Matthew 11:28-30 Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 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. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
Jeremiah 6:16-17 Thus says the LORD: “Stand by the roads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls. But they said, ‘We will not walk in it.’ 17 I set watchmen over you, saying, ‘Pay attention to the sound of the trumpet!’ But they said, ‘We will not pay attention.’
Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
But here’s the surprise—He offers rest through a yoke. That seems backwards. A yoke is for work. Yet this is the wisdom of the kingdom. Yeshua doesn’t promise escape; He offers partnership. His yoke—zugos in Greek—isn’t just a symbol of restraint or control. It represents His way of life, His teachings, and how He walked in obedience to the Father. And when we are yoked to Him, we’re no longer pulling alone. The burden doesn’t disappear—but it is redefined, shared, and lightened. His commands are not oppressive; they align us with God’s design, bringing peace through purpose.
“Learn from Me,” Yeshua says. Not learn just about Me. Not just admire Me. The Greek verb manthano implies observation that leads to transformation—watching the Master in action and imitating His ways. And what are those ways? Love, compassion, gentleness, and humility aren’t signs of weakness or passivity—they’re powerful, intentional choices. They reflect inner strength and a deep trust in God’s plan. Yeshua, though He is the King over all, chose to lower Himself and serve. He didn’t demand honor—He gave it. In doing so, He revealed the true path to peace and rest: not through striving, but through surrender and selfless love.
To take His yoke is to say YES to being shaped. It’s to accept a life of obedience that flows from love. In the Hebraic context, this yoke isn’t legalistic. It’s a joyful return to God’s ancient paths, the ways Jeremiah urged Israel to rediscover. (Jeremiah 6:16-17) Yeshua claims the authority to define that path. He is not just the teacher; He is Wisdom itself (Colossians 2:2-3). In Him, the old paths become living roads that lead to freedom.
Here’s the wonder: when we walk in His ways—when we align with His teaching and pace—rest finds us. Not because we chased it down but because we surrendered to the One who gave it. This rest (anapausis) is not the absence of effort but the presence of inner calm while we labor. It’s working in harmony with our purpose. It’s the second wind of grace.
Maybe you’ve tried everything else. Maybe you’ve carried the weight alone for too long. He’s still saying, “Come to Me.” Not just once, but daily. Take His yoke. Learn His ways. And you will find what your soul has longed for—not just relief, but real rest — a true SHABBAT!
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]In the early 1800's a preacher gave a message to call men to join him on the mission field in Africa. In the audience were only a few women along with a boy. The pastor knew that few women were expected to volunteer to face harsh African jungle conditions. However, he gave the message; and no one responded. What he didn't realize was that he had touched the heart of a little boy whose name was David Livingstone. This boy would grow up to spend the rest of his life ministering to Africa's unreached tribes.
A.W. Tozer had an interesting commentary on this verse. He said: "Faith is seeing the invisible, but not the nonexistent."
When does God answer our prayers? And when do we receive what we ask of Him? And when are we confident He has heard our requests? Many of us wonder why our prayers seem to go unanswered.
A farmer was showing his visiting citydwelling friend around his farm. "Watch this!" he said. He gave a whistle and his little dog came running from the house, herded the cattle into the corral, then latched the gate with her paw. "Wow, that's some dog -- what's her name?" The forgetful farmer thought for a minute and then asked, "What do you call that red flower that smells good and has thorns on the stem?" "A rose?" "That's it!" The farmer turned to his wife. "Hey Rose, what do we call this dog?"
According to church history, the apostle Thomas, died in Calamina, a city in the East Indies. While there, Thomas had put a stop to the idolatry that was running rampant in the land. The idolatrous priest was not happy about this at all and accused him before their king. The king sentenced Thomas to death -- first to be tormented by red hot plates and then cast into a glowing furnace and burned. When the priest saw that the fire was not hurting him, he pierced Thomas' side with spears and javelins, and finally Thomas died.
A significant response to the current pandemic has been medical professionals in various places offering valuable advice on the role of diet toward building and increasing our body's immunity to viruses and disease in general. This kind of advice can be truly salutary, even life-saving. Yet the aphorism, "You are what you eat", though often heard, isn't always taken as seriously as we might...And that may contribute to unpleasant health consequences.
Missionaries Dick and Margaret Hillis found themselves caught in China during the Japanese invasion. The couple lived with their two children in the inland town of Shenkiu. The village was tense with fear, for every day brought terrifying reports of the Japanese advance. At the worst possible time, Dick developed appendicitis, and he knew his life depended on making the long journey to the hospital. On January 15, 1941, with deep foreboding, Margaret watched him leave.