From Stephen E. Robinson and his book ‘Believing Christ’:
Several years ago, as I read Matthew 11:28-30, about Jesus’ yoke being easy and his burden being light, to a New Testament class, a female student at the back of the class interrupted me with loud “Ha!” When I invited her to explain what she meant by her outburst, she said, “His yoke is easy? His burden light is either a recent convert or brain-dead.”
Now this sister was a divorced mother of several children trying to get a better life for her and her family. She continued: ‘I used to try to do everything the Church wanted, but I finally gave up. They always wanted more than I had. I can’t help that I am broke, or a single parent with two jobs trying to go to school full-time. I can’t do what other Saints can, and they always want more out of me, more time, more talent, more money, more commitment—and I just don’t have more to give. The demands of the Church exceed my supply.”
Why does the Church sometimes seem to demand more of me than I think I can do? Why is there always so much pressure for me to be and to do and to give more? Well, first of all we’ve got to remember that perfection is the goal, a real goal and we should be working with all our best efforts. We just need to remember at the same time that our salvation is not hanging in the balance.
For example, when I was in high school, I used to work out in the weight room. In those days of free weights, a spotter always stood next to the bench to grab the bar when I got in trouble. But invariably there was a little ritual exchange, familiar to all who have worked out in a gym, that went like this. After doing all the repetitions with the barbell that I was able to, being on the brink of collapse, I would say to the spotter, “Take it!’ But the spotter would always say, “No, do one more!” Usually by reaching down deep, I could, in fact, manage one more rep, after which I would say, “OK, take it!” Again the spotter would say, “No, do one more.” Now understand that no matter how many times I did “just one more” by whatever super human effort, when that one was done, the spotter would still say, “Just one more!” This would continue until my muscles finally gave out and then the spotter would grab the bar.
Now when this would happen, I was not so naive as to say, “I’m humiliated, embarrassed and offended. You wanted one more rep and I couldn’t do it. You ask too much or me; you always want more than I can give. I can’t cope with your demands. I’m going home and never coming back.” I didn’t feel this way because in a gym both the spotters and the lifters understand that the real power is gained on the last repetition, on the thin edge between what one can do and what one can’t. By coaxing me into working at the limits of my abilities, the spotter helped me to develop the power I was seeking. There was never embarrassment that I couldn’t do that last rep, and no one seriously expected it, but I did get the satisfaction of knowing that I had worked out to the limits of my strength and that it was making me stronger. I believe the same principle can be applied to the seemingly heavy demands of the Church.~Stephen E. Robinson, ‘Believing Christ (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book: 1992), p. 177-181 (Dwarsligger edition) Continued . . .
