Chapter 22
1 John 5:3 — His commandments are not grievous.
Containing an appendix to the Beatitudes.
You have seen what Christ calls for: poverty of spirit, purity of heart, meekness, mercifulness, cheerfulness in suffering persecution, and more. Now, that none may hesitate or be troubled at these commands of Christ, I thought it good as a closing to the former discourse to address the objections and prejudices in men's spirits, by this sweet, soothing scripture: His commandments are not grievous.
The world objects against religion that it is difficult and irksome (Malachi 1:13): behold, what a weariness it is! Therefore the Lord, that he may invite and encourage us to obedience, draws religion in its fair colors and represents it as beautiful and pleasant in these words: His commandments are not grievous. This may well be called a sweetening ingredient in religion, and may serve to remove the harshness and severity which the carnal world would put upon the ways of God.
For the clarification of the terms, let us consider two things.
What is meant here by commandments?
By this word commandments, I understand gospel precepts: faith, repentance, self-denial, and so forth.
What is meant by not grievous?
The Greek word signifies they are not tedious, or heavy to be borne; there is a meiosis in the words — his commands are not grievous — that is, they are easy, sweet, excellent.
Observe: none of God's commands are grievous. When he calls us to be meek, merciful, pure in heart, these commandments are not grievous (Matthew 11:30): my burden is light. The Greek word there for burden signifies the ballast of a ship, which glides through the waves so swiftly and easily as if the ship had no weight in it. Christ's commandments are like the ballast of a ship — useful, but not troublesome. All his precepts are sweet and easy; therefore called pleasantness (Proverbs 3:17). To illustrate this, consider two things.
First, why Christ lays commands upon his people. Second, that these commands are not grievous.
Why does Christ lay commands upon his people? There are two reasons.
In regard to Christ: it is suitable to his dignity and state; he is Lord Supreme. This name is written on his robe and on his thigh: King of Kings (Revelation 19:16). Shall not a King appoint laws to his subjects? It is one of the royal privileges — one of the crown jewels — to enact laws and statutes. Shall not Christ, by whom kings reign (Proverbs 8:15), put forth his royal decrees by which the world shall be governed?
In regard to the saints: it is well for the people of God that they have laws to bind and restrain the unruly tendencies of their hearts. How far would the vine spread its wild branches were it not pruned and tied? The heart would be ready to run wild in sin if it had not affliction to prune it and the laws of Christ to bind it. The precepts of Christ are called a yoke (Matthew 11:30); the yoke is useful — it keeps the oxen from straying and running off. So the precepts of Christ as a yoke keep the godly from straying into sin. Where should we not run, into what damnable opinions and practices, if Christ's laws did not lay a check and restraint upon us? Blessed be God for precepts — that is a blessed yoke which yokes our corruptions. We would run to hell were it not for this yoke. The laws of Christ are a spiritual fence which keeps the people of God within the pastures of his ordinances. Some who have broken this fence and wandered are now in the devil's pasture.
The second thing to demonstrate is that Christ's commands are not grievous. I confess they are grievous to the unregenerate person — to mourn for sin, to be pure in heart, to suffer persecution for righteousness' sake is hard to flesh and blood. Therefore Christ's commands are compared to bands and cords (Psalm 2) because carnal people look upon them that way. A carnal person is like an untamed heifer which will not endure the yoke but kicks and flings. To a person in the state of nature, Christ's commands are grievous.
Even to a child of God, so far as corruption prevails — for he is only partly renewed — Christ's laws may seem irksome. The flesh cries out that it cannot pray or suffer; the law in the members rebels against Christ's law. Only the spiritual part prevails and makes the flesh submit to Christ's requirements. A renewed person, so far as he is renewed, does not count God's commandments grievous — they are not a burden, but a delight.
Divine commands are not grievous if we consider them positively, in eight particulars.
A Christian consents to God's commands, therefore they are not grievous (Romans 7:16): I consent to the law that it is good. What is done with consent is easy; a godly person in his judgment approves of Christ's laws, and in his will consents to them, therefore they are not grievous. A wicked person is like a slave chained to the galley who must work whether he will or not, forced to pull the rope and tug at the oar. But a godly person is like a free subject who consents to his sovereign's laws and obeys out of choice, seeing the fairness and reasonableness of them. Thus a gracious heart sees the beauty and equity in the commands of heaven such that it draws forth consent, and this consent makes them not grievous.
They are Christ's commands, therefore not grievous. Take my yoke (Matthew 11:29); gospel commands are not the laws of a tyrant, but of a Savior. The husband's commands are not grievous to a loving wife; it is her desire to obey. So says a gracious soul: Lord, if it is you who would have me mourn for sin and breathe after heart-purity; if it is you, dear Savior, who bids me do these things, I will cheerfully obey. Your commandments are not grievous. A soldier at the word of his general makes a brave advance.
Christians obey out of a principle of love, and then God's commandments are not grievous. Therefore in scripture, serving and loving God are put together (Isaiah 56:6). Nothing is grievous to him who loves; love lightens a burden and adds wings to obedience. A heart that loves God counts nothing tedious but its own dullness and slowness of motion; love makes sin heavy and Christ's burden light.
A Christian is carried by the help of the Spirit, and the Spirit makes every duty easy (Romans 8:26): the Spirit helps our weaknesses. The Spirit works in us both to will and to do (Philippians 2). When God enables us to do what he commands, then his commandments are not grievous. If two carry a burden it is easier; the Spirit of God helps us to do duties and bear burdens, drawing as it were in the yoke with us. If the teacher guides the child's hand and helps it form its letters, it is not hard for the child to write. If the Holy Spirit as a divine magnet draws and moves the heart, it is not hard to obey. When the bird has wings given to it, it can fly. Though the soul of itself is unable to do what is good, yet having two wings given to it — the wing of faith and the wing of the Spirit — it now flies swiftly in obedience (Ezekiel 11:1). The heart is lifted heavenward in prayer when the Spirit lifts it up. The sails of a mill cannot move of themselves, but when the wind blows they turn round; when a breath of the Spirit blows upon the soul, the sails of the affections move swiftly in duty.
All Christ's commands are beneficial, therefore not grievous (Deuteronomy 10:12-13): what does the Lord your God require of you but to fear the Lord your God, to love him, to keep his statutes which I command you this day for your good? Christ's commands carry blessing in them — salvation runs along in every precept. To obey Christ's laws is not so much duty as privilege; all Christ's commands center in blessedness. Medicine is in itself very unpleasant, yet because it tends to health no one refuses it. Divine precepts may be irksome to the flesh, yet having such excellent effect as to make us both holy and happy, they are not to be counted grievous. The apprentice willingly wrestles with the hard difficulties of arts and sciences because they both ennoble and advance him. That suffering is not grievous which leads to a crown. This made Paul say: I take pleasure in weaknesses, in persecutions (2 Corinthians 12:10).
It is honorable to be under Christ's commands; therefore they are not grievous. The precepts of Christ do not burden us, but adorn us. It is an honor to be employed in Christ's service. How cheerfully did the rowers row the barge that carried Caesar; the honor makes the precept easy. A crown of gold is in itself heavy, but the honor of the crown makes it light and easy to be worn. I may say of every command of Christ as Solomon speaks of wisdom (Proverbs 4:9): she shall give to your head an ornament of grace; a crown of glory shall she deliver to you. It is honorable working at court; the honor of Christ's yoke makes it easy and eligible.
Christ's commands are sweetened with joy, and then they are not grievous. Cicero asks whether that can properly be called a burden which is carried with joy and pleasure. When the wheels of a chariot are oiled they run swiftly; when God pours in the oil of gladness, how fast does the soul run in the ways of his commandments! Joy strengthens for duty (Nehemiah 8:10): the joy of the Lord is your strength. And the more strength, the less weariness; God sometimes drops down comfort, and then a Christian can run in the yoke.
Gospel commands are finite, therefore not grievous. Christ will not always be laying his commands upon us; he will shortly take off the yoke from our neck and set a crown upon our head. A time is coming when we shall be free not only from our sins but from the forms of our duties too. In heaven there will be no need for prayer or repentance; duties shall cease there. In heaven the saints shall love God, but love is no burden. In heaven the saints shall praise God, but their praising of him shall be so sweetened with delight that it will not be a duty any more, but part of their reward. It is the angels' heaven to praise God. This then makes Christ's commands not grievous — though they are spiritual, they are temporary; it is but a little while and duties shall be no more. The saints shall not so much be under commands as in the embrace of God.
Let us consider Christ's commands comparatively, and we shall see they are not grievous. Compare gospel commands with four things.
The list: with the severity of the moral law; with the commands of sin; with the torments of the damned; with the glory of heaven.
Christ's commands in the gospel are not grievous compared with the severity of the moral law. The moral law was such a burden as neither we nor our fathers could bear (Galatians 3:10): cursed is everyone who does not continue in all things written in the book of the law to do them. The golden mandates of the gospel are comparatively easy.
In the gospel, if there is a desire to keep God's commandments, it is accepted (Nehemiah 1:11; 2 Corinthians 8:12): if there is first a willing mind, it is accepted. Though a person had had the best intentions to fulfill the moral law, it would not have been accepted — he must actually have obeyed (Galatians 3:12). But in the gospel, God crowns the desire. If a Christian says in humility: Lord, I desire to obey you, I would be more holy — this desire, springing from love, is accepted.
In the gospel a surety is admitted. The law would not admit of a surety; it required personal obedience. But now God so graciously provides that what we cannot of ourselves do, we may do through a substitute. Christ is called the guarantor of a better covenant (Hebrews 7:22). We cannot walk so exactly; we fall short in everything. But God looks upon us in our surety, and Christ having fulfilled all righteousness, it is as if we had fulfilled the law in our own persons.
The law commanded and threatened, but gave no strength to perform. But now God with his commands gives power; gospel precepts are sweetened with promises. God commands: make yourself a new heart (Ezekiel 18:31). Lord, can I make a new heart? I can as well make a new world. But see Ezekiel 36:26: a new heart also will I give you. God commands us to cleanse ourselves (Isaiah 1:16): wash you, make yourselves clean. Then see the precept turned into a promise (Ezekiel 36:25): from all your filthiness and from your idols will I cleanse you. If when the child cannot walk the father takes it by the hand and leads it, it is not hard for the child to walk. When we cannot walk, God takes us by the hand (Hosea 11:3): I taught Ephraim also to walk, taking them by their arms.
In the gospel God overlooks weaknesses where the heart is right. The law called for perfect obedience; it would have meant death to fall even slightly short of the mark. It is as with our best duties as with gold — put the gold in the fire and you will see dross come out. But in the gospel, though God will not endure willful halting, yet he will pass by frailty. Thus Christ's commands in the gospel are not grievous compared with the severity of the moral law.
Christ's commands are not grievous compared with the commands of sin. Sin lays a heavy yoke upon people. Sin is compared to a talent of lead (Zechariah 5:7), to show its heaviness. The commands of sin are burdensome; let a man be under the power and rage of any lust — whether covetousness or ambition — how he tires and tortures himself! They weary themselves to commit iniquity (Jeremiah 9:5). Are not Christ's precepts easy and sweet in comparison of sin's harsh and inexorable commands? Chrysostom says well that virtue is easier than vice; temperance is less burdensome than drunkenness; doing justice is less burdensome than violence. There is more difficulty and perplexity in the contrivance and pursuit of wicked ends than in obeying the sweet and gentle precepts of Christ. A wicked person is said to labor with iniquity (Psalm 7:14), showing what anxious pain and trouble he has in bringing about his wickedness. Many have gone with more pain to hell than others have to heaven.
Christ's commands are not grievous compared with the grievous torments of the damned. The rich man cries out: I am tormented in this flame (Luke 16:24). Hell-fire is so inconceivably tormenting that the wicked know not how either to bear or to avoid it. The torment of the damned may be compared to a yoke, and it differs from other yokes — usually the yoke is laid only on the neck of the beast, but the hell-yoke is laid upon every part of the sinner. His eyes shall behold nothing but bloody tragedies; his ears shall hear the groans and shrieks of blaspheming spirits. He shall suffer in every member of his body and every faculty of his soul, and this agony, though violent, is perpetual. The yoke of the damned shall never be taken off. Sinners might break the golden chain of God's commands, but they cannot break the iron chain of his punishments.
Are not gospel commands easy in comparison to the torments of hell? What does Christ command? He bids you repent — is it not better to weep for sin than bleed for it? Christ bids you pray in your families and private rooms; is not praying better than crying out in anguish? He bids you keep the Sabbath holy; is it not better to keep a holy rest to the Lord than to be forever without rest? Hell is a restless place; there is no intermission of torment for a single moment. Are not Christ's commands sweet and easy in comparison to the unbearable pains of the condemned? Is not obeying better than being damned? Are not the cords of love better than the chains of darkness?
Gospel commands are not grievous compared with the glory of heaven. What an infinite difference there is between service and reward! What are all the saints' labors and struggles in religion compared with the crown of recompense? The weight of glory makes duty light.
Here is an encouraging argument for religion: how this may make us in love with the ways of God! His commandments are not grievous. Believers are not now under the thundering curses of the law, nor the ceremonies of it, which were both numerous and burdensome. The ways of God are just; his statutes are desirable. He bids us mourn, that we may be comforted. He bids us be poor in spirit, that he may settle a kingdom upon us. God is no hard Master; his commandments are not grievous. Serve God out of choice. Think of the joy, the honor, the reward of godliness. Never grudge God your service; whatever he prescribes, let your heart subscribe.
This reproves those who refuse to obey these sweet and gentle commands of Christ (Psalm 81:11): Israel would have none of me. The generality of men choose rather to put their neck in the devil's yoke than to submit to the sweet and easy yoke of Christ. What should be the reason that, when God's commandments are not grievous, his ways are pleasantness and his service perfect freedom, yet men should not submit to Christ's scepter nor bow to his laws?
The cause is the inborn hatred which is naturally in people's hearts against Christ. Sinners are called God-haters (Romans 1:30); sin begets not only a dislike of the ways of God, but hatred. From disaffection flows disloyalty (Luke 19:14): his citizens hated him, and sent a message saying, we will not have this man to reign over us.
Besides this inborn hatred against Christ, the devil works to fan the coals and increase this hostility. He spreads an evil report upon religion, as those spies did concerning Canaan (Numbers 13:32): they brought up an evil report of the land. Satan says God is a hard Master and his commandments are grievous. It is the devil's design, as the sons of Eli did, to make the offering of God to be despised (1 Samuel 2:17). The devil raises in people's hearts two particular prejudices against Christ and his ways.
The first prejudice is the small number of those who embrace religion. The way of Christ is but a narrow path (Psalm 119:35), while the way of pleasure and vanity is the broad road. Many ignorantly conclude that the way most people travel must be the best way.
There are but few who are saved — and will you not be saved because so few are saved? A person does not argue this way in other things: there are but few who are rich, therefore I will not be rich. Rather, he strives all the more to be rich. Why should we not argue wisely about our souls? There are but few who go to heaven, therefore we will labor all the more to be of that number.
What a weak argument this is: there are but few who embrace religion, therefore you will not? Those things which are most excellent are most rare; there are but few pearls and diamonds. The small number of those who embrace religion argues that the way of religion is excellent.
We are warned not to go with the crowd (Exodus 23:2); most fish go into the devil's net.
The second prejudice is that the ways of religion are made to appear ugly by the scandals of those who profess it.
I acknowledge the luster of religion has been much eclipsed and sullied by the scandals of people; this is an age of scandals. Many have made the pretense of religion a key to open the door to all ungodliness; never was God's name more taken in vain. This is what our Savior foretold (Matthew 18:7): it must needs be that offenses come. But to remove this prejudice: consider first, scandals are not from religion, but for want of religion. Second, religion is not the worse, though some abuse it. To dislike religion because some of its professors are scandalous is as if one should say: because the servant is dishonest, therefore I will not have a good opinion of his master. Is Christ the less glorious because some that wear his livery are scandalous? Is religion the worse because some of her followers are bad? Is wine the worse because some are intemperate? Shall a woman dislike chastity because some of her neighbors are unchaste? Let us argue soberly; judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment (John 7:24).
God sometimes allows scandals to occur in the church out of design.
As a just judgment upon hypocrites — these double-minded devotees who serve God for their own ends, the Lord in justice allows to fall into disgraceful practices, that he may expose their baseness to the world. Judas: first a sly hypocrite, afterward a visible traitor.
Scandals also serve to harden the profane; some desperate sinners would never be won by religion — they shall be wounded by it. God lets scandals occur to be a stumbling block to people, drawing them deeper into sin. Christ is to some a rock of offense (Romans 9:33); his blood which is to some a balm is to others a poison. If the beauty of religion does not attract, the scandals of some of its followers shall drive people toward ruin.
Scandals in the church are also for the caution of the godly; the Lord would have his people walk carefully (Romans 11:20): be not proud, but fear. The scandals of professors are not to discourage us, but to warn us; let us tread more carefully. The failures of others are warnings for the saints to heed. Let all this serve to remove these prejudices from religion; though Satan may try to make the gospel seem repulsive, there is beauty and glory in it. God's commandments are not grievous.
Let me persuade all people to heartily embrace the ways of God; his commandments are not grievous. God never burdens us but to unburden us of our sins. His commands are our privileges; there is joy in the way of duty, and heaven at the end.
1 John 5:3 — "His commandments are not burdensome."
An appendix to the Beatitudes.
You have seen what Christ calls us to: poverty of spirit, purity of heart, meekness, mercifulness, joyful endurance of persecution, and more. So that no one should hesitate or be put off by these commands of Christ, I thought it fitting to close the previous discussion by addressing the objections and reservations in people's hearts — through this sweet and encouraging text: "His commandments are not burdensome."
The world objects that religion is demanding and oppressive (Malachi 1:13): "What a weariness it is!" So the Lord, in order to draw us toward obedience, presents religion in its true and beautiful colors. He shows it to be attractive and pleasant in these words: "His commandments are not burdensome." This verse is a sweetening element in religion — it removes the harshness and severity that the worldly-minded project onto God's ways.
To clarify the terms, let us consider two things.
What is meant here by "commandments"?
By this word I understand the Gospel's requirements: faith, repentance, self-denial, and the like.
What is meant by "not burdensome"?
The Greek word means not tedious or heavy to carry. The expression is an understatement — "His commands are not burdensome" actually means they are easy, sweet, and excellent.
Notice: none of God's commands are burdensome. When He calls us to be meek, merciful, and pure in heart, these commands are not burdensome (Matthew 11:30): "My burden is light." The Greek word for burden there refers to the ballast of a ship — which allows the ship to glide through the waves so swiftly and smoothly that it seems to carry no weight at all. Christ's commands are like that ballast — useful, but not oppressive. All His precepts are sweet and easy, which is why they are called "pleasant ways" (Proverbs 3:17). To illustrate this, consider two things.
First, why Christ places commands on His people. Second, that these commands are not burdensome.
Why does Christ place commands on His people? There are two reasons.
First, in regard to Christ Himself: it fits His dignity and authority. He is the supreme Lord. This title is written on His robe and on His thigh: "King of Kings" (Revelation 19:16). Should not a King establish laws for His subjects? Enacting laws and statutes is one of the royal privileges — one of the crown jewels of sovereignty. Should not Christ, through whom kings reign (Proverbs 8:15), issue His royal decrees by which the world is governed?
Second, in regard to the saints: it is good for God's people to have laws that bind and restrain the unruly tendencies of their hearts. How wildly would a grapevine spread its branches if it were never pruned and trained? In the same way, the heart would run wild in sin if it did not have affliction to prune it and Christ's laws to guide it. Christ's precepts are called a yoke (Matthew 11:30). A yoke is useful — it keeps the oxen from straying and running off. Similarly, Christ's precepts keep the godly from wandering into sin. Where would we not end up — into what destructive beliefs and practices — if Christ's laws did not check and restrain us? Blessed be God for His precepts. That is a blessed yoke that restrains our corruption. Without this yoke, we would run straight to hell. Christ's laws are a spiritual fence that keeps God's people within the pastures of His ordinances. Some who have broken through that fence and wandered are now grazing in the devil's pasture.
The second thing to demonstrate is that Christ's commands are not burdensome. I grant that they are burdensome to an unregenerate person. To mourn over sin, to be pure in heart, to endure persecution for righteousness' sake — all of this is hard to flesh and blood. This is why Christ's commands are compared in Psalm 2 to chains and cords — because worldly-minded people experience them that way. An unregenerate person is like an untamed heifer that will not accept the yoke but kicks and bucks. To someone still in their natural state, Christ's commands feel burdensome.
Even to a child of God, to the degree that corruption still holds sway — for he is only partially renewed — Christ's laws can feel burdensome at times. The flesh protests that it cannot pray or endure suffering. The sinful inclinations of the body fight against Christ's law. But the spiritual part prevails and brings the flesh into submission to what Christ requires. A renewed person, in the degree to which he has been renewed, does not find God's commandments burdensome. To him they are not a weight but a delight.
God's commands are not burdensome when we consider them rightly, for eight reasons.
First, a Christian consents to God's commands — and so they are not burdensome (Romans 7:16): "I agree with the law, that the law is good." What is done with wholehearted agreement is easy. A godly person approves of Christ's laws in his mind and consents to them in his will — and so they are not burdensome. A wicked person is like a slave chained to a galley, forced to work whether he wants to or not — pulling the rope and rowing under compulsion. But a godly person is like a free citizen who consents to his sovereign's laws and obeys by choice, recognizing their fairness and wisdom. A grace-filled heart sees such beauty and rightness in heaven's commands that it draws forth genuine consent — and that consent makes them not burdensome.
Second, they are Christ's commands — and that is why they are not burdensome. "Take My yoke upon you" (Matthew 11:29). The commands of the Gospel are not the laws of a tyrant but of a Savior. A husband's commands are not burdensome to a wife who loves him — she desires to obey. In the same way, a grace-filled soul says: "Lord, if it is You who asks me to mourn over sin and long for purity of heart — if it is You, dear Savior, who bids me do these things — I will obey with gladness." "Your commandments are not burdensome." A soldier advances bravely at the word of his general.
Third, Christians obey out of love — and when love is the motive, God's commandments are not burdensome. This is why Scripture joins serving and loving God together (Isaiah 56:6). Nothing feels burdensome to the one who loves. Love lightens any load and adds wings to obedience. A heart that loves God finds nothing tedious except its own sluggishness and slowness. Love makes sin feel heavy and Christ's burden feel light.
Fourth, a Christian is carried along by the help of the Spirit — and the Spirit makes every duty manageable (Romans 8:26): "The Spirit helps us in our weakness." The Spirit works in us both the desire and the ability to obey (Philippians 2:13). When God enables us to do what He commands, His commandments are not burdensome. When two carry a load, it is lighter. The Spirit of God helps us perform our duties and bear our burdens — drawing alongside us, as it were, in the same yoke. When a teacher guides a child's hand and helps it form each letter, writing is not hard for the child. When the Holy Spirit, like a divine magnet, draws and moves the heart, obedience is not hard. When a bird is given wings, it can fly. Though the soul on its own cannot do what is good, it has been given two wings — the wing of faith and the wing of the Spirit — and now it flies swiftly in obedience (Ezekiel 1:1). The heart rises toward God in prayer when the Spirit lifts it. The sails of a windmill cannot move on their own — but when the wind blows, they turn rapidly. When a breath of the Spirit blows on the soul, the sails of our affections move swiftly in duty.
Fifth, all of Christ's commands are beneficial — and therefore not burdensome (Deuteronomy 10:12-13): "What does the Lord your God require of you but to fear the Lord your God, to love Him... to keep the commandments of the Lord... for your good?" Christ's commands carry blessing within them — salvation runs through every precept. Obeying Christ's laws is not so much a duty as a privilege. All of Christ's commands point toward blessedness. Medicine is unpleasant in itself, yet because it restores health no one refuses it. God's precepts may feel demanding to the flesh, yet since their effect is to make us both holy and happy, they are not to be counted burdensome. An apprentice gladly wrestles with the hard demands of learning his trade because it will ennoble and advance him. Suffering that leads to a crown is not grievous. This is what led Paul to say: "I take pleasure in weaknesses, in persecutions" (2 Corinthians 12:10).
Sixth, it is an honor to be under Christ's commands — and therefore they are not burdensome. Christ's precepts do not weigh us down; they adorn us. It is an honor to be employed in Christ's service. How cheerfully the oarsmen rowed the barge that carried Caesar! Honor makes labor easy. A crown of gold is heavy in itself, but the dignity it represents makes it light and easy to wear. I may say of every command of Christ what Solomon says of wisdom (Proverbs 4:9): "She will give to your head a garland of grace; she will bestow on you a beautiful crown." It is an honor to work at the royal court. The honor of Christ's yoke makes it easy and desirable.
Seventh, Christ's commands are sweetened with joy — and that makes them not burdensome. Cicero asks whether anything can properly be called a burden if it is carried with joy and pleasure. When the wheels of a chariot are oiled, they turn freely. When God pours in the oil of gladness, how swiftly the soul runs in the ways of His commandments! Joy gives strength for duty (Nehemiah 8:10): "The joy of the Lord is your strength." Greater strength means less weariness. God sometimes pours down comfort — and then a Christian runs freely in the yoke.
Eighth, Gospel commands are temporary — and therefore not burdensome. Christ will not be laying commands on us forever. He will soon take the yoke from our neck and place a crown upon our head. A time is coming when we will be free not only from sin but from the very forms of duty. In heaven there will be no need for prayer or repentance. Duties as we know them will end. In heaven the saints will love God — but love is no burden. In heaven the saints will praise God — but their praise will be so filled with delight that it will no longer feel like a duty at all. It will be part of their reward. It is the angels' own joy to praise God. This is one more reason Christ's commands are not burdensome: though they are spiritually demanding, they are temporary. It will not be long before duties as we know them are no more. The saints will not so much be under commands as they will be in the embrace of God.
We can also see that Christ's commands are not burdensome by comparison. Consider them alongside four other things.
The list: the severity of the moral law; the commands of sin; the torments of the condemned; and the glory of heaven.
First, Christ's Gospel commands are not burdensome compared to the severity of the moral law. The moral law was a burden neither we nor our ancestors could bear (Galatians 3:10): "Cursed is everyone who does not abide by all things written in the Book of the Law, to perform them." The gracious requirements of the Gospel are, by comparison, easy.
In the Gospel, if there is a genuine desire to keep God's commandments, that desire is accepted (Nehemiah 1:11; 2 Corinthians 8:12): "If the readiness is there, it is acceptable." Under the moral law, the best of intentions would not have been enough — actual obedience was required (Galatians 3:12). But in the Gospel, God crowns the desire. If a Christian says humbly: "Lord, I desire to obey You — I long to be more holy" — that desire, rising from love, is accepted.
In the Gospel, a guarantor is permitted. The law allowed no substitute; it required personal obedience. But now God graciously arranges it so that what we cannot do ourselves, we may do through a substitute. Christ is called the guarantor of a better covenant (Hebrews 7:22). We cannot walk perfectly — we fall short in everything. But God looks at us in our guarantor. And since Christ has fulfilled all righteousness, it is as though we ourselves had fulfilled the law.
The law commanded and threatened but gave no strength to obey. But now God couples His commands with power. Gospel precepts are sweetened with promises. God commands: "Make yourselves a new heart" (Ezekiel 18:31). Lord, can I make a new heart? I might as well be asked to make a new world. But see Ezekiel 36:26: "A new heart also will I give you." God commands us to cleanse ourselves (Isaiah 1:16): "Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean." Then see the precept turned into a promise (Ezekiel 36:25): "I will cleanse you from all your filthiness and from all your idols." When a child cannot walk, the father takes the child by the hand and leads it — and then walking is not hard. When we cannot walk, God takes us by the hand (Hosea 11:3): "I taught Ephraim to walk, taking them by their arms."
In the Gospel, God overlooks weakness when the heart is right. The law demanded perfect obedience. The slightest failure was enough to bring condemnation. It is the same with our best duties as with gold — put gold in the fire and you will see dross come out. But in the Gospel, while God will not excuse willful disobedience, He does pass over genuine frailty. In this way, Christ's Gospel commands are not burdensome when compared to the severity of the moral law.
Second, Christ's commands are not burdensome compared to the commands of sin. Sin lays a heavy yoke on people. Sin is compared to a talent of lead (Zechariah 5:7) — to show just how heavy it is. The demands of sin are truly oppressive. Let a person be gripped by any controlling desire — whether greed or ambition — and see how he exhausts and torments himself. "They weary themselves committing iniquity" (Jeremiah 9:5). Are not Christ's precepts easy and sweet compared to sin's harsh and relentless demands? Chrysostom rightly says that virtue is easier than vice. Temperance is less of a burden than drunkenness; doing justice is less burdensome than violence. There is more trouble and anxiety in the planning and pursuit of wicked ends than in simply obeying Christ's gentle precepts. The wicked are described as "laboring with iniquity" (Psalm 7:14) — showing the anxious effort required to carry out their wickedness. Many have taken more pain to reach hell than others have taken to reach heaven.
Third, Christ's commands are not burdensome compared to the torments of the condemned. The rich man in torment cries out: "I am in agony in this flame" (Luke 16:24). Hell's fire is so beyond comprehension that the wicked know neither how to bear it nor escape it. The torment of the condemned can be compared to a yoke — but it differs from ordinary yokes. Usually a yoke rests only on the neck of the animal. The yoke of hell rests on every part of the sinner. His eyes will see nothing but horrifying scenes. His ears will hear only the groans and shrieks of tormented spirits. He will suffer in every member of his body and every faculty of his soul — and this agony, though violent, is perpetual. The yoke of the condemned will never be taken off. Sinners may break the golden chain of God's commands — but they cannot break the iron chain of His punishment.
Are not Gospel commands easy compared to the torments of hell? What does Christ command? He calls you to repent — is it not better to weep for sin than to bleed for it? Christ calls you to pray in your family and in private — is not praying better than crying out in anguish? He calls you to keep the Sabbath holy — is it not better to rest in the Lord than to be forever without rest? Hell is a restless place — there is not a single moment's relief from its torment. Are not Christ's commands sweet and easy compared to the unbearable suffering of the condemned? Is it not better to obey than to be damned? Are not cords of love better than chains of darkness?
Fourth, Gospel commands are not burdensome compared to the glory of heaven. What an infinite difference there is between service and reward! What are all the saints' labors and struggles in the life of faith compared to the crown that awaits them? The weight of coming glory makes every present duty feel light.
Here is an argument that should fill us with love for God's ways: "His commandments are not burdensome." Believers are no longer under the thundering curses of the law, nor under its ceremonial requirements — which were both numerous and demanding. God's ways are right; His statutes are desirable. He calls us to mourn, so that we may be comforted. He calls us to be poor in spirit, so that He may settle a kingdom on us. God is no hard Master. His commandments are not burdensome. Serve God out of free choice. Think of the joy, the honor, and the reward that come with godliness. Never begrudge God your service. Whatever He commands, let your heart subscribe to it.
This rebukes those who refuse to embrace these sweet and gentle commands of Christ (Psalm 81:11): "Israel would have none of Me." Most people prefer to put their neck in the devil's yoke rather than submit to the easy and pleasant yoke of Christ. Why, when God's commandments are not burdensome — when His ways are pleasantness and His service is perfect freedom — do people still refuse to submit to Christ's rule and bow to His law?
The cause is the deep-seated hostility that naturally lives in the human heart against Christ. Sinners are called God-haters (Romans 1:30). Sin produces not merely a dislike of God's ways but active hatred. From that inward hostility flows outright rebellion (Luke 19:14): "His citizens hated him and sent a delegation saying, 'We do not want this man to reign over us.'"
Beyond this natural hatred against Christ, the devil works to stoke the fire and inflame it further. He spreads false reports about religion — as the spies did about Canaan (Numbers 13:32): "They brought back a bad report of the land." Satan says God is a hard Master and His commandments are burdensome. It is the devil's aim — as the sons of Eli did — to make the offering of God despised (1 Samuel 2:17). The devil raises two specific prejudices in people's hearts against Christ and His ways.
The first prejudice is the small number of those who embrace religion. The path of Christ is narrow (Psalm 119:35), while the road of pleasure and vanity is wide. Many people foolishly conclude that the road most people walk must be the best road.
Few are saved — but will you refuse to be saved simply because few are saved? No one reasons this way in everyday life: there are few wealthy people, therefore I will not try to be wealthy. On the contrary, that makes him work all the harder to achieve it. Why do we not reason wisely about our souls? Few people go to heaven — therefore let us labor all the more to be among that number.
What a weak argument: few embrace religion, therefore you will not? The most excellent things are the most rare — there are few pearls and diamonds in the world. The small number of those who embrace religion is evidence of how excellent it truly is.
We are warned not to follow the crowd (Exodus 23:2). Most fish swim into the devil's net.
The second prejudice is that religion's ways are made to look ugly by the scandalous conduct of those who claim to follow it.
I acknowledge that the beauty of religion has been greatly dimmed and tarnished by the scandals of its professors. This is an age full of scandal. Many have used the appearance of religion as a key to unlock every form of ungodliness. God's name has rarely been taken in vain more freely. Our Savior foretold this (Matthew 18:7): "It is inevitable that stumbling blocks come." But to clear away this prejudice, consider: first, scandals arise not from religion itself but from a lack of true religion. Second, religion is not made worse by those who abuse it. To dislike religion because some who profess it live scandalously is like saying: because the servant is dishonest, I will think badly of his master. Is Christ less glorious because some who wear His name live disgracefully? Is religion made worse because some of its followers are wicked? Is wine made worse because some people drink too much of it? Should a woman despise chastity because some of her neighbors are unchaste? Let us reason clearly. "Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment" (John 7:24).
God sometimes allows scandals to occur in the church by design.
First, as a just judgment on hypocrites — those double-minded devotees who serve God for their own ends. God in His justice allows them to fall into disgraceful behavior, exposing their true nature to the world. Judas is the pattern: first a subtle hypocrite, then a visible traitor.
Scandals also serve to harden those who are determined to remain in sin. Some desperate sinners would never be drawn to God by religion's beauty — so they will instead be judged by its stumbling blocks. God allows scandals to function as a trap, drawing such people deeper into sin. Christ is to some a stumbling stone (Romans 9:33). His blood, which is a healing balm to some, is poison to others. If the beauty of religion does not attract people, the scandals of some of its followers will drive them further toward ruin.
Scandals in the church also serve as a warning to the godly. The Lord would have His people walk with care (Romans 11:20): "Do not be proud, but fear." The scandals of professing Christians are not meant to discourage us but to caution us. Let us step more carefully. The failures of others are warning signs for the saints to take seriously. Let all of this serve to remove these prejudices against religion. Though Satan tries to make the Gospel look repulsive, there is beauty and glory in it. God's commandments are not burdensome.
Let me urge everyone to embrace God's ways wholeheartedly. His commandments are not burdensome. God never places a burden on us except to unburden us of our sins. His commands are our privileges. There is joy in the path of duty, and heaven waits at the end of it.
