In Greek mythology, Atlas was condemned to carry the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Picking up on this, Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote:

“That was as harsh a punishment as the ancient Greek mind could conjure up. Today, it seems, we have volunteered to play the role of Atlas. We have not offended God—we have dismissed him, told him we were grown up enough not to need his help anymore, and offered to carry the weight of the entire world on our shoulders. The question is, when it gets too heavy for us, when there are questions too hard for human knowledge to answer and problems that take more time to solve than any of us have, will we be too proud to admit that we have made a mistake in wanting to carry this world alone?”

Thankfully, we don’t have to have all the answers. We don’t have to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus offers the invitation: “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

Let us pray:  Loving God, I pray today especially for people who are carrying heavy burdens, and for those who are just beyond their ability to cope. I ask you to meet them at the deepest point of their need. Help them to let go of the pressure, to let go of the stress. Grant them hope and an ability to trust that they rest firmly in your hands. Amen.

The Gardner Museum in Boston has Rembrandt’s painting The Storm on the Sea of Galilee. It is his interpretation of the story we find in the Gospel of Mark (chapter 4:35–41). He masterfully depicts the panic etched on the faces of the disciples as their small boat is being lifted up on a high wave. Two of them are attempting to wake Jesus, who is sleeping in the stern of the boat.

It is a beautiful painting. However, if you look closely, you’ll find something that isn’t quite right. There are too many people in the picture. There should only be thirteen (twelve disciples and Jesus). But if you count them, there are fourteen. One of the men in the boat is Rembrandt himself. He has painted himself into the picture! He placed himself in the same boat.

Maybe you feel as though you’ve been in that boat too. Maybe you know what it feels like to have the wind howling and the waves crashing around you… when the pressure of the job is overwhelming, when the marriage is struggling, or when the bills are piling up, or the stress of caring for a loved one is crushing.

I think we’ve all had those moments.

In the story in Mark, Jesus calms the storm. He says to the wind, “Peace. Be still.” And there is dead calm. Then he turns to the disciples and asks, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

If you feel as though you’re in the midst of the storm today, know that you are not alone. There is One who stands with you. There is One who has a claim on your life. There is One who has the power to calm the storms. Trust in him.

Let us pray:  O God, in the midst of the storms, calm our fears, and help us to trust. May we hear your voice again today: “Peace. Be still.” Amen.

Some time ago, my friend Hunter preached on the passage in Luke about Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist. Zechariah was an old man when the angel Gabriel appeared to him and announced that he and his wife, Elizabeth, would have a son. Elizabeth had been barren all her life, and she, too, was well along in years.

Understandably, Zechariah had his doubts. Because of his disbelief, Gabriel struck him mute.

Hunter reminded us that day: “Never doubt the power of God.”

Never doubt the power of God—for with God, all things are possible. That doesn’t mean God will answer our prayers exactly when or how we want. But it does mean this: with God, there are no dead ends.

Let us pray:  God of New Beginnings, we claim the promise that with you, all things are possible. We lift up to you now the concerns of our hearts. Some of us are struggling with financial burdens or family problems. Some of us are coping with health concerns or broken relationships. We ask you to give us the strength and courage we need to make it through the day.

Breathe new hope and peace into our lives. Help us to trust you—really trust you. Fill us with your grace, and grant us eyes to see the light you are already breaking in. Even now. Amen.

Today’s message was written by Rev. Roger Kunkel, founder of Dial Hope.

It is an old story, but it is true, and it is good. The famous British author John Ruskin one night in his later years sat watching a lamplighter who, with a torch in his hand, was lighting the lamps on a distant hill. The man himself could not be seen, but the lights would gleam as each one was lighted. Ruskin said to a friend, “That is what I mean by a real Christian. You can trace their course by the lights they leave burning.” 

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “You are the light of the world… let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in Heaven.” (Matthew 5:14-16). Friend of Dial Hope, make today a masterpiece with your contagious enthusiasm, the light of your joy, and hope.  

Let us pray: O God of china blue skies and dazzling sunrises, with each new day your promise of hope is restored. Each day is like the Day of Resurrection filled with new life and hope. Grant us the boldness to move out of comfortable security to the risk of faith, the joy of service, the laughter of love. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

In Psalm 105, we read:

O give thanks to the Lord, call on his name,
make known his deeds among the peoples.
Sing to him, sing praises to him;
tell of all his wonderful works.
Glory in his holy name;
let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.

Not only here in the psalm—but really throughout all of Scripture—there is a sense of enthusiasm, a spark of life that can’t be kept in. In a large sense, our Scriptures are stories and poetry that name what God is doing and give praise for what God has done.

Notice the verbs in the psalm: give thanks, make known, sing, glory, rejoice…

It’s widely believed that this psalm was written while the community of faith was living in exile in Babylon. It’s poetry—and may very well have been sung or chanted in worship from a very early time.

In fact, if we were to read the psalm to the end, it retells the story from Abraham through the Exodus—out of Egypt—God carrying, God rescuing, God saving. We were hungry and you provided. We were oppressed and you set us free. We were thirsty and you brought water from a rock. You carried us out with joy and singing.

I have to imagine that there were people in exile who heard these words—this poetry, this song—who were feeling anxious… who were worried about the future… wondering, “What kind of world will our children grow up in? Will this diagnosis, this disease, this divorce, this problem have the last word?”

And I have to imagine that when this psalm was read aloud or sung in community, people would hear its overwhelming tone of joy. They would hear the witness of the faithful across generations. And they would remember: we worship a God who rescues, redeems, and saves.

And that is my prayer for you today: that you would remember the times God has rescued you, carried you, and blessed you. May you remember the stories and songs of faith. And may you hold fast to hope.

Let us pray:  Give us open eyes and open hearts, that we might notice the beauty of your hand at work in our lives and in this world—even now. Amen.