“Are you tired?  Worn out?  Burned out on religion?  Come to me.  Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.  I’ll show you how to take a real rest.  Walk with me and work with me– watch how I do it.  Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.  I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.  Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Matthew 11.28-30 (The Message)

We have  a book,  “131 Christians Everyone Should Know,” (from the Editors of Christian History Magazine) which contains snippet bios of Christ-followers from history.  The back cover starts like this:  “If you think history is boring, take about three minutes and scan through 131 Christians Everyone Should Know. Zero in on an article.  You may find you can’t read just one!”

And that is what happened to me.  The testimonies of these ancestors of faith are inspiring and compelling. To think about them nudges me to think about what sort of legacy I want to leave, what mark I will make in this world, and the type of life that must be lived in order to do that.

Theresa of Avila committed her life to ministry by becoming a nun in her twenties.  But she joined a convent known for its leniency, and considered herself half-hearted, despite her commitment to the spiritual life.  “I voyaged on this tempestuous sea for almost 20 years with these risings and fallings,” she wrote in her Autobiography.

The bio in “131 Christians” says this:  “Then one day while walking down the hallway in the convent, her glance fell on a statue of the wounded Christ, and the vision of his constant love throughout her inconstancy pierced her heart.  Gently but powerfully, she said Jesus began to break down her defenses and reveal to her the cause of her spiritual exhaustion:  her dalliance with the delights of sin.  She immediately broke with her past, undergoing a final conversion.”

Like the passage in Matthew, like Theresa of Avila, I have found myself spiritually exhausted.  The spiritual exhaustion was so draining it led to physical lethargy.  The effort of trying to be like Christ while trying to maintain my own way of doing things and seeking my own happiness wore me out.  It is easy to miss the cure for this when you feel like you’re already doing the things you are “supposed to do,” and not doing plenty of things you’d like to do.

But then, take a good look at Jesus, who was wounded for me and you and for the people who completely reject Him, and find that His love has never wavered.  Ask Him to let you see Him as He is, and not as you are accustomed to perceiving Him. It is hard not to be completely humbled, completely broken, by that Love.  And as Theresa of Avila saw, the “delights of sin,” begin to pale in comparison to the pure joy of fellowship with our Resurrected Jesus.  It becomes easy to break with the past and run to Him, responding to his call, “Get away with me… Walk with me… Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.”

Thank You, Jesus.