Kristin and I are in the adoption process, which means, that we are actively seeking to add to our family by adopting a baby.

            For better and for worse, being a citizen of the strange and wonderful world of adoption affords one the opportunity to meet all sorts of people. 

            While chasing down adoption leads, I have talked to some of the craziest people God has ever created.  I have also come into close contact with some of the kindest and most generous of God’s children.  Pursuing adoption opportunities has also led me into some rather dark corners in our community.

            We met a woman not too long ago who was homeless until she was taken in by a shelter. 

She is pregnant and she has a small child, and she was, for a time, homeless right here in Athens. I don’t guess I ever even figured on that being a possibility in our little town.  I mean, I know there are homeless people all over big cities like Memphis and Atlanta, but Athens?  I’ve actually heard folks around town say, “There aren’t any homeless people in Athens.”  I now know that’s not true. 

            Of course, the woman I met is not homeless anymore though.  She has transitioned from the street to a shelter, to a city housing project.  So, she has a home now, but it is not like my home.           Her home is not like most of your homes.  Her place is in a relatively dangerous part of town.  There are a lot of drugs in the complex that she lives in.  The second night she was there she and her child were awakened in the middle of the night by a cacophony of sirens and shouting.  The noise was the soundtrack to a drug bust a few doors down.  It played on through the night, and she did not fall back to sleep.

            She is alive and she has a roof over her head.  So, she is okay I suppose, but the situation is not great.  I actually don’t think too much about the adoption possibilities with this woman because I am mostly overcome with worry about the fact that people, pregnant people, in our own community live in such scary, difficult conditions.

            Now, it would be easier if I didn’t know what the Bible said about helping widows, orphans, victims and poor people.

            If only my parents hadn’t made me go to church for all of my school age years, then, I wouldn’t have a good sense of what Christians must do in when faced with knowledge about poverty and danger.  If only I didn’t know that scene where Jesus told the rich young ruler to sell all his possessions and give the money to the poor.

            I could ignore the troubling scene in the Athens housing projects if I wasn’t a Christian and did not know the teaching of Jesus about loving my neighbor as I love myself.  I won’t even go into how much easier life would be if I didn’t know that obnoxious teaching about loving our enemies.

            As I learn about and think about the woes of the world, I grow weary and knowledge becomes a burden that I lug around like a heavy rock hanging from my shoulders, which is why, at first glance at least,          this morning’s gospel piece from Jesus comes as such a relief.

            Jesus says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.”

            And I think, Oh great!  This is perfect. I am weary with the heavy burden of worry!  I read on eager to find out how the “I will give you rest” bit comes into play.

            Jesus says, “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.”  That sounds great, but I’ve got to figure out what Jesus’ yoke is. 

            In farming terms a yoke is, of course, a wooden crosspiece or harness of sorts that fits across the necks of two animals and is then attached to a plow, a cart, or some other implement that the animals are in service to pull.  It is a tool for working.

            In religious terms, yoke can refer to a program for service to God.  (So, in Old Testament practice the Yoke of the Jews might have been the law.  Jesus came teaching that he had a yoke or program for service to God that fulfilled and completed the old Yoke and indeed took the Old Testament program to a new place.)

            Jesus said, “My yoke, my program is easy.”

            Well, I have tracked all through the gospel looking for the basic structure of Jesus’ program.  I have found and fit his Yoke around my neck, and I don’t know if easy is exactly how I would describe it!

            The main tenets of Jesus’ program are, Love God with all of your heart, mind and soul and love your neighbor as you love yourself.

            After we fit our necks with these two crosspiece commandments, then the chains and buckles that bind us to the cart we pull are things like I mentioned before:  Love your enemies.  Turn the other cheek.  Don’t judge each other.  Give anonymously.  Trust God.  Don’t be afraid.  Welcome strangers.  Feed the hungry.  Clothe the naked.  Give drink to the thirsty.  Take care of the sick and visit prisoners in prison.

            This is the easy Yoke of Jesus Christ?  I came to Christ for rest and easy living, but I feel like I have been sent right back into the housing projects to welcome, feed, clothe and take care of people.

            So, now I want to know how the Yoke of Christ is easy - because it feels heavy and it sounds hard.  I found something of an answer in an Outreach Committee meeting.

            A couple of Sundays ago, the Outreach Committee met for our monthly meeting after church, in my office.  We sat in a circle of chairs and discussed our vision for outreach activities here at St. Paul’s Parish.

            The room was full of energy and stories.  Most everyone in the conversation had an idea for a project, and several had stories about outreach projects they have done or are doing.

            Towards the end of the meeting, after everyone had had a chance to speak I went around the circle asking the same single question of each committee member.

            My question was simple.  I asked, why?  Why do you do these things?

            We have a member who took a downtrodden family into his home to live.  So, I asked- why did you do that?

            I asked our food pantry manager, Why do you do take your time to do that? And to the others, why do you do what you do?

            It was fascinating to hear the answers.  As I asked the question, each person dropped their shoulders a bit, the energy in the room eased into relaxation, they took deep even breaths and smiles broke easy onto their faces.  The answers were all the same. 

            “Why?  I have to.  Somebody has to help.”

            “Oh, that’s an easy question – I have to.  I must.  It’s the only thing to do.”

            “Why?  Well, there’s no other way.”

            I told a priest friend about the meeting, and I asked him the same question.  Why do you do all the Christian, outreach, love/peace/hospitality stuff you do?

            My friend said, “Because it’s what we were made by God to do.”

            I think my friend is right.  We were literally created to wear the yoke of Jesus Christ.  We were created to love.  And that is why the Yoke of Christ, with all of its difficult straps and buckle, is an easy fit for us once we get it on. 

            We were not made to wear the yokes the world would have us wear - the yokes that have us carting around material goods, stacks of cash, weapons for warfare, and extra pairs of everything.  Those yokes are hard to pull, and the work is never done, and the fruit born from toiling under the weight of the world’s yoke is always half rotten, and undersized.

            Jesus says, “Try this on.  I think you’ll find the pressure on your spirits eases up when you work under my yoke.  Just love, it’s what you were made to do.”

            The worry doesn’t go away, the work is still hard a lot of the time, but the joy and peace that comes from loving and caring about other human beings is ripe full sized fruit.  It’s food that’s easy to live on.

            Friends, may we love!  It’s the work we were made to do.