Bearing the burden of crushing weight actually gives Christians wings.

This may sound like a contradiction in terms, but it is a blessed truth. While enduring a severe trial, David cried, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest” (Psalm 55:6). Yet before he finished his meditation, he seems to have realized that his wish for wings was attainable, for then he said, “Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you” (Psalm 55:22).

The word “burden” is described in my Bible commentary as being “what Jehovah has given you.” The saints’ burdens are God-given, leading us to wait upon Him. And once we have done so, the burden is transformed into a pair of wings through the miracle of trust, and the one who was weighted down “will soar on wings like eagles” (Isaiah 40:31).

One day when walking down the street, On business bent, while thinking hard About the “hundred cares” which seemed Like thunder clouds about to break In torrents, Self-pity said to me: “You poor, poor thing, you have too much To do. Your life is far too hard. This heavy load will crush you soon.”

A swift response of sympathy Welled up within. The burning sun Seemed more intense. The dust and noise Of puffing motors flying past With rasping blast of blowing horn Incensed still more the whining nerves, The fabled last back-breaking straw To weary, troubled, fretting mind.

“Ah yes, it will break and crush my life; I cannot bear this constant strain Of endless, aggravating cares; They are too great for such as I.”

So thus my heart consoled itself, “Enjoying misery,” when lo! A “still small voice” distinctly said, “’Twas sent to lift you—not to crush.”

I saw at once my great mistake. My place was not beneath the load But on the top! God meant it not That I should carry it. He sent It here to carry me. Full well He knew my incapacity Before the plan was made. He saw A child of His in need of grace And power to serve; a puny twig Requiring sun and rain to grow; An undeveloped chrysalis; A weak soul lacking faith in God.

He could not help but see all this And more. And then, with tender thought He placed it where it had to grow— Or die. To lie and cringe beneath One’s load means death, but life and power Await all those who dare to rise above.

Our burdens are our wings; on them We soar to higher realms of grace; Without them we must ever roam On plains of undeveloped faith, (For faith grows but by exercise In circumstance impossible).

O paradox of Heaven. The load We think will crush was sent to lift us Up to God! Then, soul of mine, Climb up! Nothing can e’er be crushed Save what is underneath the weight.

How may we climb! By what ascent Will we crest the critical cares Of life! Within His word is found The key which opens His secret stairs; Alone with Christ, secluded there, We mount our loads, and rest in Him.

MARY BUTTERFIELD

It came to pass, when the sun did arise, that God prepared a vehement east wind; and the sun beat upon the head of Jonah, that he fainted, and wished in himself to die, and said, It is better for me to die than to live.

Job spake, and said, Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery, and life unto the bitter in soul; which long for death, but it cometh not; and dig for it more than for hid treasures?—Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the Lord delivereth him out of them all.

Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour.—In all things it behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things pertaining to God, to make reconciliation for the sins of the people. For in that he himself hath suffered being tempted, he is able to succour them that are tempted.

And I said, O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away, and be at rest.

I would hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest.

In this we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is from heaven.

For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life.—Having a desire to depart, and to be with Christ; which is far better.

Let us run with patience the race that is set before us.

Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who, for the joy that was set before him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.

For consider him that endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds.

Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

Have mercy upon me, O Lord ; for I am weak: O Lord , heal me; for my bones are vexed.

My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, O Lord , how long? Return, O Lord , deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies' sake.

My heart is sore pained within me: and the terrors of death are fallen upon me. Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me. And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! for then would I fly away, and be at rest.

Ye have need of patience.

While they looked stedfastly toward heaven as he went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel; which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.

Our conversation is in heaven; from whence also we look for the Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.

That blessed hope,. . . the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ.