Why is it that life can feel so heavy? Like every step is a burden, every struggle a proof of the hopelessness we are destined to. Have you ever felt that? "Life's a b*tch, and then you die." I look around this world and see that heavy burden in so many eyes. Like life is just a road of one resentment after another. As if we are all orphans walking down some street of destitution and despair, hopelessly alone.

And then, He COMES! The god of love. The god of mercy. The god who's given hope to the hopeless, a home to the homeless, healing to the wounded, and joy to the heartbroken. The father who knows YOU. Warts and all. And LOVES YOU. Even though you can see you don't deserve it. He DOES. And you can know it, in the depths of your soul. That you have a father who loves you. Oh, do you know Him? With him, life is so lite. It has no weight at all. As if you could put an entire mountain on your shoulders, and you wouldn't even notice. Because it's His strength that carries every burden. His grace that performs every deed. His love that takes every step for you. His yoke is so so lite.

I've walked both of those roads. I know the life that is burdened by the weight of our self, the self that is an unbearable weight to carry. And I know the life that is rooted in His love, freed of self. There is no comparison. I can't believe that anyone who has truly experienced the freedom which comes through a total gift of self to Him would ever willingly choose to return to that life of continual unending burden. And yet… we do. I do. Even after tasting the fruit of His grace, I still fall back into that life of darkness and despair. And that burden starts to return to my shoulders, and I start to cry out in misery and despair, as if my savior has not already died for me.

What is wrong with us, that we would ever resist the path that has led billions of people to joy and peace. And yet, don't we do just that. Day upon day. We are prisoners, sitting in our cells. Christ has thrown open the cell doors, and our father awaits outside ready to smile upon us and rejoice over us. But we stay, sitting in our cells. Staring at the open door. Saying 'thank you, my lord, for opening the door'. But we stay sitting, out of fear. What would happen if I truly let go of my self? Let go of my control? Let go of my importance? And gave it all to Him? Made it His problem, not mine. We sit still out of fear, saying… but what if I get hurt? What if people make fun of me? What if people take advantage of me? What if I am made a fool? To put on Christ, and find all we need in being a child of the father... it means a loss of our power. A loss of our self-importance. A denial of self. And so we sit still. Thank you, lord, for giving your life for me… but I'm too afraid to give mine for you.

And it's here that I am handed children to raise. It's here that I am made a father. Souls are placed in my care, and each of them carries a piece of my heart in them. Apples of my eye. And I dream of a life for them that is filled with joy, peace, and hope. And I know there is only one thing that will give that to them. The God whose fatherhood I am just a reflection of. The ghost in this machine of love which is at work all around us. Oh, how I want them to know HIM. Oh, how I want them to know how light life can be when you are content to be a child in that Father's arms, dependent on Him for everything. Oh, it is so, so good. What more could I ever want for my children? Then the love that makes money, glory, suffering, and self-importance lose all weight in your life. That life of freedom... which we can only find in Him.

And so, I fret. I stare at that open prison door and I tremble and cry. Because it doesn't really matter what I say to them. It doesn't really matter what I teach them. I mean, yeah, those matter. But what matters most is what I do. What they will really follow... is what I lead them to. They will do what I do, not what I say. And my words will be hollow if they don't see me acting according to them. The most important gift I can give my children... the only one that will matter to them on the last day... the gift that will carry them through life with joy and peace and hope... would be to see me, their dad, WALK OUT THAT PRISON DOOR! To see the tears of joy in MY eyes. To see ME find healing through Him in my moments of pain. To see the life of wonder and peace that I can only find in Him. And I fret because I don't want to lead them to a life that is still seated in the cell... afraid to walk through that door. But, that means I must somehow find the courage to do it myself. Again and again.

And so, I get up, close my eyes and walk out the door anew. If not for myself. Then for them.

Father, take me in your arms. Lead me by the hand. Break me down when I need to be broken. Rejoice in me when I please you. Take every cross I can carry. Take every dream I had that was my own. I give it all to you. All that I am. All that I do. All that I merit, I give as a gift of love. Take my very self. And then overwhelm me with your grace, so profoundly and all-consuming, that it is evident in my eyes and in the quivering of my voice. Show them your love through me. Show them a life in me that has been impacted by You. Show them the difference your love can make in a life... through me. Lead me to encounter You, ever more deeply, so that the place I lead them to in this world is to be nestled in your fatherly arms, like a baby resting on your chest. No matter how I must be broken down, take me there, so that they might follow me to You. So that they may know the life that lifts them up, rather than weighs them down. Give me the grace to lead them to the unburdened life that awaits in you.

T.R. Olsen
East Peoria, IL