What burdens will you give to Jesus?
Lately, it’s felt as if the weight of the world was resting on my shoulders.
Every day seems fraught with decisions, chaos and uncertainty. All day I move from task to task, knowing the list isn’t going to be finished. When I lie down at night, my mind is full of all the things still needing completion.
As I’ve spent the past few days reading through the Passion account in the gospels, I’ve decided Jesus must have felt the same way.
Sunday he entered Jerusalem with crowds celebrating him, crying out, “Hosanna!” But even as he rested Sunday night in Bethany, he knew the fullness of what was to come.
In the Temple Monday, he cleared out the money changers and challenged them to remember the true reason for their gathering – prayer and purification. As he spoke the words of life, the priests plotted his death. Again, he returned to Bethany to rest.
Day in and day out that week, he told them, again and again, of God’s plan for redemption. He used parables and answered questions about the most important commandment. He pointed to the widow’s gift and declared she had given more than anyone else.
He warned the disciples of the dark days ahead – persecution, tribulation, even of his own death. When, one night in Bethany, he was anointed by a woman and people were (as people do) criticizing both the giver and the gift, Jesus praised the woman and said she’d done something that would never be forgotten.
That was Wednesday night. The Wednesday night before Jesus would be crucified, this nameless woman poured out all she had in worship. She didn’t know, couldn’t possibly have understood what she was doing – the fullness of her actions – but all she had, she gave to Christ. The scorn, ridicule and mocking didn’t keep her from acting.
I’m captivated by her story, this brave woman who poured it all out before Jesus. Just like the widow with her two mites, this woman gave all she had.
Maybe today, on the Wednesday of Holy Week, we need to be more like these women. Maybe we need to take the weights we carry – the worries and fears, the expectations and obligations, the responsibilities and questions, all of it – and lay it down, pour it out, offer it all with humility and honesty to the One who is fully able to carry it all on our behalf.
I want to be like the widow, with my two tiny mites of faith, dropping them confidently into the Master’s care and knowing He will provide. I want to be like the woman, with my alabaster jar full of all my worries, hopes, dreams and fears, broken before the One who is fully able to meet me where I am and draw me close to where he is.
It’s Wednesday. What will you give the Lord?
