Just Bethany

Reinventing myself

Take It to the Cross

How many times do we hear—or say—that phrase and not know how to take our burdens to the cross and leave them there?

“Rising Cairn” by Celeste Roberge

I connected immediately with this sculpture, “Rising Cairn” by Celeste Roberge, the first time I saw its image. Others have called it “The Weight of Grief,” and that’s what I see. Grief, bitterness, struggles, loneliness, loss, all these things weigh us down. It’s not just all in the mind or in the heart; hard things take their toll physically too. 

All this weight that we carry can make daily living difficult. Imagine carrying a 30-pound backpack on your back all day, every day. Sounds exhausting, right? Well, that’s what we do when we don’t let Christ carry our spiritual and emotional burdens for us. 

I’ve tried to envision how free I would feel to be rid of all the weights I carry. I can picture Christian from Pilgrim’s Progress stumbling toward the cross. As he nears it and lifts his eyes to see the symbol of his Savior’s love, the weights fall right off his back. Can you imagine the freedom and lightness he felt? Can you imagine the freedom and lightness you and I would feel if we could only lay down our rock loads at the foot of the cross.

We can!! In order to help those of us (me) without an imagination, I’ve thought of doing this physically, but I haven’t yet. Gather up a bunch of rocks, use a sharpie to write a burden on each one—whatever’s weighing down me heart and mind and causing me to be bent over with grief. Take those rocks, those burdens to the cross and set them down on the ground beside it. I imagine Jesus bending over and picking up those rocks and in exchange giving me His yoke of peace, love, and grace. How much lighter I would feel! Those aren’t burdens at all; they’re blessings!

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, 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 11:28-30 ESV

Once we’ve laid our burdens down at the foot of the cross, we can’t pick them up again. Not that I would want to, but we are creatures of habit. 

Recently when I was struggling with a particular issue with one of my children, I was keeping it all inside and not telling anyone about it—even my closest friends. I was so crushed by this burden—just like the person depicted in the “Rising Cairn” sculpture—that I couldn’t focus on anything else. I was filled with anxiety and grief. My dad finally encouraged me to let it go, to let others help me carry that burden to the Lord. It was hard to share what I felt like was my failing as a mother, but I did. It took several months of prayers, tears, and sharing with friends who carried me to Jesus, but I have let it go (mostly). When I dwell on this issue, I still cry. I pray constantly for this problem. But I don’t carry the burden of it around with me, and in that, I am free. 

You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free

John 8:32 ESV

I have other burdens that I’m working on releasing, but sometimes I feel like the rocks are superglued to my hand! Why do I hold onto my burdens instead of loosing the backpack straps and letting the whole bag fall to the ground at the cross as Christian did? I don’t know! But I’m working on it, and I’m inviting Jesus to help me release these burdens. 

What rocks are superglued to your hands? What burdens are in your backpack weighing you down? Take them to the cross and leave them there, friend! If you need someone to pray with you about your cares, let me know.

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The Loneliness in Suffering

The thing with trials is that they are compounded by loneliness. Many trials are so individualized that no one can fully share in the suffering with you. No one else feels exactly the same way you do. No one else responds the same way to similar events. No one else can bear the weight of feeling through the emotions that accompany your suffering. No one else can cry your tears. So even if you’re blessed enough to have someone’s arm around your shoulders during the tough times, you still have to walk through that dark valley alone.

No one else can cry your tears.

Sure, others have gone through similar trials, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re hurting right now. Having someone say, “I’ve been there; it sucks, but you’ll make it through,” is sometimes helpful. Even better, having someone just sitting beside you silently is comforting. But it’s not enough.

But Christ is enough. As the only fully divine AND fully human being, He understands what we’re going through in ways that no one else can. He was rejected, mocked, and put to death, which led to being separated from God the Father – the ultimate torture. That means He understands when our kids reject our values (which feels intensely personal). He understands when others offer empty platitudes that feel like mockery. He understands separation from the ones who matter most to us, whether by death or by divorce. Our souls crave this deep level of understanding when we are suffering.

Even better than just knowing that Jesus understands our sufferings like no one else does is the fact that He’s offered to switch burdens with us. Matthew 11:28-30 (ESV) promises us rest if we can let go of the weights that are dragging us down:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, 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 will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Trust me, I know how hard it is to give my burden to Christ. It feels more like He’s prying my fingers open one by one and peeling that heartache back. But it’s worth it. You’ll feel better, I promise.

Leave me a comment with your prayer request, and I will spend time sharing your burden with the Lord. Sharing your heartaches with others who will share them with the One who understands will lighten your load. Try it.

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Me Too . . . Again

FindYourVoiceLinkup

When I logged back into my lonely blog, I discovered this half-written post. I don’t remember starting it, but it’s still applicable, so I cleaned it up and posted it.

My biggest fear when it comes to sharing my story is that I’ll be judged, condemned, and rejected. What’s the worst thing that could happen if I share parts of my story? I’ll find out that maybe some people weren’t true friends. Or maybe I’ll find out that some people are gossips. Those discoveries hurt. A lot. I’ve had those things happen, and I survived.

But I’ve also discovered that others have gone and are going through the same things that I am. That makes the process a little less lonely. And when I’m able to focus on helping someone else, my current problems seem to diminish just a bit. I feel like maybe that’s where God’s calling me to go with this blog–helping others who are going through separation and divorce, abuse, job loss, financial loss, home loss, car loss, health loss, reputation loss, friend loss, caring for aging parents, suicidal kids, watching adult children walk away from everything you’ve taught them, being condemned at church, starting over . . . again.

So, how do I get brave enough to give a voice and a face to the story that God’s weaving in my life? First, I waited. The beginning isn’t the time to share. I didn’t even know what was going on myself. I journaled, read, and received counsel from a variety of wise sources in the midst of my storms.

Then I looked for people who have been through what I went through. Somehow, hearing stories with which I could identify made me braver about sharing parts of my story.

Jo Ann’s book, When a Woman Finds Her Voice, was a tremendous help at the beginning, and it helped me to find my voice even while others were suppressing it.

Does this mean I have to share all the gory details (and there are a lot!) of every part of my story? I don’t think so. As always when writing, I need to analyze my audience and purpose, then filter through my story through a more objective lens.

Care to rejoin me? Let’s walk together through this journey called life (shoutout to Prince; yes, I’m totally an 80s girl!).

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