First Reading - Isaiah 40:25-31
Gospel - Matthew 11:28-30
Every one of us knows what it feels like to be tired—not just physically, but in spirit. There are seasons when responsibilities increase, when problems multiply, and when our inner strength seems to fade. Today’s readings speak directly into that human experience, offering not just comfort but a deeper invitation to trust in the One who renews and restores.
Isaiah begins by addressing a people who feel forgotten by God and worn down by life. In their discouragement, the prophet reminds them that God is never weary, never limited, and never indifferent. While human strength fails and even the young stumble, those who place their hope in the Lord find renewed energy. They rise on wings like eagles, run without growing weary, and walk without fainting. The message is clear: strength does not come from pushing harder, but from relying more deeply on God, who faithfully lifts us when we cannot lift ourselves.
This promise finds its fullest expression in the words of Jesus in the Gospel. His invitation is both tender and powerful: Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. He does not ask the weary to pull themselves together or prove their worth. Instead, He offers His own heart—gentle, humble, and deeply understanding. He invites us to take His yoke, not to add weight to our shoulders, but to join our lives to His. When we walk with Him, burdens become lighter because they are carried in companionship and love.
Dear friends, these readings reveal a God who does not wait for us at the finish line of our strength, but who meets us precisely in our weakness. He restores not by removing every struggle, but by placing Himself beside us, sharing our load, and renewing us from within. The rest Jesus offers is not an escape from life’s demands, but a new way of carrying them—with Him, in Him, and through Him.
As we reflect, we might ask ourselves: Where am I most weary right now? And am I trying to carry that burden alone? Today’s Scriptures invite us to let God into those very places—not as a distant helper, but as our constant companion.
May we learn to lean on the God who never grows tired and who offers rest not as a luxury, but as a gift for every heart that trusts in Him.
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