Bearing Burdens: Understanding the Galatians Paradox
Have you ever come across two verses in the Bible that seem to contradict each other and thought, "Wait a minute! What's going on here?" I certainly have! One such apparent contradiction appears in Galatians, where Paul seemingly gives us opposing instructions about burdens.
In Galatians 6:2, Paul tells us, "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ."
But just three verses later in Galatians 6:5, he states, "For every man shall bear his own burden."
So which is it, Paul? Are we supposed to help others with their burdens or let everyone carry their own? Is this a biblical blooper, or is there something deeper at play?
The answer lies in the original Greek text. When Paul wrote these passages, he used two different words for "burden," each with its own distinct meaning.
Wings of Courage
I woke up to birds chirping outside my window this morning, nature's not-so-subtle hint that the feeders were empty again. After bundling up against the Welsh morning chill, I headed out to the driveway with my humongous cup of birdseed.
I scattered handfuls across what I jokingly call the "neighborhood bird café," which is just a little spot under our hedgerow. Job done, I scurried back inside to watch the show from my office window. What happened next made me laugh out loud.
The local feathered residents had definitely spotted my offering. They lined up along the top of the hedge like they were waiting for a bus! Finches, sparrows, and a couple of cheeky robins all stared down at the seed buffet, heads tilted, not a single one making a move.
Seriously, not one bird budged.
The Sunflower’s Dance
Did you know sunflowers can dance?
While they may appear to be standing perfectly still, sunflowers actually make subtle, almost imperceptible movements called circumnutation. And even more remarkable, they grow in patterns that carefully avoid overshadowing their neighbors.
These aren't just plants selfishly stretching toward the light. They're dancing a choreographed routine that allows the entire field to flourish. Each sunflower adjusts its growth direction to prevent casting shadows on nearby plants. The result? Maximum sunlight absorption for the entire community.
This botanical ballet offers a beautiful picture of how the body of Christ is meant to operate.
In Romans 12:10, we're instructed, "Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another." These sunflowers live out this scripture in their own remarkable way, preferring their neighbors by ensuring they receive adequate light.
How often do we, as Christians, position ourselves to cast shadows over our brothers and sisters?
When Judgment Clouds Our Vision
Have you ever been quick to judge someone, only to later discover a whole backstory you never knew? I've been guilty of this too often. This tendency of the human heart recently hit me afresh when I re-examined the story of Moses striking the rock at Kadesh.
Like many believers, I've often viewed this account through a simplistic lens. God said, "Speak to the rock," but Moses struck it instead, and punishment ensued. An open-and-shut case of disobedience, right?
However, as I dug a little deeper into the passage this morning, something was revealed. Standing once again at Kadesh after forty years of wilderness wandering, Moses wasn't merely facing another water crisis; he was standing at the epicenter of Israel's greatest failure.
Imagine what must have raced through Moses' 120-year-old mind. Here he was, back at the scene of the crime, so to speak.
Planting the Seeds of Peace
I have a brown thumb. Actually, that's being generous. It's more like a thumb of death when it comes to plants. I've given up trying to grow anything because no matter how carefully I follow the instructions or how diligently I water and tend, most plants barely last a week before keeling over. My friends and family have learned not to gift me plants anymore, having witnessed too many botanical tragedies. Even my attempt at growing a supposedly unkillable miniature rosebush ended in disaster. (Who knew they could actually shrivel up and die from too much attention?)
Yet, despite my gardening failures, James 3:18 has been lingering in my thoughts lately: "And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace of them that make peace."
The imagery here is powerful. Peace isn't described as something we manufacture in a crisis.