A sermon by Senior Minister John B. McCall, September 6, 2009
Psalms 23
Matthew 11:28-30
(Opening comments about my sabbatical and our five weeks in Bridge of Allan, Scotland, in July)
As you probably know Scotland’s geography is divided in two. In the south are the Lowlands, an area of rolling hills and beautiful valleys. Much of the land is given over to farming as well as pasture land for cattle.
The Highlands to the North are rugged and inhospitable with dramatic mountains and deeply cut glens. Only the heartiest of souls can live there. And, of course, the sheep. Many times it seemed we could drive for miles and not see any sign of people, but lots of sheep – grazing on the hillside, oblivious to the weather and the presence of cars passing by.
Still, even when the shepherd was nowhere to be seen I’m quite sure there was someone keeping an eye on them. The 23rd Psalm is a beautiful reminder of the ways in which God, too, knows the flock and loves the sheep and provides for them (us) in time of need.
We took lots of day trips from Bridge of Allan, in all directions. I’ll long remember the day we drove up the western shore of Loch Lomond and then north toward Inveraray, the seat of the Clan Campbell, my grandmother’s family. As we drove we could feel the rising altitude and the change in vegetation. And as Loch Lomond disappeared in the rearview mirror we entered the great Argyll Forest – a vast expanse of land set aside and preserved for the public.
Up we drove on a narrow road that made its way along the steep side of the glen, passing cars and huge lumbering lorries coming down the hill to our right. Finally we reached the top of the glen and pulled into a parking area well off the highway. And there was a carved stone marker that told us the name of this place – “Rest and Be Thankful.” It was a fairly clear day and we could look back where we’d come from, back down the glen which dropped away some 800 feet from our overlook.
“Rest and Be Thankful.” I thought about the weary travelers over centuries who had passed this way – as rugged as it was, still the most logical path between the lochs and glens: shepherds, merchants, travelers, tourists, soldiers – this was the only route to carry them from glen to glen.
The stone that named this spot was placed there in 1750 to commemorate the completion of a military road built by the Jacobite forces of King James of England who intended to quell the frequent rebellions by the Scots against English rule.
“Rest and Be Thankful.” That’s more than an important reminder. It’s life-giving, life-saving wisdom that is true in every time and place. No matter how hard the climb has been, rest and be thankful! No matter how breathless, exhausted, or overwhelmed you may feel right now… rest and be thankful.
You may nod and agree that’s a good idea. In theory, at least, we know we should rest, know we should be grateful. But most often we push on, barely pausing and trying hard not to look back to see the path we’ve traveled. I remember in my college days when I’d phone home on Sunday afternoon. Sometimes I’d list my tale of woes and worries. And my dad would say “how long has it been since you’ve had a good night’s sleep?” And I’d fess up. And he’d say “stoop working; go to bed early, sleep all night and call us back tomorrow if it still looks so bad!” He was right.
Life is difficult. It sometimes throws us curve balls and it sometimes slaps us in the face. There’s a lot that happens that we can’t avoid, but can only push through it. What we can do is remember how important it is to rest and be thankful. When you’ve paused to refresh your body and spirit, when you’ve made the time to count your blessings, you’ll be in a much better place spiritually to face what you have to face.
Rest, and be thankful. Jesus’ promise in Matthew 11 is simple, clear, and true. When you choose to walk with him he shares the burden with you. When you share the burden with him you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. Because of our faith in Jesus we believe God knows what our lives feel like – our hopes and fears and burdens and joys.
Come to me, all of you who are weary and heavy-laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. My yoke is easy and my burden light. Rest, and be thankful. Notice the resting place isn’t only at the end of the journey. It’s many places along the way – breathing room that makes it possible for us to get up and push on.
We know from experience that when we refuse to maintain our balance life interjects a pause whether we like it or not – a warning, a wake-up call, a reminder that we’re human and frail and finite. We simply must make room for refreshment and perspective.
Sabbath and three day weekends can remind us that life is a marathon, not a sprint; that we are truly creatures more than creators; that we can’t heal ourselves or save ourselves.
So for me, this, my third sabbatical has been a time to rest and be thankful, to draw a deep breath and look back to the path I’ve walked – walked with you for 19 years and another 19 years before that in three other parishes where I’ve served.
As we rest from our labors today and this weekend, and turn our gaze toward the year ahead, I want you to know I have experienced the gift of resting, and I have known again the deep joy of being thankful – to God, for you and the many other blessings in my life.