My grandfather was a great man and he taught me many things. Something he enjoyed and tried to pass on was his love for the outdoors – hiking, camping, floating and fishing. Each year he got together with some friends for a two-day, two-night camping and floating trip on the Buffalo River and he would invite one or two of his grandchildren. When I was about 10, I was finally old enough to get the invitation.

I had never floated before, and as that first day dawned, I was nervous and excited! I was paired with one of the men in the group. And because I was inexperienced, I was put in the front of the boat. I was told to listen to the voice of the guy in back and do what he told me to do. After a couple of quick lessons, we were off!

I quickly discovered I was in over my head! Rapid after rapid, the man in back frantically shouted instructions at me, first telling me to put my paddle on the right, then on the left, then, “No, no! On the right!” We were bouncing off rocks and submerged debris, getting stuck and going off course. As the day progressed, my anxiety grew with each approaching set of rapids. And toward the end of the day, at a well-known place called Gray Rock, we finally succumbed and capsized.

I felt like a failure. The day was miserable, and the worst was that we would have to do it all again the next day! I dreaded it.  

But around the campfire that night, my grandfather took me aside and said, “Tomorrow is going to be a great day! I want you to get in the boat with me.”

That following morning, by the time we rounded the first bend in the river, it became apparent that this day would be different than the previous one.

The sound of my grandfather’s voice was gentle and constant. He obviously knew what he was doing. He calmly told me what to look for, possible dangers under the water. He taught me different strokes and techniques. When he told me to paddle hard, his voice was not frantic with fear but filled with the excitement of adventure. And he was paddling hard, too! We were a team, but he was the one steering the boat.

Between day one and day two, the river had not changed. The water was just as fast. The rapids and possible dangers were the same. But instead of being frustrated and anxious, the experience was one of wonder and joy. Being in the boat with my grandfather made all the difference. And since that time, I have loved floating – especially on the Buffalo River!

Jesus tells us in Matthew 11, “Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.” (Matthew 11:29-30)

Jesus invites us to come to him and take his yoke upon us. We may not realize it, but every one of us wears a yoke, so to speak. Each of us follows something or someone. And we are being formed by who or what we follow.

And we yoke ourselves to all kinds of things and we follow all sorts of voices: The voice of success, of pressure to get ahead; materialism; perfectionism; performance; people-pleasing; addiction. We listen to the loud voice of our culture and social media, the voice of shame, the voice of worry and anxiety, the voice of legalism and checking all the right boxes to please God.

But then, we hear the voice of Jesus saying, “Come to me. Follow me. Take MY yoke upon you.” It’s like my grandfather telling me – “Today, I want you to get in the boat with me.”

That’s what it means to be a disciple. To get in the boat with him. To listen to his voice and follow him.

When we do, the circumstances of our lives may not look much different. The ride might be just as rough and we might want to buckle up!

But yoked to Jesus, following him and listening for his gentle voice of instruction, we can be confident that he will lead and guide us in the way that leads to life – even ‘life to the full.’ (John 10:10).