Good morning. Nine years ago, my eldest grandson, now 13, was introduced to a master celloist. At that point in the man’s life, he was largely retired from performing with orchestras and was accepting a limited number of students. At age 4 my grandson was a little young to be chosen as a student, but for whatever reason the man liked Nathan and a teacher/student relationship began. Nathan continues to play the cello, quite well in the opinion of a proud grandpa. I believe that his teacher has passed away after a battle with cancer, but to introduce today’s thought I would like to tell you a bit of his story.
Mr. Park grew up in North Korea. He was recognized at an early age as having potential as a musician and as was their custom, he was taken from his family and placed in a “study school.” In time, he became a valued member of the celebrated North Korean orchestra. But Mr. Park had a secret. In his travels with the orchestra, one of the few jobs you can have in North Korea that allow a person to leave the country (although always under tight security), Mr. Park developed a dream. His secret dream was to some day make his way to the promised land, that place of freedom, that place of wealth and joy. His secret dream was to escape and find his way to America. He didn’t marry, and when his parents died, he knew that the only life at stake was his own. Previously, the North Korean government held the lives of family members as “incentive” to ensure obedience. Mr. Park’s journey was dangerous and difficult. But he made his way to America, and his secret dream came true.
His story is more dramatic than some, perhaps, but thousands upon thousands of people through the years have risked everything to make their way to America. Whether they knew of Emma Lazarus’ poem (which is attached to the base of the Statue of Liberty) may or may not apply, but they believed in the message. The poem is titled “The New Colossus”:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “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-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
It is a wonderful promise to those who seek freedom. It is a dream to aspire to for those who are exhausted from a life without hope. It is a beckoning call to those who are praying for an opportunity.
Consider the words of Jesus in Matthew 11:28-30. These words are His promise, and His offer of freedom, and hope, and opportunity. They are words that promise that any who will call upon Him will not walk alone, that He will share their burdens, and their suffering will be cared for. It is an offer that Jesus makes to us all:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Thousands of newcomers have entered our country. From a political standpoint, we may have a variety of views on that truth. But this much is sure: the promise on the Statue of Liberty, as voiced in Emma Lazarus’ poem is intriguing. The promise of Jesus Christ is greater. His promise is more certain. His promise is eternal.
It is the job of all who believe and have been saved in the Name of Jesus to share His Good News. This includes His promise to carry burdens and to welcome everyone to His side.
Come to the Lord, lay your burden down, accept His peace and His rest.
Vern