Part II
page one
Come unto Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart; and you shall find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My load is light. Matthew 11: 28-29 NAS
From just about day one, of everything life seemed to demand of me, I was unable to deliver. It was an impossible burden, more than I was capable of. I was given a hammer and then told to sew. Visualize that; given a hammer and told to sew. That’s as absurd as giving a child a needle and telling them to build a house. It was anything but easy. Unfortunately, traditional thought patterns seemed to rule the sensory air waves and the sensory venue was where pretty much everyone got their information.
I was the pile of filthy rags. I was the virgin who didn’t have oil in her lamp. I was the servant who buried his talent. I was the fig tree that didn’t produce figs. I was the dog that returned to its vomit. I was the apostle who fell asleep in the boat. I was the friend who said I never knew you. I was the foolish man who built on the sand. I was the woman caught in adultery. When told to go into all the world and preach the Gospel, I was the one who stayed home. I was the seed sewn on the hard path, the stony ground and in the thorny briars. I was the one who asked, but didn’t have enough faith to receive. I was the boy who when hungry and thirsty asked for bread and water, only to be given a stone and vinegar. I was the one who lit a lamp and hid it. I was the sparrow who, while under the watchful eye of God, became food for the sparrow hawk. My yoke was not easy and my burden most definitely was not light. I could go on and on and on. I won’t. For some reason, when others watered down what was spoken from the pulpit, I believed it and internalized it deep within my psyche. Long before I was school age, this internalization had fostered a Self-rejection neurosis of crippling proportions. No one who knows me denies the fact I was painfully shy; make that, agonizingly shy; behaviorally obvious by age three.
There are dangers in the reading of someone else’s letters as if they were meant for you. One size has never fit all. During my struggle I wrote a song with this lyric in it: “If He wants to talk to me, why would He say it to you?” It just didn’t make sense to me, because it doesn’t make sense.
If your yoke is difficult and your load is heavy, if what the powers that be insist you do, is more than you are capable of doing, if what this world demands you do, leaves you worn, weary and depressed, it isn’t MotherFather, it isn't God, telling you to do it, and unfortunately, it seems, somebody is taking you for a ride. Their intentions may be noble, but regardless of how wide or twisted and narrow the road is, it is a dead end. But watch out! Ease and lightness do not necessarily signify the correct yoke or the correct load. But difficulty and heaviness, impossible demands and depression, do signify the unwholesome yoke, the unwholesome load, and the voice of something other than MotherFather.
Forever striving to be who and what you are not, is a most merciless burden. Like quicksand, the more you strive, the deeper and deeper you sink. Heavier and heavier doses of Self-rejection is a sure path to mental illness. Striving produces pretense and pretense decays into a false identity. We all want to look wholesome and healthy. Nobody wants others to see us picking our noses and eating it. We all want to look perfect. But, sorry folks! We aren’t. Accept it. We are not perfect. Nope, we’re not. Well, we're actually perfectly imperfect! The Creator knows all that. MotherFather is no dummy. What’s more, if MotherFather is unequivocally in control of the action, for any one single point in time, you are exactly as MotherFather intended you to be. If MotherFather didn’t want you to be exactly as you presently are, MotherFather would not have planned it this way. That should reduce the pressure a bit.
But, MotherFather really does not care if you eat your boogers, mess your pants or cry incessantly. Sorry church. MotherFather does not care how many times Their little infants mess their pants, burp all over their new bibs, wake Them up during the middle of the night, pee Them in the face when They’re changing the diaper. MotherFather delights in us. MotherFather provides for us the Perfect Love our earthly parents were never able to provide. MotherFather has chosen to dwell in each and every one of us. You can not shake Them any more than you can negate the reality of your earthly parents. Like it or not, even the atheist is stuck with MotherFather’s Love. You can’t poop enough for MotherFather to give up changing your diapers. Regardless of what you have heard from your good intentioned brothers and sisters, MotherFather is tickled pink when you do what you do. MotherFather laughs when the oozy poop squeezes out the side of your diapers and gets on Their new linen shirt. Honest. MotherFather will hold you in Their arms as a newborn for eternity if that is what you want. If you grow up, and simply having MotherFather tucked cozily inside is enough, They’re good for that, too.
All this religion stuff has really put a strange twist in the rope. It’s part of The Equation, so there must be a purpose. But, it beats me what it is. MotherFather could no more explain the purpose of Their creation to me, to us, than we could explain the concept of time to a pendulum. Ain’t gonna happen. If we can think it, it ain’t it. So, quit thinking purpose. Just saturate yourself in Their Absolutely Unconditional Love until it oozes from every pore in your body. Hey, MotherFather’s doing it all. We’re just along for the ride. Do these thoughts mean I’m crazy? Possibly, but who cares. MotherFather Loves me and nothing else much matters. Now, that’s an easy yoke and a light burden!
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