to be a cow and not a mule
“'Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me,
for I am gentle and lowly in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light'”
— Matthew 11:28-30
Be not like a horse or a mule, without understanding,
which must be curbed with bit and bridle,
or it will not stay near you.
— Psalm 32:9
I threw a plate at a wall yesterday.
It was, granted, a small plastic plate from my kids’ kitchen, but it’s safe to say that I was raging mad. The day had gone not at all as I had planned. Both my kids had fallen sick over the weekend, and so I kept my daughter home from preschool and we cancelled the plans I had set up while my husband was out of town for the week. My normally easygoing son was screaming bloody murder every time I put him down, my daughter seemed particularly demanding and selfish, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to solve some frustrating and scary chronic health issues going on with my daughter. Add some PMS to the mix, and by the end of the day, steam could have been coming out of my ears, ya’ll. It was not pretty.
The next day, as I sat and reflected on what happened the day before, I felt like God broke into my hard and stubborn heart with two contrasting images. The first was an image that I had been reflecting on a lot lately after studying Matthew 11:28 with my small group: an image of a small, weak, inexperienced cow, yoked together with a strong, gentle, experienced cow. This weak cow is humble and well aware of how much it needs help. It is surrendered to the will and the way of the stronger cow. It stays intimately close with the stronger cow, walks in step with it, trusting that the stronger cow knows what it’s doing. Even if the burden is heavy, it takes comfort knowing that the stronger cow is shouldering the majority of the weight.
The second image I felt the Lord giving me was from Psalm 32:9: the image of a stubborn horse or mule, fighting against its master, not having understanding but thinking that it knew better than its owner. It was agitated and needed a bridle to be controlled or else it would not stay near. It insisted on its own will instead of surrendering to the one who actually knew what he was doing and could help it.
And in that way that the Spirit tenderly but powerfully convicts us, I realized that I was that mule. All day long, I had fought against God and His will for me about how my day should go. I was without understanding, believing that I had more wisdom about how my life should be than the One who breathed it into existence. I was so angry that I could not control my life, my kids, or my circumstances to make things go how I wanted them to. I hated that the suffering and sickness wouldn’t leave despite my best efforts.
But fighting against my Creator, insisting on my own way, indulging my pride - it led to nothing but disappointment, resentment, the absence of peace, discouragement, fury, and joylessness. And that, friends, is no way to live, and is certainly not the way that our Father made for us to live.
In that moment of repentance and surrender, God showed me that I was made to be like a cow. I was created to walk in step with my strong Savior, coming to Him with my heaviness and my burdens, trusting that wherever He is taking me is ultimately the best path I could go, even if it doesn’t make sense to me. He reminded me that He was sovereign even over that day when I had a meltdown right along with my three-year-old. He knows exactly what He is doing in my life, not in spite of but in tandem with our prolonged sickness, with moments when I don’t have it under control, with my being painfully reminded of my sinfulness and weakness. And still He loves me. Still He pours out His forgiveness over me. Still His righteousness is credited to me.
And can I just testify that this drastically shifted my week? When my daughter’s cough suddenly worsened on the morning I was about to take her back to preschool, I was tempted for a moment to grumble and sit in my frustration. But in that moment (by His grace, trust me), I decided to surrender to God’s plans for that day, to accept what He brought into my life, and my heart was so much more tranquil and joyful as I yielded to His purposes. I had a sweet, connected time with my kids and even went on a little adventure to El Dorado Nature Center, which was exactly what we all needed.
In a way, sometimes it’s almost easier to surrender to God in the glorious, impressive, testimony-worthy moments of our lives - the big diagnoses, the intense surgeries, the pivotal transitions. It was so easy for me to pray, to ask others to pray, to be attuned to God’s purposes in the midst of my daughter’s surgeries and intense first year of life. But, as my dear friend Ellie Hunja said to me, our lives are made up of those mundane, every day, unimpressive moments where sometimes it’s easy to excuse our joyless attitudes and grumbling. But I am learning that it is in these thousand tiny moments where we must choose to yield to God, moment by moment, trusting that God actually exists, that He actually holds the world, your world, in His capable and loving hands, that He wastes not a single moment to transform us into the likeness of His perfect Son. As we come to Him in our weariness and heaviness. As we run to Him to receive the rest our souls desperately crave. As we take on His yoke that frees us from the burden of self-sufficiency and striving, plodding steadily along with Him at His pace, in His direction. As we learn from Him, the One who is gentle and lowly in heart, the One who has perfect compassion. And He promises: you will find rest for your souls. And, in that paradoxical way of Jesus, a yoke that is easy, and a burden that is light.
