The Weight Of The World

The Weight of the World

“They’ve got the weight of the world on their shoulders.” I’ve heard that phrase used to describe those persons who seem burdened with sorrow for others. Whose empathy makes them emotionally vulnerable to the struggles they witness around them, and who grieve as if those struggles were their own.

In Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees, sister May Boatwright is just that sort of heavy lifter. When her sorrow feels most acute, May steals away to an old stone wall, where she tucks notes into its crevices to document the pain. This place beside a shallow river becomes her own private wailing wall and, ultimately, the scene of her drowning. The weight of the world is too much for May. She cannot carry it in her heart any longer.

“Share each other’s burdens,” the apostle Paul wrote to his friends in Galatia, “and in this way obey the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). But for how long? And to what degree? Until they become so heavy that all hope is lost? Surely not.

I’m no May, but I see the hurts of others piling up higher and higher all around me. A crumbling marriage. A menacing diagnosis. An abandoned child found by the side of the road. A widow improvising another day without the love of her life. A husband in need of a job and weary of being told no. The world weighs an awful lot. Too much.

So where do we take these burdens? Not far. I’ve barely held each one and whispered a prayer over it before I let the strong hands of Jesus take it from me. Why? Because he’s the only one who can handle the weight of the world. I cannot.

Oh, how glad I am for that! I’m only expected to hand off these heavy hurts, casting all my cares on him because he cares for me. Jesus himself is my wailing wall. He is near to the brokenhearted, and he saves those who are crushed in spirit.

He’s enough—more than enough—for the weight of the world.

Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28