“Now, here, you see,” said the Red Queen to Alice, “it takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that.”
One summer,
when she was just the right age
for adventure,
she discovered the stories
of a girl named Alice.
Lucky Alice
tumbled down a rabbit hole
and walked through a looking glass
into strange and wonderful worlds—
places far removed from her own
very ordinary
(and therefore very boring) life.
Her new favorite books
became grubby and worn
as she kept one eye on the page,
and one eye on her neighbor’s cat
napping in the sun.
She hoped against hope
that he would be like the cat in the story:
a cat who could appear
and disappear at will
leaving nothing behind but a smile.
But after careful observation,
(and some bribery involving tuna)
she was forced to admit
that the cat was ordinary…
just like her.
That summer,
she was almost always late for supper.
If her parents were looking,
she could be found
talking to caterpillars
(just to see if they talked back)
studying the mirror in hallway
just to see of it led somewhere else)
or poking a stick down a promising hole
near the honeysuckle vine
(just to see if a rabbit appeared)
Alice’s adventures
made her own life seem tame and dull.
After all,
how could a patch of suburban crabgrass,
a sleepy neighborhood cat,
and a houseful of commonplace
(and completely unmagical) mirrors
compare to playing croquet with a Queen
and having tea with a Mad Hatter?
She couldn’t wait to grow up.
She had big dreams for such a little girl.
Bold dreams that would take her
out of Oklahoma
and far into the big, wide world.
She was determined to make her life
extraordinary.
She would travel to new lands.
Explore ancient and mysterious ruins.
Meet exotic and interesting people.
Have exciting adventures
and if along the way,
she tumbled down the occasional rabbit hole,
well,
so much the better!
However,
like so many people,
she discovered that reality
was a bit different than the dream.
One day,
years later,
when her childhood was boxed up
and put away on a shelf,
she realized
that just like Alice and the Red Queen
she had been running faster and faster
but she never seemed to pass anything.
She had always believed
that if she ran very fast
for a very long time
she would get somewhere.
And yet
no matter how fast she ran
no matter how many hours she worked,
or how well she played the game
she found herself
looking around in surprise,
Breathless
Exhausted
and in just about
the same place where she first began.
From deep within her memory,
came the Red Queen’s voice saying
“It takes all the running you can do,
just to keep in the same place.
If you want to get somewhere else,
you must run at least twice as fast as that!”
Running twice as fast!
Was that the secret?
Was that even possible?
She had become skilled at multi-tasking years ago.
The master schedule posted in her kitchen
looked like the plans to invade a small country.
Its execution required precision timing,
fearless driving
and the occasional miracle of bi-location.
Her freezer was filled with
carefully prepared meals.
Her van was kind of like
the archaeological site
she dreamed of years ago--
Future historians
could sift through the strata of hockey gear,
half-finished school projects,
lost permission slips
and last week's junk mail
and to reconstruct her life on the run.
She couldn’t remember
the last time her family
simply sat in the evening and talked—
because there was homework
to be supervised,
orphan socks
to be matched,
and a task list
that never seemed to grow shorter.
And regardless of her determination
to make life anything but ordinary
she began to realize that
owning unusual things
didn’t mean very much
if you never had time to see them.
And the sad truth
about exotic people and places
is that they eventually become,
well...
Ordinary.
Much to her dismay,
even falling down the occasional rabbit hole
wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Despite her best efforts,
her elderly father
was lost in a world of loneliness and grief.
Her brother struggled with
a body broken down
from a lifetime of hard labor.
Her subordinate spent his lunch hour
rifling her wastebasket
and measuring his backside for her chair.
She and her husband
had become tag-team parents,
barking reminders
and exchanging car keys
as they passed on the street.
They went to mass every Sunday
(at least most…)
but in shifts,
to accommodate Sunday soccer games
and his weekly teleconference to India.
And although she was tap dancing
as fast as she could
every time she came to Church
she felt…
not inspired
not healed,
not reconciled
not prayerful,
fed,
or even very thankful.
Most Sundays,
she just felt…
Tired.
Sometimes,
one eye on her boys
and one eye on the altar,
it seemed to her as if Eucharist
had become just one more meal,
to be grabbed on the fly.
Whenever she thought that,
she mentally bit her lip
and prayed extra hard,
hoping God would understand…
or at least
not smite her where she sat.
In truth,
no matter how fast
or how hard she ran
here she was,
in the place she first began.
As she sat in the pew,
in that moment between planning
Monday’s schedule
and reviewing her Father’s prescriptions,
she heard these words…
Come to me, all you who labor
and are burdened,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you
and learn from me,
for I am meek and humble of heart;
and you will find rest for yourselves.
For my yoke is easy
and my burden light.
Rest!
It sounded so tempting.
So inviting.
So easy.
Too easy.
What was the catch?
The exclusions?
Where was the fine print?
If only, she thought,
If only it really was that easy.
But she had learned
nothing in this world
is as easy as it sounds.
Yet,
throughout that week
the idea of finding rest;
of being at peace,
of laying down burdens
and relying on someone bigger
just wouldn’t go away.
It was as if Jesus was saying to her,
I am not leading you to the answer,
selling you the answer
or bargaining about the answer.
I AM the answer.
She realized that for her entire life
she had been running alone.
And it was only when she was weary enough—
weary all the way down to her bones
that she could hear
and receive this invitation.
Come to me all you who labor
and are burdened
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you
and learn from me.
It seemed counter intuitive,
and frankly more than a little crazy--
to lay down burdens
and take on a yoke,
and still somehow
find peace and rest.
But that is exactly how it works.
Taking on the yoke of Christ
harnesses us to him.
It aligns us correctly,
points us in the right direction,
down the right furrow.
Taking on the yoke of Christ
allows us to walk beside Him
matching stride for stride.
The yoke binds us into intimacy,
converting us from the solitary
and exhausted runner,
always striving,
never arriving,
into a partnered disciple,
walking with purpose
and discovering peace.
This peace is not as the world gives
but as God gives.
The yoke of Christ
does not prevent sore backs
or painful blisters.
It does not remove rocks from the field,
or guarantee calm weather.
Rather,
the yoke teaches us
that when storms arrive;
when boulders fill our path,
these challenges will be shared
transformed
taken up into the heart of God
and returned to us as life and hope.
The yoke guarantees that when we run,
we will actually go somewhere.
When she was just a little girl,
she was determined to make her life
anything but ordinary.
She would explore ancient worlds,
meet interesting people
lead exciting adventures.
If she fell down the occasional rabbit hole,
so much the better!
Fortunately for her,
one day,
she finally understood how
extraordinary
an ordinary life could truly be.
Fortunately for her,
one very ordinary day,
she stopped running long enough
to listen--
to hear the invitation
to lay down her burdens
and take on a yoke.
Come to me, all you who labor
and are burdened,
and I will give you rest.