by Rev Greg Obong-Oshotse 30 October 2020
Text: Matthew 11:28 “Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
At the base of the Statue of Liberty in New York are the words of Emma Lazarus:
“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.”
Originally written to raise funds for the statute’s pedestal, many immigrants who streamed into the United States, especially in the early 20th century, nevertheless saw in those words and the statute’s uplifted torch a picture of hospitality welcoming them to their new world as their ship arrived at Ellis island. And many of them went on to stellar careers and hugely rewarding vocations never to be regretted.
Even better, Christ offers an invitation into eternal rewards. He says, Come. That has to be the most powerful use of the word ever. Here the word is at its most welcoming as a verb in all of literature, oral and written. It must also be its most prestigious deployment. Uttered first about 2,000 years ago, it remains in force. Like a neon sign at a motel in the middle of nowhere beckoning weary travellers to a refreshing rest. Or a lighthouse that never goes off duty. Come. A personal invitation from the Lord of the Universe. The Master of all creation. The King of kings. The Saviour of the world. The Almighty God. To Come is to trust Him and receive Him as Saviour, Lord and King of your life. To go to Him is to hear and to relish that invitation anew every day. To trust and walk and live and die with Him. Come. Let’s go.
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Prayer Dear Father thank You for Your ever-loving invitation in Christ’s name, Amen.