A Lift for the Overloaded

THIS world is full of overloaded people. Some are oppressed with pecuniary anxieties; their incomes have fallen below their outgoes, or their investments have taken to themselves wings. Some are burdened with solicitude for loved ones who are sick, and still more with painful griefs over the wayward and the wandering. A grievous burden of spiritual despondency weighs down another; and still another is intensely anxious for the unconverted of his parish, or his Sunday-school class. God only knoweth how many of his children are overloaded, and what maimer of loads they are carrying. Each one thinks his burden is the biggest. “Don’t talk to me about your troubles,” says the poor brother to the rich one. “You never know what it is to be without a dollar to pay your rent, or to foot the bill of your sick wife’s physician and medicines.’’7 “Ah,” replies the other, “I could bear poverty if I only had my health again/7 — or, “I could endure any thing if my poor wandering boy were restored to me and to my Saviour.” And so each troubled man or woman goes on, unburdening his mind to some other, without getting one atom of relief.

Why, in the name of common sense and Christianity, do they not really unburthen themselves in very deed, by rolling off the crushing load? Where? On whom? Here is the answer, in this golden line, “Cast thy burthen upon the Lord and he shall sustain thee.” There is a twin-passage to this in the New Testament, which is, if possible, still more precious. Peter wrote it, but the Holy Spirit gave it to him. “Casting all your care upon him, for he careth for you.”

The word “care” in this passage does not describe a wise forethought for the future, or the proper solicitudes of affection. The

Greek word signifies anxiety. It is about equivalent to our homely word “worry.” Roll your load of worries over upon God! The reason given is exceedingly touching. “For he takes an interest in you.” There is a still sweeter translation of this line. It is this, “For he has you on his heart.” Beautiful thought — blessed thought! The infinite God of the universe has poor frail diminutive me on his heart! My big load is less than a feather’s weight to him. He can carry it and me besides, and a myriad more such weaklings also. Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. He remembers that we are but dust.

We are playing with our little three-year-old on the sea-beach, and the young naturalist has crammed his pockets and filled his apron with shells, and sea-washed stones. We offer to take them; but the youngster is afraid to lose them, and insists on lugging the load. By and by he gives out, and we just shoulder him up and while his head lies sleeping on our neck, we slip his treasures into our pockets. His first cry wjien he wakes is, “Papa, I have lost all my pretty shells!” “No! my boy! the load was too heavy for you. It tired you out. Here are your shells and the bright stones. Papa has kept them all for you.” That boy has got one of his first lessons in faith.

Now just what I do for my wee weakling who can not carry his load, my blessed heavenly Father offers to do for me. He says to me, “Give me your burden.” The Almighty Ruler of the Universe, who is wise in counsel and wonderful in working; the God who piloted Noah and all his precious freight who sent his messenger-birds to Elijah by the brookside; who quieted Daniel among the ravening beasts, and calmed Paul in the raging storm, he says to me, “Roll your anxieties over on me. I have you on my heart.” But practically our answer to this loving offer of our God is, “No! we won’t trust it to any one. It is our own trouble; nobody can carry it but ourselves.” What fools!

Just imagine a weary, foot-sore traveller, tugging along with his pack on a hot summer day. A wagon comes up, and the kind-hearted owner calls out, “Friend! you look tired. Toss that pack into my wagon. I am going your way.” But the wayfarer eyeing him suspiciously, mutters to himself, “He wants to steal it”; or else obstinately replies, “I am obliged to you, sir, but I can carry my own luggage.” We laugh at the preposterous folly of this obstinate fellow, and then repeat the same insane sin against our loving Lord. Oh! fools, and slow of heart to believe!

For this is just the clearest exercise of faith. When God says to us, Give me your load, trust me, what you can not do, I will do for you, he puts our faith to one of the strongest tests. He never consents to carry our burdens unless we give them to him. Jesus never agrees to bear the sinner’s sins until the sinner has repented and has accepted him gladly as the burden -bearer. God’s offer is to lighten our loads by putting himself, as it were, into our hearts, and under the load. He then becomes our strength — a strength equal to the day. This is a supernatural work. This is what is meant by 11 grace sufficient.” This is the result of an indwelling Christ. He puts his right arm beneath us.

This blessed trust brings inward quietness. The more entirely and simply and implicitly we trust, the more we rest. As the baby drops over upon mother’s bosom into sweet repose, so God giveth his beloved sleep. Not sleep from work; but sleep from worry.

Work is strengthening. But worry frets and fevers us. It chafes our devotions. Like to ague-fever it consumes our strength. Paul the giant worker, who laid the foundation of Christ’s kingdom from Jerusalem to Rome, and who had “the care of all the churches” in his loving heart, never seems to have chafed himself with a moment’s worry. He warned sinners night and day with tears, but they were such tears of pity as Jesus shed. “Be anxious for nothing, brethren!” was his calm counsel to the comrades of his glorious struggle. He was doing God’s work, and he knew that God would take care of him until that work was finished. He knew whom he had believed, and whom he was serving, and cared not whether duty led him to a palace or a prison. He evidently held that doubt and vexation and worry are sins, and are as thoroughly to be resisted as any other temptations of the Devil.

And now if my blessed Master has my poor work — my parish, my household, or my Sabbath class — upon his divine heart, why should I worry? If Christ is at the helm, why should I be running about the deck in distress, lest the vessel sink? If God lets you and me labor for him in vain, it is his loss more than ours. Duty belongs to us; results belong to him. Then let us work — and wait — and trust — a,nd leave our loads with Jesus.

The Princess Elizabeth, of England, was found dead, with her head resting on her Bible, open at these words, “Come unto me, all ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’’ So may we fall asleep at last when the day’s work for Jesus is over, and wake up in heaven to find ourselves in the delicious rest that remaineth for the people of God!