I Need A Sweeter Yoke

Every morning I place my bare feet firm on the ground and fight for the day God will tether my home to His, for good.

Even with my broken wings.


I had a really good talk with my dad yesterday, he picked me up like I was his little girl again — as in he picked me up from my house and we drove to get my mama — I know you were confused.

He reminded me that it’s in the struggle that we find our greatest strength. We find the necessity to suit up, armor on, have our arrows ready and our eyes fixed.

It’s in the struggle that we find Jesus.

Do you live life weighed down?

I liked to think that my acute awareness of sin, my sensitivity to His broken heart, my own calloused wrestling, my eyes on the struggle and my shoulders a bit tired, had to point to my understanding of a need for Christ.

Right? Because that would make my long suffering meaningful and the day to day a little less daunting.

Except, I think I’ve been wrong for a long time and I’m going through a tough pruning…

Because my joy often looks conditional, when His death calls me into unconditional.

Where does your struggle or suffering lie?

God is so merciful to gently remind me that this is our reality until He brings us home.

I’ve always known it, but I think I’m coming to different terms with it.

Maybe it’s because I’m now a mother. Maybe it’s because I’m married to an imperfect man, and he, a messy wife. Maybe it’s because my lens for the mess of the world has become clearer. Or maybe it’s because I found a gray hair the other day.

They fixed their eyes and wants on what wasn’t theirs to have, and since then our everything is broken.

But but but

I am already restored on the other end of all of this.

Heaven is waiting for me.

On the other end of my anxious tendencies.

On the other end of the chatter its easy to get swept into.

On the other end of my bitter roots.

On the other end of my doubts of men.

On the other end of my laziness.

On the other end of my selfish attitude.

On the other end of my narrow lens.

On the other end of my comparison and retreat.

On the other end of my anger.

On the other end of saying too much or too little.

On the other end of my disrespect.

On the other end of my critical eyes.

I am restored to full.

I’ve been washing our home in these lyrics and two lines in it say

I am strong and full of life…I was born into freedom, I was made to fly




I sing these words out loud, I kid you not, I feel physically stronger, my heart beats faster and the light in the room is brighter.

There is so much hope when we know our life began in strength and free.

When we know that it starts and ends in freedom with the God who gave us wings.

This week I’ve been humbled more to my long suffering. It’s not that the suffering is wrong or weak, the suffering is our reality, the suffering reflects the need.

I see myself, as the bird whose wing is clipped and broken, by some harsh contact with the world. Maybe out of its own stupidity or distraction, maybe by forces unpredictable, maybe even at birth cracked through the shell.

It was still made to fly.

We try so hard to fly on our own, in the brokenness.

To carry the burden of what is broken.

At least I do, and I think that’s where the long suffering is confused.

Jesus says,

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. 

(Matthew 11:28-30)

He invites us into intimacy, He will tenderly carry us through the hard, through a world yoked to sin, all the way home.

We will inevitable long suffer in this bruised and tainted and groaning world.

But when we say yes to Jesus carrying us, even on a clipped wing, we can still know fullness of life.

He is the Hope that has already restored our long suffering.

He is the reason that our long suffering can still know joy, confidence, peace abiding, deeper love and freedom,

even in this home as we wait on the next.

So as I seek to fly higher in His light hands, to be yoked steadfast to Him, I’m praying you on to do the same, bare feet firm on the ground each morning.

I will wake up alive.

I will own the free.

I will pray pray pray.

I will live in the struggle, aware of my need.

I will place my feet firm on the ground,

Naked and unashamed, just as He intended. 


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