Pentecost 5A
July 5, 2026
Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
INTRODUCTION
In light of this weekend being the semiquincentennial (that’s a big word I recently learned!), it seemed only natural to approach this week’s texts with an eye toward freedom: what it looks like in our particular moment in history, and what it looks like for Lutheran Christians who start worship each week declaring not our freedom, but rather, that we are “captive to sin and cannot free ourselves.” With this lens, I noticed a few things, and want to ask you some questions to ponder for each reading while you listen:
Zechariah speaks to “prisoners of hope.” What do you suppose that means, to be a prisoner of hope? Where do you find the sort of hope to which you’d want to be a prisoner?
In Romans, Paul talks frankly about his captivity to his own bad decisions and judgment. “What’s wrong with me?” he asks. “I do not do the good I want, but the very evil I do not want is what I do.” Oh brother, I can relate! Why is that we struggle so much to get out from the burden of our poor choices?
And finally in the Gospel, Jesus will use the image of a yoke, presenting it as an image of comfort, as he calls upon us to take on his yoke, which is “easy” or light. How does it feel to celebrate freedom, even as we are yoked to Jesus?
Maybe you’ll hear other echoes of freedom in these texts. Listen carefully, to what God is saying to you this day.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.
In general, when it comes to preaching, I try to follow the advice of theologian Karl Barth: preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. Sometimes that means I venture into topics people might call “political,” but I work pretty hard at not being partisan, and I always strive to preach the gospel. Sometimes, frankly, speaking a word of Gospel to a current reality, even a political reality, is called for. What’s the point of the gospel if it is disconnected from our lives, if it doesn’t help us make sense of what is going on in the world around us? We are not, after all, Christian or the Church in a vacuum!
This weekend, as America celebrates our semiquincentennial, I think it feels appropriate to lean a little
more into our identity as both Americans and Christians. Now, don’t worry, I’m still not planning to be political or partisan (I promise you, I will always preach the gospel!). But I do want to talk today about a foundational value for both Christians and Americans: freedom. As I said in my introduction, I find in today’s texts many points that draw me into thinking about freedom – in this case, not American freedom, but our Christian freedom. The two are sometimes conflated, and increasingly so as many in the upper levels of government would like to see America be a Christian nation, never mind what our first amendment guarantees for people of all faith traditions. But while there are certainly shared values and some harmony between American ideals and Christian ideals, American freedom and Christian freedom are also quite different.
American freedom allows us to do, say, and believe whatever we want. And there is a sense of autonomy that goes with that, of rugged individualism, of personal work ethic: if you want to succeed, and you work hard, you will succeed! That’s the American dream!
Christian freedom, on the other hand, looks beyond our own desires. It compels us to use our personal freedoms not to serve ourselves, but to serve one another. As Christians, we believe not so much in the power of the individual, since we are all, as we say, “captive to sin and cannot free ourselves”; rather, we believe in the power of Christ, who has taken away the burden of sin, so that it no longer has such power over us. Because of Christ, our freedom looks instead like the ability to freely love and serve God and neighbor. That is: our freedom is not, ultimately, for us, but for our neighbor. (Of course, in some cases, our American freedom compels us to this, as well – we see it in military service members willing to give their lives for others, and in public servants and first responders, and activists who stand up for principles that will lead to liberty and justice for all, not just themselves. But I would argue that while American freedom sometimes is used for the benefit of others, Christian freedom always is.)
While this idea of freedom for others is hopeful and worthy of gratitude, today’s text from Romans shows us that this freedom business is also incredibly difficult – because even as we know what God desires from us and for us, it isn’t so easy to follow through. Paul offers this startling confession: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”
That is the difficulty with freedom, right? As well-intentioned as we may be, and even as certain as we may be at any given time about the rightness of our decisions, it seems too often that we end up doing the wrong thing. How many times have you said something like, “I shouldn’t say this, or do this, but….” Because, as Paul says, sin is constantly lurking at the door, just waiting for us, in all our freedom, to slip up a little bit so that sin can creep in there and take over our better judgment. “I know I shouldn’t, but…” is a constant refrain in our lives.
“I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” The first time I heard, really heard these words, I felt an immediate kinship with Paul. He suddenly became a real person to me, not just some writer and scholar from long ago. I realized: he struggled, too. This important man, with many churches named for him, including this one, whose writings made it into the Bible – even he struggled with sin, struggled to avoid doing things he knew were the wrong things to do. Turns out, we are all together in this human condition, where we mean well, but end up doing the very thing we know we shouldn’t. It happens in the highest levels of government and the Church, and it happens in our daily lives.
Even as misery enjoys company, though, we cannot stay there – and Paul doesn’t. Just when we start to feel that there is no hope, that our Christian or American freedom will only get us into trouble because as willing as our hearts may be, our flesh is too darn weak to uphold God’s law… Paul looks outward. “Wretched man that I am!” he exclaims. “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” We are not left on our own. We have the great gift of knowing that Jesus has our backs in this. As much as we love our American freedom, even the brilliance of the founding fathers could not guarantee that.
Anne Lamott, in her book, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, reflects on the growth and wisdom she has experienced in her life. She goes on for some pages about everything she has learned and gained through the various trials and stages of her life. She also comments, however, that she is not thrilled with what age and gravity have done to her body. In her wry, raw way, she writes, “Left to my own devices, would I trade all [that I have gained] for firm thighs, fewer wrinkles, a better memory? You bet I would. That is why it’s such a blessing that I am not left to my own devices.” Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!
And this brings us to Jesus’ wonderful words of comfort in our Gospel lesson, which are an assurance that we will never be left to our own devices, left to fend for ourselves, left always to do the right thing with the freedom we have been given, even as sin is lurking close at hand. Jesus says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you…” I used to think that taking Jesus’ yoke upon me was something like taking up Jesus’ cross – that is, taking on a burden, perhaps the burden of seeking justice in the world, or fixing all the broken systems, or feeding the hungry, with us pulling the load and Christ as the driver. But the thing about a yoke is that it is not for one animal. It is for two, two animals who are bound together to walk side-by-side and be a more powerful team than one can be alone. So when Christ bids us take his yoke upon us, he means that we should come and be yoked with him, bound together side-by-side – so that suddenly our personal burden no longer feels quite so heavy, because we bear it with Christ. Our freedom, which so often leads us into sin, is no longer about our individual abilities or effort, nor is it about our downfall, because we make decisions with Christ by our side, bearing some of the weight.
It is not only our personal burdens that are carried in this way. Under Christ’s yoke, we are prepared to bear the burdens of the world, even those we feel so heavily right now, and perhaps especially as we celebrate our Semiquincentennial. I love my country, and I cry with pride nearly every time I sing our National Anthem... and at the same time, there is much in our country to grieve right now. And so, with our God-given freedom for service, and with the strength of Christ and his yoke on our team, we do the hard work that we are called to do: standing up to the oppressor, seeking justice for the needy, showing mercy and compassion to those who are suffering, working toward a more perfect union. These are what our Christian freedom compels us to do, and now we are given the promise that we need not bear the burden of those tasks alone.
Freedom is a wonderful, beautiful thing, a gift worth celebrating, that has come to us by the grace of God through Jesus Christ. And, it can also be a burden, as we don’t always use it wisely, for the building up of others, but rather, we use it for our own self-promotion or self-preservation. Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord that we are not left to our own devices in this world, but rather are given the gift of Jesus’ own yoke, and the knowledge of God’s strength in carrying the burden of this world. May we use this gift for the benefit of our neighbor.
Let us pray… We give you thanks, O Lord, for our freedom. But even more we give you thanks that even in that freedom, we are not left to our own devices, but are always accompanied by the gentle, humble yoke of your Son. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
