Mary Bernard

“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” —Matthew 11:30 (ESV)

I’ve spent much of this year feeling as if I was walking through molasses. I have a tendency to finagle (isn’t that a great word, by the way?) events to the best possible outcome, which causes me the least amount of energy, interruption, or discomfort. I can latch onto a great opportunity, idea, or endeavor and throw myself at it full force. I’m so good at working hard, capitalizing on a “good idea,” and employing every tried-and-true strategy.

There’s just one problem with my working so hard in my own strength.

It’s not the way God wants me to work.

And so, when I do, it’s hard. So hard. So tiring, so long, so complicated. My best efforts are met with resistance. My best attempts are fraught with failure. My energy depleted, I ask God over and over and over to bless “the plan.” And I work harder. And a little bit harder.

Earlier this year—when I was working four part-time jobs and so exhausted—a good friend pointed out to me the obvious fatigue my efforts were yielding. She reminded me that God says his yoke is easy and his burden is light.

I often think about this verse in terms of having some grave worry that’s bringing me down and that if I just “give it to God,” I’ll have the burden lifted. Of course, that relates. But the application from my friend is appropriate, too.

When I’m doing what God has called me to do, created me to do, and prepared me to do, it’s easy. Just the opposite of dragging myself through molasses.

I don’t mean that there are not times in life when God calls us to walk through dark places or tough situations in order to teach and refine us. I’m talking about the times when we take charge and try to forge ahead in our own strength for selfish motives and within our own wisdom.

But when we rely on Christ alone for wisdom, strength, and direction, even daily cross-bearing is easy and light. In a real sense, it feels good.
photo credit: technicool

photo credit: busbeytheelder

I noticed bags of cranberries in the produce department at the grocery store last week.

It’s not even Halloween, and already holiday meals are anticipated. Most people may not even notice the bags of fresh cranberries in the store. Most people, after all, get their cranberry sauce or jelly from an Ocean Spray can.

That’s how I knew cranberry sauce growing up: a red blob with the tin can shape intact. It didn’t look appealing, nor did it taste all that good. I vaguely remember it being a very tart goo. After trying it early on, I never did again. Why ruin an otherwise savory meal of turkey and dressing?

And then I began cooking my own holiday meals. Inevitably, somebody wanted “something cranberry” to go with the turkey. A few times, I’d purchase the obligatory cans. I never even thought homemade cranberry sauce was a feasible option. I thought it must be too difficult or too messy or something.

But one day—probably inspired by a cooking show—I decided to turn over the back of a bag of fresh cranberries. There was the recipe: sugar, water, cranberries, heat. It was so easy, so simple. And it produced something so fresh, so tasty.

I couldn’t believe I had been duped all these years by tin cans of red goo. (Mom, really, why didn’t you just make your own cranberry sauce?)

Earlier this week during a Bible study class, my friend and pastor talked about the fact that we are “resurrection people.” We possess the same power that raised Jesus from the dead. Our dead bodies will be resurrected at the last day. We are new.

What does it mean to live as a resurrection people? I wondered.

As I tossed this question around in my mind, I came back to the cranberry sauce. The dichotomy between what I knew to be—and had settled for—as cranberry sauce and what cranberry sauce can really be.

The surprise in all of this to me was that homemade cranberry sauce is really, really good, yet I had never known it to be.

The canned sauce is merely a shadow—almost an imitation—of the real thing. It’s like boxed mac ‘n cheese or instant iced tea. The shadow retains some of the trappings and characteristics of the authentic, but is ultimately a hollow representation.

The cranberry sauce in a can? It’s a shadow of the feast that is to come. Homemade cranberry sauce? It’s nowhere near the banquet that awaits, but it’s a good reminder that canned cranberry sauce pales in comparison to the “real thing.”

Life in this world is full of shadows of that which is to come. To live as a “people of the resurrection,” we must not become too cozy here in the shadows. We mustn’t look to the things of this world to satisfy only that which Christ can. We must allow the shadows to prepare our hearts and offer anticipation for that which is to come.

And while I don’t think it’s necessarily a requirement, I heartily recommend eating homemade cranberry sauce every chance you get.

I’m up to something over here at The Writer’s Block. Stay tuned.

I’ve moved my blog from Blogger to self-hosted WordPress, and I’m having a few glitches as I get the blog settled here.

Anyway—welcome. I’m excited about new directions for my blog.

I must begin this post with a disclaimer.

I never watch Pat Robertson on The 700 Club. Never.

But yesterday, as I was unloading the dishwasher in the kitchen, I turned to Channel 4 for something to listen to.

You see, at that time of morning, I would have ordinarily tuned into The View. But in the kitchen, we don’t have cable and only have the digital converter box—which, incidentally—doesn’t work very well at all. So, the only local channel I get is 4.

Channel 4 is Nashville’s NBC affiliate. I cannot for the life of me figure out how The 700 Club got the mid-morning weekday timeslot. But, anyhoo, someone somewhere is paying big bucks to have Pat Robertson relay his particular stripe of theology to middle Tennessee viewers every day.

I just happened to catch the last minute or so of the program. As I reflect upon those fading seconds of the show, I’m amazed at how few words it takes to butcher so completely a fundamental tenet of basic Christian belief.

But Pat Robertson did. Oh, yes, he did.

I tuned in just as he was answering viewer mail.

A viewer wrote to Pat with this question:
What is the point of the Ten Commandments? No one can keep them all, so I don’t understand why God asked us to try. What do you think, Pat? 

He answered:
That’s nonsense. Of course we can keep them all. The Ten Commandments aren’t all that hard.

Watch the clip below, beginning around the 53-second mark.

Here’s what Robertson should have said (in some form or fashion):

No. We cannot keep The Ten Commandments. Ever. 

Even if we don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, and don’t lie—even if we “do” all things “right” and keep all the outward definitions of the Law, we still fail. 


Why? Because God demands perfection and complete obedience. We are incapable of that. 


Wasn’t this topic primary to Jesus’ ministry? As I recall, Jesus shot down the rich young man—pointing out the greed in his heart, despite his “keeping” the Law. He taught that hatred was the same as murder and lusting was the same as adultery. Jesus was quick to point out the necessity of the Law but he also told us that he was the fulfillment of it! He did it. He kept the Law and he expanded it. 


Now, under the New Covenant instituted by Christ, while believers are still held to God’s unchanging standard, that standard is expanded. It’s not just an outward motion of “keeping” a ritual or “avoiding” something. No, Law-keeping has expanded to the condition of one’s heart, one’s motives, and one’s thoughts. 


Feel defeated yet? Sure, we could stay there in the knowledge of our inability. But, here’s the good news that is the Gospel. Jesus kept the Law and possessed pure thoughts, motives, and attitudes. In Christ, we are seen as him: Law-abiders. We are saved from the Law by grace so that we may desire to keep the Law out of worship (we know it pleases God) and gratitude. 


So what is the purpose of the Law today? Since Jesus kept it, can we just forget it about it since we believe in Christ? 


No. The Law is an aspect of God’s character. If we want to know how to live a life that pleases God, we are required to study his character. It reveals our sin so that we may confess and repent. The Law also foreshadows our Savior, giving us greater insight into him and his work on our behalf. 

I’m really hoping that Pat Robertson wanted to respond with something like that. I single him out because he has singled himself out. He’s put himself on a syndicated television show, calling himself an “authority.”

The Bible says that teachers will be held to a higher accountability. His answer to a question so fundamental to the proper understanding of law and grace, Christ’s purpose, and the sanctification of the believer is an impromptu misquote at best and a theologically bankrupt and ignorant proclamation at worst. Either way, Pat, you got it wrong.

I had hoped you’d know better.

If you want to read on this topic further, I beg you to check out the Larger Catechism of The Westminster Confession of Faith (Questions 98-150).

I think Question and Answer #149 sums up the point of this post precisely:

Q. 149. Is any man able perfectly to keep the commandments of God?
A. No man is able, either of himself, or by any grace received in this life, perfectly to keep the commandments of God; but doth daily break them in thought, word, and deed.

This historic document—upon which my denomination is based—is an exhaustive, yet easy-to-understand explanation. After reading through it, you’ll be confronted with your sin, and you’ll never read the Ten Commandments the same way again.