I was meandering around an antique shop the other day, looking for an old washstand and basin that I could clean up and have as a part of a footwashing space.  Instead I came home with a big old and beautiful oxen yoke (note that beautiful may very well be in the eye of the beholder). 

If you had been with me you might of thought I was a little “off” – I was mesmerized by it, and within me heavy doors were being blown off my soul as Jesus’ words drowned out everything else:  “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Life was stirred up in me and there was no shutting it down in that moment. 

It has been awhile since I have felt that insistent coursing so deep within me.  In fact, as I reflect on that, I realize I only ever feel it to that depth when I’m working with something in my hands – whether cleaning and sanding a stick I have picked up off a forest trail, turning it into more than a stick; or cleaning an old carpenter’s plane and crafting words to tell a story to go with it.  Taking something ordinary and turning it into something meaningful, merging it with a redemptive “story” and then sharing that with others — that taps into streams of life within me in ways that nothing else can. 

Now I had something that was in a way cleaning me…crafting a story within me…bringing meaning and releasing me, for a few moments at least, from a heavy and hard yoke that has chafed at my soul.  A couple of weeks ago I read Nouwen’s, The Inner Voice of Love.  I have been reeling ever since as I have had to face, as he calls it, “the basement of my soul”.  I have been overwhelmed at times by the agony of a parallel journey he courageously shares about…pulling back from as much and as many as I can, any confidence I had for relationship shattered, feeling that I have no where to turn, thankful at least for that “inner voice” without which I would be completely desolate, and for the presence of mind to choose each day to do one of the things I love to do.  That’s how I ended up in an antique shop.

In the moment that my eyes landed on it, and later as I sat quietly in a sanctuary, alone …caressing this yoke, God drew me near to experience some powerfully intimate and private moments with him.  My senses were engaged through touch, and sight, and even sound as a few bars of a song quietly rose up within me.  Most importantly, he engaged my embattled soul, bringing relief and peace…an inner hiding place where I could truly rest and from which I could move toward the task that was before me…to present a seminar at that church.  Until then, I had no idea of just how much I needed these moments with him.  And I was filled with gratitude at how willing God was to meet my need at the right time and in a uniquely personal and compassionate way. 

Now I am brought back to other words from Nouwen’s book, “Don’t forget the hands that are holding you.”  Yes.  Today as I sat in the silence, the battle within once again fierce and unrelenting, wearing me down, I heard, “I’m holding onto you.  Welcome the silence…you need my grip not my words today…”  How can words explain how deep peace and deep agony can both be present at the same time in the same heart…and how returning to that oxen yoke provides the centering and stability I need right now to remember a love so great, a love that understands, a love so beyond me yet so present, teaching me how to wear his yoke.