Jesus Never Asked You to Carry This Much

“You’ll never believe this,” my teenage son says as he slings his backpack onto the dining room table.

I pull out a chair and wrap my hands around my mug of coffee as I glance at the seat across from me.

“Go ahead,” he says, gesturing to the overstuffed bag. “Just try to pick it up.”

I raise an eyebrow and reach for the zipper.

“No, wait!” he says, throwing his hand over the brimming bag he slings over his shoulder every day after school. “You can’t see what’s inside yet. Just see if you can lift it.”

I grab the bag and lift it with one hand. It doesn’t feel especially heavy.

“Mom!” he shouts. “How did you do that? It’s so heavy!” he insists.

He grabs the bag and slowly unzips it for the big reveal: a massive algebra textbook.

He looks at me expectantly. I stare back, unsure of what reaction he’s hoping for.

“Can you believe my teacher wants us to lug around a giant book?” he exclaims.

Before I launch into a speech that begins with, “Back in my day,” I stifle my laughter. He’s part of a generation that rarely carries physical books anymore. For him, almost everything lives on a slim, lightweight tablet, not in a backpack bursting at the seams.

“Wow,” I say, sipping my coffee. “That is a heavy burden.”

He nods solemnly.

It’s been years since I carried a heavy backpack from class to class, but even as we age out of math homework, finals, and prom dates, we never really stop carrying heavy things. The grown-up world comes with its own set of weights—many of them invisible, shouldered day after day.

What are you carrying these days, tucked away in your own invisible backpack?

What are you carrying that was never meant to be yours alone? Guilt that grows heavier with time? Insecurities that began long ago and never loosened their grip? Anxiety that keeps you braced for the other shoe to drop? The constant pressure to hold it all together, even when you feel like you’re unraveling?

What if, just for a moment, you set a few things down? How might you finally be able to catch your breath if you could just let yourself rest from carrying it all?

In Matthew 11:28, Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” He speaks these words to people exhausted not only by life itself but by the weight of religious rules layered on top of Roman occupation.

Jesus’ call to get away with Him and discover real rest is so gentle that it’s almost, well, radical. He doesn’t tell people that if they’re weary, they should add another religious requirement to their to-do list. He doesn’t hand anyone a rulebook or chastise them for being too stressed or worn down. Jesus offers rest—good news for all who are tired of striving and worn out from carrying spiritual weight that feels more like obligation than God’s love. Even Lent, a sacred season on the Church calendar that we set aside to reflect during the forty days leading up to Easter, can far too easily become another weight on our shoulders: another thing to do right, another way to measure up.

Jesus notices our fatigue and says, You look tired. Let me carry some of that for you.

So many of us, especially as women, have picked up the idea that if we don’t hold everything together, it will all fall apart. We carry responsibilities at work and at home, hold the emotional and physical labor of caring for others, and bear the heavy fears that only arise when we lie down at night.

When everything falls away, and strivings cease, Jesus meets us with care and compassion.

Jesus invites us to let go of the weight that was never ours to carry alone. When our shoulders are full of religious rules and regulations, how much space do we have to experience the expansive love of Christ? The grace of Jesus frees us from feeling like we need to earn our way to true rest.

As Lent begins, maybe God is inviting us to notice what we’ve been carrying for too long, and to let some of it rest for a while.

What have you been carrying in your invisible backpack for so long that it almost feels like part of you? How long has it been there? Who handed it to you? When did it start to feel normal, maybe even necessary, to keep carrying this weight?

The way of Jesus is not crushing or cruel. His yoke is easy. His burden is light.

When the weight you carry feels like too much to bear, remember Peter’s words: “Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7 NIV).

As you reflect this week, borrow this simple breath prayer:

INHALE: Your burden
EXHALE: Is light

Release what was never yours to carry. Let the One who gives each breath carry you.