But then the innocence of early youth gave way to more adult perceptions of church life. Coming home from college—where I did not go to church—I began to see that the same social games I now noticed everywhere else where being played at church in full force: there were strong disagreements about the running of the church, long-standing resentments between particular families or cliques in the congregation, criticisms of the pastors or the moderators or the choir director or the sexton or the Women’s Service League. The older I got, it seemed, the less church gave me rest from the weariness that came from playing the game of life out in the world. Now I know that’s not unusual, for either a church or a young person growing up. It wasn’t that church no longer had meaning and power, but simply that the shine was off the apple, and finding real rest from the labor of life became more challenging.

This being Fourth of July weekend, I was reminded of other familiar sentences that speak of finding rest: the inscription on the Statue of Liberty reads, "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door." That invitation and welcome is absolutely the foundational, unique characteristic of our country, and still what makes us first among nations. But we know there is a contrast between ideals and real life. It isn’t easy for an ordinary citizen, let alone an immigrant, to find rest in America these days. Quite apart from the very necessary labor needed to make a home and a life in America, there is also a great amount of laborious game-playing not so different from what I began to notice in my home church: there are social games and political games and bureaucratic games; it takes a kind of gamesmanship to succeed in the marketplace and even to get to work in the morning. We have parties and cliques and classes that are polarized, jockeying for advantage.

Let me be clear: our faith and our nation are great, and we are blessed to have the good news and to live in this country. But as both Christian disciples and American citizens, it is exhausting to be unsatisfied. Both identities will always require hard work on our part to live up to their promises, but it is human nature to take life-giving principles and add on an extra layer of labor that is competitive and territorial and selfish.

So much of our weariness, I think, comes not from working to be good disciples and responsible members of society, but from coping with all the noise and static and interference that human nature can’t seem to help but throw into the mix: which is exactly why Jesus leads into his promise of rest for the faithful by comparing his generation to children playing games in the town square. Some children want to play pretend wedding, others pretend funeral, and so spend their time arguing rather than getting down to actual play. In exactly the same way, the adults of Jesus’ day were wanting God, working hard to find and know and obey God. Yet when John the Baptist came they were so immersed in their games they said John was too ascetic, too weird, and when Jesus came they said he was too ordinary, too willing to go to parties and be friends with outcasts. The people were weary, but could not find rest. Sound familiar?

So what’s the answer? What is this path that leads to rest from the labors of our souls? As always, Jesus turns the lesson upside-down: “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants.” The answer is simple—to all who carry heavy burdens, burdens of any kind, Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart.” Jesus doesn’t ask that we solve every problem, overcome every obstacle we face, join the right team, say all the right things, get straight A’s, figure out exactly who is right and who is wrong, force ourselves to like everyone in our lives, move up the ladder, learn every skill, or win all the games people like us play. Jesus says, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light,” meaning: focus on the small steps Jesus lays out, steps that are basically all about loving others and showing mutual respect. No matter the enticements, the hooks, the goads, the compulsions, be where you are in every moment, and try to do as Jesus teaches. Let go of results and purify intent. And with that primary focus will come relief, rest, refreshment for the soul, the soul that is at peace with the source of its life. The noise will certainly continue, and some labors must continue, but where it matters, we’re at rest.

And the same holds true of our citizenship. We make the yoke heavy, but the yoke is in reality light—give thanks to God for freedom and independence, and hold that privilege and blessing above and before political rankling, complaining about taxes, and criticizing candidates. Think of the energy we would save, the labor we could be freed from if we just stopped arguing, for example, about Bush and Obama and McCain and just gave thanks for freedom and met our responsibility as citizens to cast our best effort vote in November.

There was an editorial in the Courant on the Fourth of July that talked about what feels like the precarious state of the nation, but concluded that, at least to my eyes, that the yoke really is lighter than we might think. It read, “With change comes opportunity: new ways of getting information, renewable sources of energy, a push toward public transportation, making do with less, more civic engagement, new national leadership. Unlike the Founders, who got around on horseback, we have the freedom to communicate instantly, to tap the best minds in the world. We have the technology and the confidence to solve problems once thought daunting and even insoluble. We need to have faith in ourselves and in the proven ability of America to withstand challenges.”

As a nation and as citizens, we have to continue working, but we need to trust more in the successes and solutions that freedom has brought and will bring, and be less immersed in and exhausted by the wrangling and anxiety and division over particular circumstances. By taking on the lighter burden of responsible citizenship, there is rest from worry and real reason to hope.

It is our lot to have to labor through life, that’s a given. But it is our human nature to add weight to that burden by playing games that really don’t get us anywhere. Jesus’ invitation is to take on his yoke, which is simply about working to love and respect each other, and not about the exhausting games of winning or blaming or running away or pretending or controlling outcomes. That is fundamental to faith in God, and to being part of this great country. Real rest from the labor is possible by accepting the lighter yoke, as disciples and as citizens. So, thanks be to God for the gentle and humble guidance of Jesus Christ, and for the freedom you and I enjoy that makes that work, and rest from it, more possible.