Leviticus

Reading through Leviticus, I can't help but think: "This was a lot of work!" Too many guidelines, too many rules—one had to be smart even in worship, lest you mess up and suddenly find yourself offering a mandatory guilt offering for an accidental sin (Leviticus 5:15). And let’s be honest, some of these laws required serious mental gymnastics to remember. Imagine living in fear that touching the wrong lizard (Leviticus 11:29-30) could make you unclean!  

After reading Leviticus 27, where even dedication and redemption had price tags, my brain whispered, "This is exhausting!" No wonder Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:28-30 must have sounded like a breath of fresh air to the Jews:  

> “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.”  

At this point, I imagine a tired Jew wiping the sweat off his forehead, looking at the endless temple regulations, and thinking, "A lighter burden? Sign me up!"  

Jesus makes a few things very clear here:  

1. Take my yoke. (Translation: You're still yoked, just to a better Master.)  

2. Learn from me. (Forget trial and error—He’s got the inside scoop on pleasing the Father.)  

3. Find rest for your soul. (Not just physical rest, but the deep peace of knowing you’re in good hands.)  

Now, here’s the fun part: the yoke and burden are His. Which means He bears most of the load and is responsible for maintenance. Picture a farming yoke—it's always placed on two animals, but one is stronger and more experienced. The newbie? Just tagging along, figuring out the plowing business.  

That’s us. The clumsy newbie, tripping over faith lessons and ministry while Jesus, the pro, keeps the whole thing steady. He’s pulling most of the weight. We’re just learning the rhythm of grace—when to step, when to stop, and most importantly, when to let Him lead. If the yoke gets broken or the load falls off, leave it to Him and follow His lead. When He moves, you move. Where He guides, you follow.  

The only way to mess this up is to fight the yoke owner—insisting on our own direction, trying to out-plow the Master. Imagine an ox trying to teach its owner how to farm. (That’s us arguing with God.)  

But when we submit to His lead, something incredible happens: His strength kicks in where ours fails. His experience with the Father covers our ignorance. His perfection makes up for our weaknesses.  

And suddenly, faith doesn’t feel like Levitical labor camp rules. Instead, it feels like walking alongside a Friend who knows exactly where we’re going.  

Now, instead of sighing, "This is a lot of work!", I find myself smiling, "Ah, this is a partnership!"  

And I’m happy.