My two-year-old daughter is all toddler: always on the move, bouncing from one thing to the next. She races through the house, pretends to dance ballet, and climbs into the laundry basket asking me or her father to play “Blastoff!” (quite the workout for us grownups, if you can imagine the game implied by the title). While I love her energy and cherish the blessing of watching her grow, I sometimes miss the long days of cuddling her as a baby when she depended wholly upon me to hold her and move her where she needed to go. 

Yet there are still sweet moments in which she needs those cuddles! Recently, while I was speaking with another adult, Callie accidentally backed into the wall behind her quite forcefully, bonking her head and whole body against it. She didn’t cry and didn’t seem to be physically hurt, but I could see tears well up in her eyes as she quietly came over and leaned against me. I picked her up and felt her rest her whole weight - body, legs, arms, and head - against me. I could tell she was embarrassed about the accidental wall-bonking, but I loved, loved, loved how she just needed me to hold her in that moment. 

I can certainly relate to what Callie felt in that moment, and maybe you can too. 

Big feelings stemming, not from accidental wall-bonks, but perhaps from difficult moments and memories. Embarrassment or shame from past mistakes or missteps. Failure in relationships or other stewardship entrusted. Grief from broken dreams, from lost loved ones, lost babies. Other times simply feeling burdened, broken, worried, or confused. We could make an infinitely long list of words that weigh so much. Words that not only describe emotion, but have a physical feeling attached to them. 

Our souls can carry so much weight. 

The array of human emotions and experience is vast, is it not? The list of heavy things we carry can be very long. How often I feel as Callie did, needing a place to come and to rest my whole weight. Safely. Securely. Trustingly. My soul’s carriage. My whole weight.

And so often I forget…

…That the very same mighty King Jesus, Who conquered my sin and death and the grave

…The same King Jesus seated at the right hand of God, with authority over all creation

…Kindly, lovingly, gently offers Himself, to come and rest my whole weight. My whole weight against Him.

“Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.”

- Matthew 11:28-30

“Have you never heard? Have you never understood? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of all the earth. He never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.”

- Isaiah 40:28-31

Oh my soul, did you hear that? He will give you rest. His burden is light. He never grows weak or weary. He is the everlasting God. He does not promise ease or life without pain or burdens, but how sweet is this invitation and this comfort from the Almighty King of Heaven! Why don’t we come to Him more? Why do we try to shoulder the heavy weight of life apart from Him? How different would we be if we were to come to Him and lean our whole weight into Him as a small child in need of comfort? 

Would our souls feel lighter, lifted by the hope and power of Jesus?

If I long to hold and comfort my sweet little girl after her accidental wall-bonking, how much more does our loving, gentle Savior long to pick us up and give us true rest, true comfort?

What have I to dread, what have I to fear,

Leaning on the everlasting arms;

I have blessed peace with my Lord so near,

Leaning on the everlasting arms.

Leaning, leaning,

Safe and secure from all alarms;

Leaning, leaning,

Leaning on the everlasting arms.

 (Hymn by Anthony Showalter and Elisha Hoffman)