Lately, I have been confronted with the question: “Am I weary?” If I am honest, I can say that I have been feeling wearied by the work before me here—coupled with the inner conflicts that one faces when living in a culture that is not your own. My friend Jamie sent me a very timely reminder via an encouragement card: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).
I have seen even more promptings from the Spirit to “not give up.” I received an email from another friend who wrote this prayer for me: “Father, I pray for my brother Paul, that You will provide him with energy and strength for the work You have set before him. That this day he would have everything he needs of you to do the task that you have set before him. That even when the work is exhausting that it would fill him with joy and contentment at the end of the day. I pray for the joy of visible, tangible fruit to be evidently seen. I pray for quiet moments of rest and rejuvenation.”
Recently, my amazing aunt Diana commented: “Love ya Paul. Keep up the GOOD works.” My best friend Jim emailed: “I hope and pray you are seeing some of the fruits of your labor.” I am always humbled when the Spirit leads the saints to encourage me so specifically—a sure sign that He knows my situation, hears my prayers, and uses others to share my burdens. Everything keeps coming back to Galatians 6:9—to keep going, to expect harvest, to trust in the strength that He provides.
I wasn’t completely surprised then when the first hymn we sang today at church was: “Are You Weary?” The series of questions that the lyrics pose speak to feelings that we all face as we seek to serve the Lord this side of heaven.
Are you weary, are you heavy-hearted? This is on the days when you feel tired and overwhelmed by the work set before you, and you cannot find rest. Your soul feels drained, and you think: “Maybe I should just stay in bed or throw in the towel!”
Are you grieving over joys departed? This is on the days when you think to yourself: “Life was so much better when…” You look backward, perhaps wishing you were still in Egypt, instead of wandering a wilderness to a seemingly far off Promised Land.
Do the tears flow down your cheeks unbidden? This is on the days when you feel a deep sadness, and you do not have the words to express it. You weep, and you feel that it’s rain from the storm raging in your heart.
Have you sins that to men’s eyes are hidden? This is on the days when, confronted with guilt and shame, you think to yourself: “If anyone saw what I am thinking right now, how could they ever love me? Am I even a Christian?” The weight of sin blinds you to the glory of the gospel, and you have yet to be shocked again by amazing grace. For me, there is the added: “I am a pastor and a missionary! How much of a hypocrite am I?”
Do you fear the gathering clouds of sorrow? This is on the days when you are waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. You wake up seeing the world only through the lenses of pain and suffering, not through the eyes of faith and hope.
Are you anxious what shall be tomorrow? This is on the days when you are consumed by what is going to happen next—what you will eat, what you will wear, where you will go. You don’t have answers, and the questions (plus bills) keep piling up. The worries of this life cloud the promises of the next—and hide the One who Promises.
Are you troubled at the thought of dying? This is on the days when, assaulted by doubt, you wonder: “Is this whole thing a silly fairy tale? Is God real, or am I wasting my life on chasing the wind?” You question: “Is there really a heaven? And am I really on the path that leads there? Will I close my eyes in this life, only to open my eyes to the light of the next—or will there only be darkness?”
For Christ’s coming kingdom are you sighing? This is on the days when you look up to the heavens and say, “Lord, come quickly! Please come back and rescue us from this broken world!” And you just keep staring at the clouds—waiting for the sky to break open and the sound of a trumpet to blast forth…
Please know, that when I use the universal “you,” I am of course speaking from the overflow of my own heart. In my six months of being here, I have experienced each of the days listed above. I also know that I am not alone in feeling these things. The truly amazing thing in all of this, as I have been reminded again and again lately—the Lord is not thrown off His throne by our doubts, fears, questions, and grief. In fact, as the hymn refrain encourages us, we do not have to hide it. Instead, we can:
Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus,
He is a Friend that’s well known.
You’ve no other such a friend or brother,
Tell it to Jesus alone.
I did a study this week on the word “weary” as it is used throughout the scriptures. I was encouraged to wait for renewed strength (Isaiah 40:27-31). And, as I am waiting, I can consider Jesus. “Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (Hebrews 12:3).
I was also invited to come to Jesus. “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).
To me, that sounds pretty good right about now—sweet rest and light burdens. I think I will take Him up on that offer. After all, I cannot deny the emails, the prayers, the hymns, and the daily reminders—all pointing me back to Galatians: “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.”
