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SUBJECT: 23 MAT 11:28-30 Rest, Rest
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Rest, Rest
January 8th, 1871
by
C. H. SPURGEON
(1834-1892)
"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and
lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is
easy, and my burden is light.-- Mat_11:28-30.
We have oft repeated those memorable words, and they have brought
us much comfort; but it is possible that we may never have looked
deeply into them, so as to have seen the fulness of their meaning. The
works of man will seldom bear close inspection. You shall take a
needle which is highly polished, which appears to be without the
slightest inequality upon its surface, and you shall put it under a
microscope, and it will look like a rough bar of iron; but you shall
select what you will from nature, the bark or the leaf of a tree, or the
wing or the foot of an insect, and you shall discover no flaw, magnify it
as much as you will, and gaze upon it as long as you please. So take the
words of man. The first time you hear them they will strike you; you
may hear them again and still admire their sentiment, but you shall
soon weary of their repetition, and call them hackneyed and over-
estimated. The words of Jesus are not so, they never lose their dew,
they never become threadbare. You may ring the changes upon his
words, and never exhaust their music: you may consider them by day
and by night, but familiarity shall not breed contempt. You shall beat
them in the mortar of contemplation, with the pestle of criticism, and
their perfume shall but become the more apparent. Dissect, investigate,
and weigh the Master's teaching word by word, and each syllable will
repay you. When loitering upon the Island of Liddo, off Venice, and
listening to the sound of the city's bells, I thought the music charming
as it floated across the lagune; but when I returned to the city, and sat
down in the centre of the music, in the very midst of all the bells, the
sweetness changed to a horrible clash, the charming sounds were
transformed into a maddening din; not the slightest melody could I
detect in any one bell, while harmony in the whole company of
noisemakers was out of the question. Distance had lent enchantment to
the sound. The words of poets and eloquent writers may, as a whole,
and heard from afar, sound charmingly enough; but how few of them
bear a near and minute investigation! Their belfry rings passably, but
one would soon weary of each separate bell. It is never so with the
divine words of Jesus. You hear them ringing from afar and they are
sweetness itself. When as a sinner, you roamed at midnight like a
traveller lost on the wilds, how sweetly did they call you home! But
now you have reached the house of mercy, you sit and listen to each
distinct note of love's perfect peal, and wonderingly feel that even
angelic harps cannot excel it.
We will, this morning, if we can, conduct you into the inner chambers
of out text, place its words under the microscope, and peer into the
recesses of each sentence. We only wish our microscope were of a
greater magnifying power, and our ability to expound the text more
complete; for there are mines of instruction here. Superficially read,
this royal promise has cheered and encouraged tens of thousands, but
there is a wealth in it which the diligent digger and miner shall alone
discover. Its shallows are cool and refreshing for the lambs, but in its
depths are pearls for which we hope to dive.
Our first head, this morning, is rest: "Come unto me, all ye that labor
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The second head is rest:
"Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in
heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls."
I. Let us begin at the beginning with the first REST, and here we will
make divisions only for the sake of bringing out the sense more clearly.
1. Observe the person invited to receive this first rest: "Come unto me,
all ye that labor and are heavy laden." The word "all" first demands
attention: "All ye that labor." There was need for the insertion of that
wide word. Had not the Saviour said a little before, "I thank thee, O
Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these things
from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to babes?" Some
one who had been listening to the Saviour, might have said, "The
Father, then, has determined to whom he will reveal the Christ; there is
a number chosen, according to the Father's good pleasure, to whom the
gospel is revealed; while from another company it is hidden!" The too
hasty inference, which it seems natural for man to draw from the
doctrine is, "Then there is no invitation for me; there is no hope for me;
I need not listen to the gospel's warnings and invitations." So the
Saviour, as if to answer that discouraging notion, words his invitation
thus, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden." Let it not
be supposed that election excludes any of you from the invitation of
mercy; all of you who labor, are bidden to come. Whatever the great
doctrine of predestination may involve, rest assured that it by no means
narrows or diminishes the extent of gospel invitations. The good news
is to be preached to "every creature" under heaven, and in this
particular passage it is addressed to all the laboring and heavy laden.
The description of the person invited is very full. It describes him both
actively and passively. "All ye that labor"--there is the activity of men
bearing the yoke, and ready to labor after salvation; "heavy laden"--
there is the passive form of their religious condition, they sustain a
burden, and are pressed down, and sorely wearied by the load they
bear. There are to be found many who are actively engaged in seeking
salvation; they believe that if they obey the precepts of the law they
will be saved, and they are endeavoring to the utmost to do them; they
have been told that the performance of certain rites and ceremonies will
also save them, they are performing those with great care; the yoke is
on their shoulders, and they are laboring diligently. Some are laboring
in prayer, some are laboring in sacraments, others in self-denials and
mortifications, but as a class they are awakened to feel the need of
salvation, and they are intensely laboring to save themselves. It is to
these the Saviour addresses his loving admonition: in effect he tells
them, "This is not the way to rest, your self-imposed labors will end in
disappointment; cease your wearisome exertions, and believe in me, for
I will at once give you rest--the rest which my labors have earned for
believers." Very speedily those who are active in self-righteously
working for salvation fall into the passive state, and become burdened;
their labor of itself becomes a burden to them. Besides the burden of
their self-righteous labor, there comes upon them the awful,
tremendous, crushing burden of past sin, and a sense of the wrath of
God which is due to that sin. A soul which has to bear the load of its
own sin, and the load of divine wrath, is indeed heavily laden. Atlas
with the world upon his back had a light load compared with a sinner
upon whom mountains of sin and wrath are piled. Such persons
frequently are burdened, in addition, by fears and apprehensions; some
of them correct, others of them baseless, but anyhow the burden daily
grows. Their active labors do not diminish their passive sufferings. The
acute anguish of their souls will often be increased in proportion as
their endeavors are increased; and while they hope at first that if they
labor industriously they will gradually diminish the mass of their sin, it
happens that their labor adds to their weariness beneath its pressure;
they feel a weight of disappointment, because their labor has not
brought them rest; and a burden of despair, because they fear that
deliverance will never come. Now these are the persons whom the
Saviour calls to himself--those who are actively seeking salvation,
those who are passively bearing the weight of sin and of divine wrath.
It is implied, too, that these are undeserving of rest, for it is said,
"Come unto me, and I will give you rest." A gift is not of merit but of
grace; wages and reward are for those who earn, but a gift is a matter of
charity. O you who feel your unworthiness this morning, who have
been seeking salvation earnestly, and suffering the weight of sin, Jesus
will freely give to you what you cannot earn or purchase, he will give it
as an act of his own free, rich, sovereign mercy; and he is prepared, if
you come to him, to give it to you now, for so has he promised, "Come
unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
2. Notice next, the precept here laid down: "Come." It is not "Learn," it
is not "Take my yoke"--that is in the next verse, and is intended for the
next stage of experience-but in the beginning the word of the Lord is,
"Come unto me," "Come." A simple word, but very full of meaning. To
come is to leave one thing and to advance to another. Come, then, ye
laboring and heavy laden, leave your legal labors, leave your self-
reliant efforts, leave your sins, leave your presumptions, leave all in
which you hitherto have trusted, and come to Jesus, that is, think of,
advance towards, rely upon the Saviour. Let your contemplations think
of him who bore the load of human sin upon the cross of Calvary,
where he was made sin for us. Let your minds consider him who from
his cross hurled the enormous mass of his people's transgressions into a
bottomless sepulchre, where it was buried forever. Think of Jesus, the
divinely-appointed substitute and sacrifice for guilty man. Then, seeing
that he is God's own Son, let faith follow your contemplation; rely
upon him, trust in him as having suffered in your stead, look to him for
the payment of the debt which is due from you to the wrath of God.
This is to come to Jesus. Repentance and faith make up this "Come"--
the repentance which leaves that place where you now stand, the faith
which comes into reliance upon Jesus.
Observe, that the command to "Come" is put in the present tense, and
in the Greek it is intensely present. It might be rendered something like
this: "Hither to me all ye that labor and are heavy laden!" It is a
"Come" which means not "Come to-morrow or next year," but "Now,
at once." Advance, ye slaves, flee from your task-master now! Weary
ones recline on the promise now, and take your rest! Come now! By an
act of instantaneous faith which will bring instantaneous peace, come
and rely upon Jesus, and he will now give you rest. Rest shall at once
follow the exercise of faith. Perform the act of faith now. O may the
eternal Spirit lead some laboring heavy laden soul to come to Jesus,
and to come at this precise moment!
It is "Come unto me." Notice that. The Christ in his personality is to be
trusted in. Not "Come to John, and hear him say, "Repent, for the
kingdom of heaven is at hand,'" for no rest is there. John commands a
preparation for the rest, but he has no rest to give to the soul. Come not
to the Pharisees, who will instruct you in tradition, and in the jots and
tittles of the law; but go past these to Jesus, the man, the God, the
mediator, the Redeemer, the propitiation for human guilt. If you want
rest come to Christ in Gethsemane, to Christ on Calvary, to Christ
risen, to Christ ascended. If you want rest, O weary souls, ye can find it
nowhere until ye come and lay your burdens down at his dear pierced
feet, and find life in looking alone to him. There is the precept then.
Observe it is nothing but that one word, "Come." It is not "Do;" it is not
even "Learn." It is not, "Take up my yoke," that will follow after, but
must never be forced out of its proper place. To obtain the first rest, the
rest which is a matter of gift--all that is asked of you is that you come
to have it. Now, the least thing that charity itself can ask when it gives
away its alms, is that men come for it. Come ye needy, come and
welcome; come and take the rest ye need. Jesus saith to you, "Come
and take what I freely give." Without money come, without merit
come, without preparation come. It is just, come, come now; come as
you are, come with your burden, come with your yoke, though the
yoke be the yoke of the devil, and the burden be the burden of sin, yet
come as you are, and the promise shall be fulfilled to you, "I will give
you rest."
3. Notice next the promise spoken, "I will give you rest." "I will give."
It is a rest that is a gift; not a rest found in our experience by degrees,
but given at once. As I shall have to show you, the next verse speaks of
the rest that is found, wrought out, and discovered; but this is a rest
given. We come to Jesus; we put out the empty hand of faith, and rest
is given us at once most freely. We possess it at once, and it is ours
forever. It is a present rest, rest now; not rest after death; not rest
after a time of probation and growth and advancement; but it is rest given
when we come to Jesus, given there and then. And it is perfect rest too;
for it is not said, nor is it implied, that the rest is incomplete. We do not
read, "I will give you partial rest," but "rest," as much as if there were
no other form of it. It is perfect and complete in itself. In the blood and
righteousness of Jesus our peace is perfect.
I shall not stay except to ask you now, brethren and sisters, whether
you know the meaning of this given rest. Have you come to Jesus and
has he given you perfect and present rest? If so, I know your eye will
catch joyously those two little words, "And I," and I would bid you
lovingly remember the promiser who speaks. Jesus promises and Jesus
performs. Did not all your rest, when first your sin was forgiven, come
from him? The load was gone, but who took it? The yoke was
removed, but who lifted it from off the shoulder? Do you not give to
Jesus, this day, the glory of all your rest from the burden of guilt? Do
you not praise his name with all your souls? Yes, I know you do. And
you know how that rest came to you. It was by his substitution and
your faith in that substitution. Your sin was not pardoned by a violation
of divine justice; justice was satisfied in Jesus; he gave you rest. The
fact that he has made full atonement is the rest of your spirit this
morning. I know that deep down in your consciences, the calm which
blesses you springs from a belief in your Lord's vicarious sacrifice. He
bore the unrest that you might have the rest, and you receive rest this
day as a free gift from him. You have done now with servile toils and
hopeless burdens, you have entered into rest through believing; but all
the rest and deliverance still comes to you as a gift from his dear hands,
who purchased with a price this blessing for your souls. I earnestly
wish that many who have never felt that rest, would come and have it;
it is all they have to do to obtain it--to come for it; just where they now
are, if God enables them to exercise a simple act of faith in Jesus, he
will give them rest from all their past sins, from all their efforts to save
themselves, a rest which shall be to his glory and to their joy.
II. We must now advance to our second head--REST.
It looks rather strange that after having received rest, the next verse
should begin: "Take my yoke upon you." "Ah! I had been set free from
laboring, am I to be a laborer again?" Yes, yes, take my yoke and
begin. "And my burden is light." "Burden? Why, I was heavy laden
just now, am I to carry another burden?" Yes. A yoke--actively and a
burden--passively, I am to bear both of these. "But I found rest by
getting rid of my yoke and my burden!" And you are to find a further
rest by wearing a new yoke, and bearing a new burden. Your yoke
galled, but Christ's yoke is easy; your burden was heavy, but Christ's
burden is light. Before we enter into this matter more fully, let us
illustrate it. How certain it is that a yoke is essential to produce rest,
and without it rest is unknown! Spain found rest by getting rid of that
wretched monarch Isabella; an iron yoke was her dominion upon the
nation's neck, crushing every aspiration after progress by an intolerable
tyranny. Up rose the nation, shook off its yoke, and threw aside its
burden, and it had rest in a certain sense, rest from evil. But Spain has
not fully rested yet, and it seems that she will never find permanent rest
till she has voluntarily taken up another yoke, and found for herself
another burden. In a word, she must have a strong, settled, recognized
government, and then only will her distractions cease. This is just a
picture of the human soul. It is under the dominion of Satan, it wears
his awful yoke, and works for him; it bears his accursed burden, and
groans under it; Jesus sets it free--but has it, therefore, a perfect rest?
Yes, a rest from, but not a rest in. What is wanted now is a new
government; the soul must have a sovereign, a ruling principle, a
master-motive; and when Jesus has taken that position, rest is come.
This further rest is what is spoken of in the second verse. Let me give
you another symbol. A little stream flowed through a manufacturing
town; an unhappy little stream it was, for it was forced to turn huge
wheels and heavy machinery, and it wound its miserable way through
factories where it was dyed black and blue, until it became a foul and
filthy ditch, and loathed itself. It felt the tyranny which polluted its very
existence. Now, there came a deliverer who looked upon the streamlet
and said, "I will set thee free and give thee rest." So he stopped up the
water-course, and said, "abide in thy place, thou shalt no more flow
where thou art enslaved and defiled." In a very few days the brooklet
found that it had but exchanged one evil for another. Its waters were
stagnating, they were gathering into a great pool, and desiring to find a
channel. It was in its very nature to flow on, and it foamed and swelled,
and pressed against the dam which stayed it. Every hour it grew more
inwardly restless, it threatened to break the barrier, and it made all who
saw its angry looks tremble for the mischief it would do ere long. It
never found rest until it was permitted to pursue an active course along
a channel which had been prepared for it among the meadows and the
corn fields. Then, when it watered the plains and made glad the
villages, it was a happy streamlet, perfectly at rest. So our souls are
made for activity, and when we are set free from the activities of our
self-righteousness and the slavery of our sin we must do something,
and we shall never rest until we find that something to do. Hence in the
text you will be pleased to see that there is something said about a
yoke, which is the ensign of working, and something about a burden,
which is the emblem of enduring. It is in man's mortal nature that he
must do or endure, or else his spirit will stagnate and be far from rest.
1. We will consider this second rest, and notice that it is rest after rest.
"I will give you rest" comes before "Ye shall find rest." It is the rest of
a man who is already at rest, the repose of a man who has received a
given rest, and now discovers the found rest. It is the rest of a learner--
"Learn of me, and ye shall find rest." It is not so much the rest of one
who was aforetime laboring and heavy laden, as of one who is to-day
learning at the Saviour's feet. It is the rest of a seeker evidently, for
finding usually implies a search. Having been pardoned and saved, the
saved man in the course of his experience discovers more and more
reason for peace; he is learning, and seeking, and he finds. The rest is
evidently lighted upon, however, as a thing unknown, which becomes
the subject of discovery. The man had a rest from his burden; now he
finds a rest, in Christ, which exceeds what he asked or even thought.
I have looked at this rest after rest as being a treasure concealed in a
precious box. The Lord Jesus gives to his people a priceless casket,
called the gift of rest; it is set with brilliants and inlaid with gems, and
the substance thereof is of wrought gold; whosoever possesses it feels
and knows that his warfare is accomplished and his sin is pardoned.
After awhile the happy owner begins to examine his treasure. It is all
his own, but he has not yet seen it all, for one day he detects a secret
drawer, he touches a hidden spring, and lo! Before him lies a priceless
Koh-i-noor surpassing all the rest. It had been given him it is certain,
but he had not seen it at first, and therefore he finds it. Jesus Christ
gives us in the gift of himself all the rest we can ever enjoy, even
heaven's rest lies in him; but after we have received him we have to
learn his value, and find out by the teaching of his Spirit the fulness of
the rest which he bestows.
Now, I say to you who are saved, you who have looked to Jesus Christ,
whether you looked this morning or twenty years ago, have you found
out all that there is in the gift which Christ has given you? Have you
found out the secret drawer yet? He has given you rest, but have you
found the innermost rest which he works in your hearts? It is yours, for
it is included in the one gift; but it is not yours enjoyed, understood,
and triumphed in as yet unless you have found it, for the rest here
meant is a rest after rest, a spiritual, experienced rest, which comes
only to those who find it by experience.
2. Further observe that the rest in this second part of our text is a rest in
service. It is coupled with a yoke, for activity--"Take my yoke;" it is
connected with a burden, for endurance--"My burden is light." He who
is a Christian will not find rest in being idle. There is no unrest greater
than that of the sluggard. If you would rest take Christ's yoke, be
actively engaged in his service. As the bullock has the yoke put upon
its neck and then begins to draw, so have the yoke of Christ put on
your neck and commence to obey him. The rest of heaven is not the
rest of sleep; they serve him day and night in his temple. They are
always resting, and yet, in another sense, they rest not day nor night.
Holy activity in heaven is perfect rest. True rest to the mind of the child
of God is rest on the wing, rest in motion, rest in service, not rest with
the yoke off, but with the yoke on. We are to enter upon this service
voluntarily; we are to take his yoke upon us voluntarily. You observe, it
does not say, "Bear my yoke when it is laid upon you, but take it." Do
not need to be told by the minister, "My dear brother, such-and-such a
work you are bound to do," but take up the yoke of your own accord.
Do not merely submit to be the Lord's servant, but seek his service.
Ask, "What can I do?" Be desirous to do it' voluntarily, cheerfully, do
all that lieth in you for the extension of his kingdom who has given you
rest, and you shall find that the rest of your soul shall lie in your doing
all you can for Jesus. Every active Christian will tell you he is never
happier than when he has much to do; and, on the whole, if he
communes with Jesus, never more at rest than when he has least
leisure. Look not for your rest in the mere enjoyments and excitements
of religion, but find your rest in wearing a yoke which you love, and
which, for that reason, is easy to your neck.
But, my dear brother, you must also be willing to bear Christ's burden.
Now the burden of Christ is his cross, which every Christian must take
up. Expect to be reproached, expect to meet with some degree of the
scandal of the cross, for the offence of it never ceases. Persecution and
reproach are a blessed burden; when your soul loves Jesus it is a light
thing to suffer for him, and therefore never, by any cowardly
retirement or refusal to profess your faith, evade your share of this
honorable load. Woe unto those who say, "I will never be a martyr."
No rest is sweeter than the martyr's rest. Woe unto those who say, "We
will go to heaven by night along a secret road, and so avoid the shame
of the cross." The rest of the Christian is found not in cowardice but in
courage; it lies not in providing for ease but in the brave endurance of
suffering for the truth. The restful spirit counts the reproach of Christ to
be greater riches than all the treasures of Egypt; he falls in love with
the cross, and counts the burden light, and so finds rest in service, and
rest in suffering. Note that well.
3. The rest before us is rest through learning. Does a friend say, "I do
not see how I am ever to get rest in working, and rest in suffering?" My
dear brother, you never will except you go to school, and you must go
to school to Christ. "Learn of me," saith he, "for I am meek and lowly
in heart." Now, in order to learn of Christ it is implied that we lay aside
all prejudices of the past. These things much prevent our finding peace.
Have you any preconceived notions of what religion should be? Have
you fashioned on your own anvil ideas of what the doctrines of the
gospel ought to be? Throw them all away; learn of Jesus, and unlearn
your own thoughts.
Then, when you are willing to learn, please to note what is to be
learned. In order to get perfect rest of mind you have to learn of Jesus
not only the doctrines which he teaches, but a great deal more than that.
To go to school to be orthodox is a good enough thing, but the
orthodoxy which brings rest is an orthodoxy of the spirit. Observe the
text, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me." What? For I am wise
and learned, and can teach you? No; you are to learn from his example
to be "meek and lowly in heart," and in learning that you will "find rest
unto your souls." To catch the spirit of Jesus is the road to rest. To
believe what he teaches me is something, to acknowledge him as my
religious leader and as my Lord is much, but to strive to be conformed
to his character, not merely in its external developments but in its
interior spirit, this is the grammar of rest. Learn to be like the meek and
lowly-hearted One, and ye shall find rest.
He tells us the two points in which we are to learn of him. First, he is
meek, then he says he is lowly in heart. Take the work "meek" first. I
think that refers to the yoke-bearing, the active labor. If I actively labor
for Christ I can only find rest in the labor by possessing the meek spirit
of my Lord; for if I go forth to labor for Christ without a meek spirit, I
shall very soon find that there is no rest in it, for the yoke will gall my
shoulder. Somebody will begin objecting that I do not perform my
work according to his liking. If I am not meek I shall find my proud
spirit rising at once, and shall be for defending myself; I shall be
irritated, or I shall be discouraged and inclined to do no more, because
I am not appreciated as I should be. A meek spirit is not apt to be
angry, and does not soon take offence, therefore if others find fault, the
meek spirit goes working on, and is not offended; it will not hear the
sharp word, nor reply to the severe criticism. If the meek spirit be
grieved by some cutting censure and suffers for a moment, it is always
ready to forgive and blot out the past, and go on again. The meek spirit
in working only seeks to do good to others; it denies itself; it never
expected to be well treated; it did not aim at being honored; it never
sought itself, but purposed only to do good to others. The meek spirit
bowed its shoulder to the yoke, and expected to have to continue
bowing in order to keep the yoke in the right place for labor. It did not
look to be exalted by yoke-bearing; it is fully contented if it can exalt
Christ and do good to his chosen ones. Remember how meek and lowly
Jesus was in all his service, and how calmly, therefore, he bore with
those who opposed him? The Samaritans would not receive him, and
therefore John, who felt the yoke a little galling to his unaccustomed
shoulder, cried, "Master, call fire from heaven." Poor John! But Christ
bore the yoke of service so well because of his meek spirit that he
would do nothing of the kind. If one village would not receive him he
passed on to another, and so labored on. Your labor will become very
easy if your spirits are very meek. It is the proud spirit that gets tired of
doing good if it finds its labors not appreciated; but the brave, meek
spirit, finds the yoke to be easy. "Consider him who endured such
contradictions of sinners against himself lest ye be weary and faint in
your minds." If ye learn his meekness his yoke will be pleasant to your
shoulder, and you will never wish to have it removed.
Then, as to the passive part of our rest-lesson, note the text, "I am lowly
in heart." We shall all have to bear something for the truth's sake so
long as we are here. The reproach is a part of the gospel. The rod is a
blessing of the covenant. The lowly heart finds the burden very light
because it acquiesces in the divine will. The lowly heart says, "Not my
will but thine be done; let God be glorified in me, it shall be all I ask.
Rich, poor, sick, or in health, it is all the same to me. If God the great
One has the glory, what matters where such a little one as I am may be
placed?" The lowly spirit does not seek after great things for itself, it
learns in whatsoever state it is therewith to be content. If it be poor,
"Never mind," says the lowly one, "I never aspired to be rich; among
the great ones of this earth I never desired to shine." If it be denied
honor, the humble spirit says, "I never asked for earthly glory, I seek
not mine own honor but his that sent me. Why should I be honored, a
poor worm like me? If nobody speaks a good word of me, if I get
Christ to say, "Well done, good and faithful servant," that is enough.
And if the lowly-hearted have little wordly pleasure, he says, "This is
not my place for pleasure, I deserve eternal pain, and if I do not have
pleasures here I shall have them hereafter. I am well content to abide
my time." Our blessed Lord was always of that lowly spirit. He did not
strive, nor cry, nor cause his voice to be heard in the streets. The
baubles of empire had no charm for him. Had fame offered to sound
her trumpet for none but him he would have cared not one whit for the
offer. The kingdoms of this world and the glory thereof were offered
him, and he repelled the tempter. He was gentle, unobtrusive, self-
denying; hence he treated his burden of poverty and shame as a light
thing. "He endured the cross, despising the shame." If we once learn
Christ's spirit we shall find rest unto our souls.
4. But we must pass on to notice, that it is very evident that the rest
which we are to find is a rest which grows entirely out of our spirits
being conformed to the spirit of Christ. "Learn of me, and ye shall find
rest." It is then a spiritual rest altogether independent of circumstances.
It is a vain idea of ours, to suppose that if our circumstances were
altered we should be more at rest. My brother, if you cannot rest in
poverty, neither would you in riches; if you cannot rest in the midst of
persecution, neither would you in the midst of honor. It is the spirit
within that gives the rest, that rest has little to do with any thing
without. Men have sat on thrones and have found them uneasy places,
while others on the rack have declared that they were at rest. The spirit
is the spring of rest, as for the outward surroundings they are of small
account. Let but your mind be like the mind of Christ, and you shall
find rest unto your souls: a deep rest, a growing rest, a rest found out
more and more, an abiding rest, not only which you have found, but
which you shall go on to find. Justification gave you rest from the
burden of sin, sanctification will give you rest from molesting cares;
and in proportion as it becomes perfect, and you are like your Saviour,
your rest shall become more like that of heaven.
I desire one other thing to be called to your mind before I turn to the
practical use of the text, and that is that here, as in the former rest, we
are led to adore and admire the blessed person of our Lord. Observe the
words, "For I." Oh! it all comes from him still, the second rest as much
as the first, the casket and the treasure in the secret drawer. It all hinges
there, "For I am." In describing the second rest there is more said
concerning him than in the first. In the first part of our text it only says,
"I will give you rest;" but in the second part his character is more fully
explained--"For I am meek and lowly in heart;" as if to show that as
believers grow in grace, and enjoy more rest, they see more of Jesus
and know more of him. All they know when sin is pardoned is that he
gives it, perhaps they hardly know how; but afterwards when they
come to rest in him in sweet fellowship, they know more of his
personal attributes, and their rest for that very reason becomes more
deep and perfect.
Come we now to the practical use of all this. Read the chapter before us
and find the clue. First, my dear brethren, if you find rest to your souls
you will not be moved by the judgment of men. The children in the
market-place were the type of our Lord's generation, who railed both at
John the Baptist and at our Lord. The generation which now is follows
the same course, men are sure to cavil at our service. Never mind; take
Christ's yoke on you, live to serve him; take Christ's burden, make it a
point to bear all things for his sake, and you will not be affected either
by praise or censure, for you will find rest to your souls in surrendering
yourself to the Father's will. If you learn of Jesus you will have rest
from the fear of men. I recollect, before I came to London, being at a
prayer-meeting where a very quaint brother prayed for me that I might
be delivered from the "bleating of the sheep." I understood it after
awhile, he meant that I might live above the fear of man, that when
such a person said "How much we have been edified today," I might
not be puffed up; or if another said, "How dull the discourse was to-
day," I might not be depressed. You will be delivered from "the
bleating of the sheep" when you have the spirit of the Good Shepherd.
Next you will be delivered from fretfulness at want of success. "Then
began he to upbraid the cities wherein most of his mighty works were
done, because they repented not." He had wrought his mighty works,
and preached the gospel, and they did not repent. Was Jesus
discouraged? Was he, as we sometimes are, ready to quit the work?
No; his heart rested even then. If we come to Jesus, and take his yoke
and burden, we too shall find rest, though Israel be not gathered.
Then, too, our Lord denounced judgments upon those who repented
not. He told them that those who had heard the gospel and rejected it
would find it more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of
judgment than for them. There are some who quarrel with the
judgments of God, and declare that they cannot bear to think of the
condemnation of the impenitent. Is not this because they do not bear
the burden of the Lord, but are self-willed? The saints are described in
the book of Revelation as singing "Hallelujah" while the smoke of
Babylon goeth up for ever and ever. We shall never receive with
humble faith the judgment of God in its terror until we take Christ's
yoke, and are lowly in heart. When we are like Jesus we shall not feel
that the punishment is too much for the sin, but we shall sympathize
with the justice of God, and say "Amen" to it. When the mind is lowly
it never ventures to sit in judgment upon God, but rests in the
conviction that the Judge of all must do right. It is not even anxious to
make apologies and smooth down the fact, for it feels, it is not mine to
justify him, he can justify himself.
So, again, with regard to the divine sovereignty. Notice the rest of the
Saviour's mind upon that matter: "I thank thee, O Father, Lord of
heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and
prudent." Learning of Jesus we too shall rest in reference to divine
decrees; we shall rejoice in whatever the Lord determines;
predestination will not cast a gloom over us, but we shall thank God for
all he ordains.
What a blessed rest! As we open it up, does not its compass and depth
surprise you? How sweet to lie passive in his hands, reconciled to every
mystery, content with every dispensation, honored by every service
satisfied in God!
Now, I do not know whether I am right, but it struck me, when
considering this text from various points, that probably our Saviour
meant to convey an idea of deeper fellowship than we have yet
considered. Did not he mean this--that he carried a yoke on his
shoulder, which he calls, "my yoke?" When bullocks are yoked, there
are generally two. I have watched them in Northern Italy, and noticed
that when two are yoked together, and they are perfectly agreed, the
yoke is always easy to both of them. If one were determined to lie
down and the other to stand up, the yoke would be very uncomfortable;
but when they are both of one mind you will see them look at each
other with those large, lustrous, brown eyes of theirs so lovingly, and
with a look they read each other's minds, so that when one wants to lie
down, down they go, or when one wishes to go forward, forward they
both go, keeping step. In this way the yoke is easy. Now I think the
Saviour says to us, "I am bearing one end of the yoke on my shoulder;
come, my disciple, place your neck under the other side of it, and then
learn of me. Keep step with me, be as I am, do as I do. I am meek and
lowly in heart; your heart must be like mine, and then we will work
together in blessed fellowship, and you will find that working with me
is a happy thing; for my yoke is easy to me, and will be to you. Come,
then, true yoke-fellow, come and be yoked with me, take my yoke
upon you, and learn of me." If that be the meaning of the text, and
perhaps it is, it invites us to a fellowship most near and honorable. If it
be not the meaning of the text, it is at any rate a position to be sought
after, to be laborers together with Christ, bearing the same yoke. Such
be our lot. Amen.
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