Chris Taylor’s Sermon – 7/6/08
Come to Me
Matthew 11:25-30
Jesus makes an extraordinary claim in the opening verses of our text this morning, v. 27, “All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”
“All things,” or in Greek “panta” meaning “everything”… Everything there is to know of God “[has] been handed over to me by my Father. “If you want to know God,” he is saying, “you have to come through me.” I am the source of revelation.
Now if anyone else made such a claim we would justifiably assume that he or she had lost their mind. Jesus doesn’t leave us any middle ground here. It is always tempting to approach Jesus from our own frame of reference; to think of him as a great teacher or a great prophet. But Jesus doesn’t leave us that option. The things that he says about himself are simply too incredible.
Take a look at the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel according to John, verse 6. Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” It is precisely the same message as in our text. Philip, one of the disciples (and perhaps speaking for many of us), isn’t quite ready to go there with him, v. 8, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Show us and we will believe.
Jesus responds, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father.” Do you see what I’m talking about? Either Jesus is a supremely deluded egotist, cult-like and a charlatan, or he is indeed the Son of God – God in the form of human flesh. There is no going for that comfortable middle space of teacher or prophet. Either we accept it all, or we reject him completely.
Part of the evidence that supports Jesus’ claims was the response of those who knew him best; his disciples and followers. There was no doubt in their minds as to his nature. Turn back to chapter one. In the prologue to his Gospel, John speaks of Jesus as the Word, v. 1, “And the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Again, verse 18, “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.”
The Apostle Paul says exactly the same thing, Col. 1: 15, “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation… [v. 19] For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell…” And these followers backed up their conviction with the very quality of their lives. They had nothing to gain by proclaiming this message. Just the opposite. They suffered immensely for it – they were ostracized, beaten, even put to death for the sake of the gospel. But they never hesitated.
When a group from our church was in Greece a couple of months ago we stood in the stadium in Ephesus where Paul once defended the Gospel in front of an angry mob. There was no way for Paul to know whether that mob might turn violent, but he didn’t flinch. He stood there amid their shouts and jeers and boldly proclaimed the message with which he had been entrusted. It was on that very same spot in the centuries that followed that other Christians would be martyred rather than renounce the faith that had come to mean so much to them.
Those early Christians paid the price because they believed in Jesus’ claims. Their faith, in turn, becomes a great encouragement for all of us. Do you want to know God? Then look to Jesus, the Father’s only Son.
It is this Christological claim, this belief that everything of the Father has been given to the Son, that becomes the foundation for the beautiful invitation that now follows. “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
How can Jesus promise us rest no matter what we might be facing? He can make the promise because of who he is; because of his very nature as God in the form of human flesh.
Yet if the foundation for the promise lies in Jesus’ nature, its realization lies in our own choices. The key to the promise is in that first word, “Come.” The invitation is there. It is for every one of us. But if we leave it lying on the table, it isn’t going to have any impact on our lives. It is not enough to simply acknowledge the invitation. To experience it, and to receive its promise, we have to accept it. We have to actually go.
That means leaving some other things behind. You can’t go to Philadelphia and Chicago at the same time. It is one or the other. As soon as we say “yes” to one city, we are saying “no” to the other. In the same way, as soon as we say “yes” to Jesus, we are saying “no” to all the other possibilities in this life; all those other things that beckon us and tempt us to make them our goal.
This doesn’t mean we can’t be wealthy or successful. It doesn’t mean we aren’t going to have any fun, or enjoy beating someone in a round of golf. What it does mean is that we hold these other things loosely. They aren’t our goal. They are, rather, blessings that may or may not come our way as we move towards our real goal which is Jesus Christ.
Some of you may have seen the video clip of that college women’s softball game in which a player tore something as she was rounding first base after hitting a home run. The best she could do was crawl back to first base. If she couldn’t make it around the bases the home run would be nullified. It wouldn’t count. It was at this point that two women from the opposing team went over and picked that injured player up in their arms. They carried her around the bases, one base at a time, allowing her to touch each one along the way. They brought her home.
For those women, doing the right thing – the caring thing – was more important than winning the game. That’s what we are talking about here. That’s what it means to put Jesus first. It is making Jesus our goal, and letting all the rest of it – the winning or the losing – take care of itself.
Jesus promises rest. He promises refreshment. He says his yoke is easy and his burden is light. But the reality is that the vast majority of us instinctively pull away from the idea of submitting to someone else’s control. It is counter-intuitive. Who could possibly have our best interests at heart more than we ourselves?
The question, then, is whether all that control has really gotten us where we want to go. Has it satisfied the deepest longings of our hearts?
If you are feeling beaten down, overcome with depression or with despair, Jesus is saying, “Come to me.” If you’ve been struggling with some addiction, if in spite of all your good intentions you keep finding yourself falling down – dragged into the mire of defeat and shame – Jesus is saying, “Come to me.” If, in spite of all your success, you are still looking for some sense of meaning and of significance… if you long to fill that empty place within, then Jesus is saying, “Come to me.”
For hundreds of years it was the custom in certain harbors around the world for the captains of great ships to turn their vessels over to harbor pilots as they neared the port. They may have taken their ships across vast oceans and through terrible storms, but for all their talent and all their experience, these captains realized that it was the pilots who knew those harbors best. And so they submitted to the pilot’s yoke. They allowed this other to completely control the ship and all its contents. They did it because they knew the pilot could best guide them safely home.
“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Here is the promise of that rest that we’ve been looking for. Here is Jesus’ promise that if we will just submit our lives to his guidance and his control, he will guide us safely home.