Sabbath Thought: “Come to Me, All Who Are Weary…”
Jesus offers rest in an increasingly chaotic world. This is an invitation to step away from the noise and return to the peace your soul was made for.
The longer I live, the more I see how drained people are, how deeply tired, not just in body but in spirit. I see it in the eyes of parishioners, in the faces at the grocery store, in the silence of lonely people scrolling through their phones hoping for a word of meaning.
We are weary.
And not without reason.
“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.”
—Matthew 11:28–30
That’s not just a poetic line. It’s a promise.
The faith of Jesus was never meant to wear you down. It was meant to lift you up. But far too often, religion, especially when hijacked by fear or greed or political agendas, ends up weighing us down. It tells us we’re never enough. That if we’re struggling, it’s our fault. That the more burned out we are, the more holy we must be.
This isn’t the Gospel. It’s manipulation.
We live in a world that thrives on your exhaustion. Greedy corporations demand more and reward less. They praise you with empty words while slowly taking more of your time, your family, your energy, and your soul. Our government institutions, consumed by corruption and self-preservation, create scandal after scandal until the sheer weight of it all becomes overwhelming. The news doesn’t report anymore; it agitates. And our media feeds us fear and rage, so we’ll keep watching, clicking, obeying.
Is it any wonder that we feel broken?
But hear me on this:
There is another way.
“Do not be conformed to this world,
but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”
—Romans 12:2
A spiritual life rooted in Christ renews, not exhausts. Even science now confirms what saints knew centuries ago: meditative prayer changes the brain. Centering prayer, the Rosary, time away from our devices, intentional quiet… they calm our nervous system and open us to peace. Even the simple grace of seeing familiar faces at Sunday Mass, sharing a moment of fellowship with someone who sees you, prays with you, maybe even smiles at you, can begin to refill what the week has drained.
“Do not worry about your life…
Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”
—Matthew 6:25–27
The Eucharist is not just ritual; it’s nourishment. It is food for your soul, strength for your journey. Every Sunday is a chance to remember who you really are, not a cog in the machine, not a number on a spreadsheet, not a lost face in the crowd. You are beloved. And the Body of Christ, broken and shared, is your reminder that you belong to something eternal.
So here’s your gentle invitation:
Make space to pray today.
Make Mass on Sunday your non-negotiable.
Make time for quiet.
Live spiritually.
You are in this world, but not of it.
And nothing of this world can touch the essence of who you are in God.
“For we do not lose heart.
Though outwardly we are wasting away,
yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.”
—2 Corinthians 4:16
Jesus promised that His yoke is easy. That doesn’t mean life will be. But it does mean we don’t have to carry it alone.
Everything will work out fine.
You’re held.
You’re safe.
You’re being led home.
This reflection is part of Message from the Margins, a ministry proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus of Nazareth—not the Gospel of empire, fear, or profit.
If you’re longing for a faith rooted in mercy, justice, and love, you’re not alone. Join me on this journey.
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Let’s walk together toward a faith that heals.