of himself, a slave of his own desires. He wasn’t free at all.

Sometimes we think that freedom means throwing off all the chains that bind us, throwing off all the yokes that are put upon us. Nobody tells me what to do. I’m in charge of my life. But the truth is, you’re not. You are always bound by something. You are always serving someone, or something. Whether it’s a person, or an idea, or yourself. Some of you may remember Bob Dylan singing, “It may be the devil and it may be the Lord, but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.”

Now, Fred is of course an extreme case, a story I made up. None of us act quite like that. In reality, I think we all slip back and forth between who or what we’re serving. Sometimes we’re faithfully following God, and sometimes we act selfishly. Sometimes we make decisions based on finances, and other times based on compassion. Sometimes we do things to avoid discomfort, and other times out of love. Our motivations are mixed.

But we’re always serving someone or something. We’re always wearing a yoke of some sort or another.

And so when Jesus said, “Come to me, and take my yoke upon you,” I don’t think the emphasis was on the word yoke. I think the emphasis was on the word my. Come to me, and take my yoke upon you. Jesus isn’t calling us from some carefree life of freedom to take on a yoke and start serving him. He’s calling us to take off whatever yoke we’re already wearing, and take on his instead. Because, as he said, his yoke is easy, and his burden is light.

And wearing his yoke, we find that there is freedom. The yoke that Jesus offers us gives us freedom and hope and peace. And one of the ways his yoke offers this to us is through the gift of community.

Yokes are generally intended for two animals. The two animals, whether oxen or something else, are yoked together to make the work easier for both of them. Two oxen can pull more weight, more effectively than one. And that’s true for people too.

If we take on Jesus’ yoke, we find that we are joined with other people. With each other here in our church community, and with each other outside the church. We are joined not only with one other person, like a literal yoke, but with so many others, with uncountable others, and we work together to do Jesus’ work in the world.

And that means that in our faith life, independence is never the goal. We aren’t made to be on our own, making our own way with nobody else. And the goal isn’t dependence, each of us separately relying on God directly for everything. No, the goal is interdependence, relying on one another, and allowing others to rely on us, all of us relying ultimately on God.

And so maybe one way to practice taking Christ’s yoke upon us is to deliberately live interdependently. To deliberately live in such a way that other people are relying on us, and at the same time, we are relying on other people. That’s not easy. For so many of us, it’s hard to ask for help. It’s hard to accept that we need help. But we do – it’s how we were designed, how we were made. It’s part of who we are. Accepting help isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of faith, faith that God will provide, and that through that providing, we will be able to pass it on as well.

So I encourage you to try this this week. Just once this week, accept help from someone. Accept help, and pay attention to how that feels. Accept help, take Christ’s yoke upon you, and live abundantly.

Photo by Paul Jai on Unsplash