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Passing Under the Yoke
She pushed her way through the throng which had congregated on deck just to catch a glimpse. Her journey was long. Some might say even perilous. There, in the distance, through the oceans of nothing but fog, it stood. A beacon of light. The Mother of Exiles. Tears welled up and fell from her eyes. She was home.
In 1883, Emma Lazarus, a descendant of Portuguese Jews who had fled the Inquisition and found sanctuary in Manhattan, wrote a sonnet expressing what the Statue of Liberty meant to her. Engraved on a bronze plaque mounted inside the lower level of the statue’s pedestal are these words:
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempesttost to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Emma Lazarus, “The New Colossus”
To many immigrants, these words were inviting. A fresh start. Freedom at last. In their eyes, this was truly a land of opportunity. They were refugees no more. The homeless were home. Rest was now in their grasp.
But there’s another invitation. One that calls to those who are heavy laden to rest. An appeal unlike any in the annals of history. With far more reaching implications.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11.28
Come. Such a small word. Brokenhearted? Come. Obstacles you face feel insurmountable? Come. The path you are on seems dark and dreary with no end in sight? Come. Rest awaits.
Whether we realize it or not, sin is a burden that weighs heavy on our souls. It estranges our relationship with the Father. It alienates us. Separates us. We are indeed unworthy to be in His presence. Hopelessness weighs us down like ironclad shackles. We’ve become enslaved by the wiles of the tempter. Unable to escape bondage, we are forever lost. Refugees longing for home. And yet, despite our frailties. Despite our deplorable, repugnant condition, heaven came down and extended His hand. Reconciliation offered at a time when all was lost.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me,”
Matthew 11.29a
Yoke. On the surface it’s a peculiar metaphor, isn’t it? Especially when viewed in context of our world today. Too many of us fail to grasp the figurative meaning since we don’t come from an agrarian lifestyle. But the Jews of that day understood completely. So did the Gentiles.
Consider that around 450 years before Christ, in the mountains east of the ancient region of Latium, there lived a rather wild people called Aequians, who were often at war with the Romans. On one occasion, the Romans quickly overpowered them, resulting in cries from the Aequians for their lives to be spared. Cincinnatus did indeed spare their lives, but he made them “pass under the yoke.” This particular yoke was comprised of three spears, with the one on top only a few feet from the ground. Each man had to bend his head as they were made to pass under it, while the Romans jeered and taunted at them.
“Having to pass under the yoke was regarded as the greatest disgrace that could happen to soldiers. Many much preferred to suffer death. The practice has given to our language the word ‘subjugate,’ meaning to subdue or conquer, from the Latin words ‘sub,’ under and ‘jugum,’ yoke."
John H Haaren and A.B. Poland, “Famous Men of Rome”
Is this what the Lord meant? A picture of subjugation with jeers and taunts? Knowing what we know from the entirety of Scripture, it can't be. The thought is absurd at best. But it’s this imagery of subjection, service and bondage that is most revealing. The prophet Jeremiah uses this same picture as he describes sin as a yoke or bondage around one’s neck (Lamentations 1.14). Similar thoughts are found even by Peter as he describes those who are “slaves of corruption” and the entanglement we find ourselves in when mired in sin (2 Peter 2.18-21). We are enslaved. Subjugated. Sometimes it’s the subtle sinful attitudes that we find ourselves “yoked to” today. And it’s that subtlety that catches us off guard as we try to appear Christ-like when in actuality we are still in bondage to sin.
As I read this, I am reminded of a kitten, who, when playing with a ball of yarn, unwinds it over and over again until the point where the kitten is entangled in string and must struggle to free itself from the predicament she now finds herself in. Such is the way of sin… it entangles us and becomes a yoke that takes our strength from us and drags us down.
But His yoke is different, isn’t it? Someone once said that worry, guilt and fear are the ugly sisters of the soul. Where you find one, you’ll soon find the others. They drain and defeat us. But our Lord offers something better. Yes, the Lord calls us to submit to the will of the Father like He did. To take on His yoke and learn of Him. The One who emptied Himself and took on the form of a servant. And became obedient to the point of death (Philippians 2.5-8). The symbolism of humility and obedience on our part is clear. Bearing the yoke is good ... on par with waiting quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.
It is good for a man that he bear
the yoke in his youth.
Lamentations 3.25-27
And Jesus’ yoke is easy, not because it makes lighter demands, but because of what it represents – a relationship entered into between us as disciples and One who is “gentle and lowly in heart.” Who would not want to be yoked to such a One?!
“For I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Matthew 11.29b-30
What a paradox! Freedom from the bondage of sin that leads us to becoming slaves of righteousness (Romans 6.17-18). Burdens are truly lifted at Calvary. Will the yoke of Christ release us from obligations? No… in fact in some sense the yoke of Jesus demands more (Matthew 5.20). Absolute holiness. Our only hope is to stop hoping in ourselves. And bend our heads, subjecting ourselves to His authority as Lord. He ransomed us. We can do no less.
Lazarus described the entry to America as the golden door. Centuries before, Jesus described Himself is THE door (John 10.9). Through Him we will find green pastures. Through Him we are granted an entrance into the very presence of the Father. Saving to the uttermost those who come to God through Him (Hebrews 7.25). Our Lord invites us still. He is the light that shines forth in the darkness.
O heart bowed down with sorrow! O eyes that long for sight! There's gladness in believing; in Jesus there is light.
Passing under His yoke.
It’s a welcoming invitation. He longs for our allegiance. Our submission. Our trust. His commandments are not burdensome (1 John 5.3). It’s a lighter, better yoke.
And one that leads to rest.
