The Weight We Were Never Meant to Carry

"For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" — Matthew 16:26 (NASB)

During my work as a humanitarian aid worker in northern Afghanistan in 2000 and 2001, I learned many important lessons, one of which I want to share in this post.

It was the spring of 2001, and I was preparing to depart on a survey trip to a remote region of Badakhshan Province, Afghanistan. A journey such as this was not uncommon, but the route we planned to take had never been traveled by anyone we knew. In fact, the senior United Nations official in the region had asked us to collect information about the living conditions in the area and brief him upon our return.

Packing did not take long because we were not bringing horses and could carry only what would fit on our backs. Due to the many unknowns surrounding the journey, my supervisors instructed me to exchange $100 USD into local Afghan currency before we departed. Unfortunately, in exchange for a single one-hundred-dollar bill, the seraf (money changer) handed me an enormous stack of Afghan currency nearly the size of two bricks stacked together. The massive bundle weighed more than eleven pounds. Suddenly, it made perfect sense to me why British currency was once measured in "pounds."

On the first day of our journey, the money on my back was barely noticeable. My body was rested, my legs were strong, and my feet were in good condition. However, the trail wound its way through the Hindu Kush Mountains, an ancient passage traveled for centuries by traders and invading armies alike. Towering snow-capped peaks rose as high as 25,000 feet, and the region had claimed the lives of countless travelers throughout its long and storied history.

Needless to say, the second day was far more difficult than the first. By mid-afternoon, I was sore, exhausted, and my feet had begun to blister. The third day proved even harder, and for the first time, I found myself thinking about the heavy stack of money riding on my back. I jokingly told my Afghan traveling companion that I hoped we would soon find a small shop where we could buy something. At that point, I did not care whether it was food, tea, a new donkey, or even a bus ticket back to our office—I would have gladly bought almost anything if it meant lightening my load.

By the fifth day, however, we still had not passed a single shop, and the people in that remote region seemed to have neither a need nor a desire for my money.

In Afghan culture, honor is often measured by the hospitality shown to one's guests. That is a beautiful custom—until you find yourself high in the mountains carrying eleven pounds of money that no one will accept as either a gift or payment for food and supplies. My entire body was paying the price for the burden I carried. Those eleven pounds of currency might as well have been eleven pounds of rocks, for neither offered me any help as I climbed mountain after mountain and descended into valley after valley.

Near the end of our first week, my ingenuity finally inspired me to do something about the expensive burden strapped to my back. Knowing no one would willingly accept my money, I began excusing myself from our hosts to visit the tashnaub (outhouse). Once alone, I would quietly stuff handfuls of currency into the cracks of the walls and ceilings or hide bundles beneath nearby rocks, hoping they would be discovered only after we had departed. I convinced myself that what I was doing would one day become an unexpected blessing to our hosts.

In one village, I even hid money beneath a cotton mattress, only to have the homeowner chase us down the trail and eagerly return it to me, thankful that he had caught us before we traveled too far away.

How desperately I wanted God to remove my burden... and therein lies the irony.

The journey would have been difficult even with nothing on my back. Yet, for many days, I carried something others had convinced me I needed. As a result, my body wore down, and I failed to fully appreciate the breathtaking sunsets, flawless sunrises, and magnificent vistas unfolding around me. Too much time passed before I finally realized I needed to lighten my load and rid myself of the financial burden I had been carrying. Although it was difficult to part with it, once I did, my steps became lighter, the miles seemed shorter, and each day became more enjoyable than the last.

The lesson is this: the thing we often depend upon for comfort, security, or contentment may actually be the very thing robbing us of those blessings. The longer we carry it, the heavier it becomes, and the greater the price we pay.

Perhaps today is the day to honestly ask yourself what burden you have been carrying. Is it wealth, success, pride, fear, bitterness, the approval of others, or something else you have come to rely upon more than Christ?

Whatever it may be, do not waste another day carrying a burden you were never meant to bear. Lay it down before the Lord, trust Him completely, and discover the freedom that comes from walking with Him alone.

Written by JCT