Traveling Light

We may not start life with a lot of baggage, but the older we get, the more we seem to pick up along the way.

How many times have we put God in a box? How many times have we stuffed him into a small corner of our lives, only to find that the gods we create are insufficient to meet our daily needs? You might be carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. But what if you didn’t have to?

We humans want to do things our way. Forget the easy way. Forget the best way. Forget God’s way. We want it our way. The seductive burden of self-reliance goes back to the garden of Eden. And incredibly, we’ve been carrying the weight ever since. But what if there was a better way?

Want. What a curious piece of luggage. Like an optical illusion, this is one bag you can never seem to fill. The fuller it is, the emptier it seems. If you’re carrying this heavy, bottomless bag, it’s time to journey through the 23rd Psalm. This passage holds a secret about traveling light. What you have in your Shepherd is greater than what you don’t have in life.

The to-do list. It’s always growing. And for every item you cross off, three more appear. The Good Shepherd invites you to stop making to-do lists and start making time for down time. The frayed, worn out duffel bag of weariness is a heavy burden we were never meant to bear.

Worry splits our energy between today’s priorities and tomorrow’s problems. But worry has never brightened a day, solved a problem, cured a disease, or put food on the table. So how do we deal with this burden of worry? We look to the One who leads us. The Good Shepherd tells us what we need to know when we need to know it.

It’s a jungle out there, and even the most seasoned travelers can lose their way. Or even worse, lose their hope. But even when our surroundings inspire hopelessness, we can trust that God will lead us safely home. He is our shepherd. The Good Shepherd. And He never leaves our side.

Have you ever had a moment you wished you could take back? Maybe a lapse in judgment or integrity? But the deed was done. And now, it weighs on you. Guilt is a heavy burden. An ugly burden. There’s only one place to place your guilt: the cross. Calvary is the compost pile for guilt. Would you like to leave yours there as well?

What goes up must come down. It’s the law of gravity. It’s also the law of pride. Pride goes before a fall. And try as we might to puff ourselves up, arrogance ultimately weighs us down. You can wait for God humble you, or you can start to humble yourself. Why not get started today? Why not humble yourself beside still waters? Follow the good shepherd through green pastures, the land of plenty to which he leads us!

The clock is ticking. Every one of us has an appointed time when we will pass out of this life. The uneasy feeling in our stomach when we pass a graveyard or attend a loved one’s funeral is an unwelcome reminder that there’s no escaping death. We fear the unknown. We carry the weight of the grave like a suitcase full of headstones. But what if there was a better way?

God has the last word on death, sorrow, grief and despair. It’s the promise of eternity. Our future hope gives us the strength to drop the black bag of grief for good. So go ahead, face your grief. Permit yourself tears. But have no fear. For even in the valley of the shadow of death, your Good Shepherd is with you.

Fear stops us in our tracks and sends chills down our spine. It plagues us and paralyzes us. It holds us in a steel tight grip. Or does it? What if we’re the ones gripping onto the burden of fear?

Bags of loneliness show up everywhere. They litter the floors of boardrooms and clubs. We drag them into parties and usually drag them back out. We’ll try anything to unload our loneliness. But should we? Could loneliness be our loving Father’s way of getting our attention?

Dwelling on the past can turn the stoutest of hearts into a tailspin of guilt and shame. Shame reminds us that we can’t change the things we have done, anymore than we can undo the harm done to us. Bags of shame, left unattended, can bury us. But the Good Shepherd sees through the pile of shame, and He offers to restore your soul

Remember when you dared to let your hopes get high, only to find them crashing to the ground? It happens to all of us. Life is full of disappointments, both big and small. We can let them weigh us down, or we can take them to the Shepherd, who cares about everything that concerns us. According to scripture, “He made us, and we belong to him; we are his people, the sheep he tends.” Psalm 100:3

At one point or another, we all carry the ugly, green burden of envy. We notice the neighbors have a new car, and suddenly realize we don’t. But if awareness of what we don’t have creates envy, could it be possible that an awareness of our abundance will lead to contentment? What if the cup the Good Shepherd placed in your hand is already overflowing with blessings?

Most of us like to travel, but after a while, we long to go home. Believers are prone to bouts of homesickness, because we know our “forever home” is not on this earth. It’s in heaven. But what if this feeling is merely God’s way of reminding us that there’s a celebration awaiting us upon our arrival?