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One of the things my wife Leslie enjoys about where we live
is the sound of the train passing by. It's a haunting,
nostalgic sound that evokes memories and beckons to distant,
unknown places. There's something about a train—the
sight of it, the sound of it—that can reach the deep places
within us. Some say passenger trains might be the wave of the
future because of our need for fuel efficiency. And a train ride
can be very relaxing. The clickety-clack of the rails, the gentle
sway of the cars, the passing scenery—all conspire to help
passengers unwind and let go of their worldly cares, and enter
a different space. The destination is important—but the
ride itself is too.
This saying of Jesus in Matthew seems to come out of the blue.
In the midst of hard mission days and confrontations with authorities
and training disciples, he suddenly stops the action and looks
directly into the camera: "Come
unto me, all—everybody—who's tired and whose burdens are overwhelming
you, and I will give you rest." What prompted these words? His compassion
for people—so many, he must have observed, were bent low under the weight
of life. So many carried soul-crushing burdens—trying to survive, yes,
but also those weary of the struggle, burdened by grief, sadness, loss. He offers
relief, hope, healing, rest—and he takes it upon himself:
I will give you rest.
What's the rest he's talking about? St. Augustine gave us an
explanation in this prayer. "Our hearts are made for you, O Lord, and they are restless
until they rest in thee." We are created for deep communion
with God, and we remain unsatisfied and searching until we find
what Christ promises. It is the peace that transcends understanding,
and it is what we are meant for. It's why we exist. Jesus says,
if you want this, come to me. I will give it to you.
In this respect, the train image fits well. A trip by train,
especially a cross country trip, can do wonders to restore our
perspective on life. You can think, and look out the window,
or read, or sleep. When you get on a train, it can be a soul-restoring
experience. That's what Christ offers, for all. He restoreth
my soul.
Karen Hughes wrote a memoir of her participation in the 2000
presidential campaign. After the frenzy of the convention, there
was a cross-country train trip, or whistle-stop campaign as they
used to be called. She says, "Suddenly the
noise of the convention had stopped, and we were on a slow roll
across the Midwest, seeing only the occasional cow."
By the second day, the routine had begun to feel a little more
natural: long hours of rocking along the track, punctuated by
brief rallies in small towns and waves off the back of the train
to small groups of people who gathered at crossings. We were
approaching a town in Illinois when the conductor came over the
loudspeaker and proudly announced, "Ladies and gentlemen,
we are ten minutes from Normal, ten minutes from Normal." She
says, "Right then and there I decided that when I wrote my book,
that would be the title." She went on to say, "I always considered
myself a normal person, with a normal family, and normal friends—but
since this campaign began I've thought I wasn't quite there anymore.
With all the frantic activity, I've felt I'm always just about
ten minutes from normal." Let the train
represent normal; calm; spirit-lifting rest unto the soul.
Now, you will note that today's theme has another part to it: "Make
the Connection." It indicates there's something more. We're
making the train connection—don't miss the train. We're
also connecting to God, to each other, and to our mission in
the world. In other words, while he gives us rest, Christ also
calls us to service. And it seems we have rest not in spite of
this work of service, but because of it. As
you take my yoke,
you will find rest unto your souls. This is a very important
point. Many have had the experience of work that exhausts and
drains. We're frustrated in our attempts or anxious about results.
But this work of service is restorative and meaningful. If we
get tired it's a good tired—the feeling of
satisfaction that comes at the end of a productive day.
"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me:" a yoke was something that
would be put on an ox to control it while turning a wheel or
pulling a cart. The rest that Christ promises is not inactivity. He understands
our need for significance. In his service, we find the fulfillment we're destined
for. That's why the work of the church must be geared toward helping people
make the connection, at the junction where their personal passion
meets the call of God and the real needs of people. And when we make the connection
between Jesus, others, and yourself—what does it spell? JOY.
You've heard of Snakes on a Plane: we're saints on a
train—God's
people on a journey of faith. And what do people do on a train?
They chat, they play cards, they travel together—and they
serve: there are those who cook and clean and direct and drive
and take tickets and load freight. Today at the Get on Board
displays you'll see some of the ways we're trying to make that
connection real as a congregation. The challenge of the church
is one that Amtrak doesn't face—the passengers also have
to be the crew, and on the gospel train, if we are only passengers
along for the ride, an awful lot of stuff won't get done. More
importantly, we won't be realizing the fullness of God's call
on our lives. People who discover their passion, who find what
they love to do, are blessed indeed.
Recently a man named Willie
Mortinsen was featured in the hometown newspaper of Proctor,
Minnesota. He told of his years as conductor on the railroad.
He started when he was 21 and worked for 40 years. He loved every
year of it. "I
remember looking forward to going to work even though I had to
walk the distance to West Duluth. I loved being with the people
there. It was fun almost all the time." His wife Bee, who
turned 90 this summer, said, "He knows
everything there is to know about the trains. He still has to
go and count all of the cars whenever a train goes by. When we
go to the depot, we always have to wait for him to explain everything." This
is a guy who found what he loved to do. We want to help each
other find that place of service that our hearts long to be in.
Get on board—make the connection: this has the element of outreach in it,
too. He's calling us to do what we can to make sure those who aren't
connected, get connected. We had an episode recently where we were at Union Station
in Chicago—and we were picking up a friend coming in from Kalamazoo—and
we almost didn't make the connection. We were to meet her at McDonald's
inside the station. But when we got there, we still saw no sign of her. There
was a train arriving from Michigan, so we got ourselves over to the right track—and
as the passengers detrained, we waited and waited, and waited—still
nowhere to be seen. Well, we were crestfallen. We decided to
try McDonald's one last time. And when we got back there, we
saw a somewhat forlorn-looking figure, waiting, hoping, at one
of the tables. How had we missed her? It didn't matter, because
finally, we had made the connection. I started to think, what
if we hadn't connected? It's one of those cases where a cell
phone would have been mighty handy. We had one but you really
need two to make a go of it.
A couple of other train songs also speak of connecting: the
City of New Orleans sung by Arlo Guthrie has the Illinois
Central pulling out at Kankakee on a southbound odyssey past
houses, farms, and fields, tying the country together as it stops
in the Crescent City by morning. Now we have learned anew of
our connectedness to that distant place, for Katrina has bound
us all together. And one other—the
Peace Train, 1972, by the artist formerly known as Cat
Stevens. "I've
been happy lately, thinkin' about the good things to come, and
I believe it could be something good has begun—Cause out
on the edge of darkness, there rides a peace train. Get your
bags together, go bring your good friends too, Cause it's getting
nearer, it will soon be with you. Oh peace train take this country,
come take me home again."
There is one word in this passage that captures us: it's the
word all. Just as Matthew's gospel concludes with the mission
to all people and all the world, this invitation of Christ is
to all. The gospel song, "Get on
Board Li'l Children," expresses it well: on the gospel train, "The
fare is cheap and all can go, the rich and poor are there, no
second class on board this train, no difference in the fare.
Oh get on board, Li'l children, get on board li'l children, get
on board, Li'l children, there's room for many a more." That
song probably gained its greatest fame from Shirley Temple's
version of it in the 1936 movie, "Dimples." It's
for all God's children—there's no excluding of anybody—there's
plenty of room.
There are many who are waiting to connect. They are waiting
to hear the word of Christ—Come unto me—all
who are weary and carrying heavy burdens—there's
room for many a more. Saints on the gospel train, we go together,
on a journey to the kingdom of God. |
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