At that time, Jesus answering said, I praise thee, Father, Lord of the heaven and of the earth, that thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them to babes.
Jesus has just warned the towns that saw most of His miracles and would not repent. Then He turns from the crowd and thanks His Father. The strange thing is what He thanks Him for: something God has hidden. Why should the loss of the clever be the joy of the Son?
The setting explains the tone. Everything around Him had collapsed.
What is the history of that chapter? Simply this — everything in His outward circumstances was a complete desolation to His heart. John doubted Him, the cities that saw His mightiest works had not repented… "In that hour," when there was not a single star to light up the darkness of things around, what did His heart find its comfort in? Was it not this? In being perfectly subject to His Father's will.
The name He uses reaches far wider than the throne men have just refused Him.
Man's rejection of Him grows before our eyes, and Jesus says, "I thank you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth." His hopes are not limited to the earth now. He looks to God as Lord of heaven and earth — sovereign over all things… They may refuse Him the throne of Israel; the Jews may reject Him, the leaders may despise Him… Refuse Him in His earthly dignity, and He only shines in His heavenly one; despise Him as a man, and He is clearly God.
The two words are not compliments about education alone. (Older translations read "the wise and prudent"; the ESV has "the wise and understanding.")
"Wise and prudent," that is, self-sufficient ones. "Wise," as the New Testament uses it, means people with education and training… "prudent" means shrewd. In both cases it implies self-sufficiency. "Babes" — not the reasoners but receivers… God bans all human pride, and no one can boast in His presence. Man gets the blessing, God the glory, in doing things this way.
God is not shutting out clever people. He is shutting out an attitude.
It was right to hide from the world's wise and prudent what to babes He could reveal. This is not hiding anything from men as men, but from men that cling to their own wisdom — who are wise enough to judge God, but not to judge themselves. In that condition it is impossible that He and they should come together. The first necessity is that God should have His place — that He should be God, and that man should be the small creature he is, a babe indeed before Him. Real wisdom finds it no hardship to take that place before the Lord of heaven and earth, and here is the condition of all true blessing.
If God must reveal these things, study cannot reach them. Two things must happen together.
These words from the lips of the Lord Himself declare that no one can gain the knowledge of God by hard, tiring study, however sincere the effort may be. It comes only by revelation… And they show that revelation has two sides. God is active; we receive. God reveals Himself, and the babes receive the revelation; the light shines and there are eyes that admit it. We depend on God for the babe-nature, the opened eyes, the believing heart and the listening ears, just as much as we depend on Him for the revelation they take in.
The same thing happens today, and it explains a puzzle believers still meet.
We often wonder why the wise and prudent of our day do not see certain truths… Others, poor and weak though they are, hold these revelations in full and keep receiving more out of His fullness. The reason is soon found. Only one kind of person can receive these things: the one who owns his nothingness, who takes his place in weakness at His feet, and is like a babe. The Lord never entrusts His secrets and His counsels to the wise and prudent… Would we know more of Him, of His Word, His purposes and His thoughts? There is only one way — be a babe.
What steadied the Lord steadies anyone whose service is thrown back at them.
If we see our testimony rejected, our wishes disappointed, our motives misunderstood; if trial comes from where we least expected it — from Christians, perhaps from our own family, from those we have sought to serve — then is the time to bow to the righteous sovereignty of God. Then is the time to say, "I thank you, O Father: for so it seems good in your sight."
- Rejected — the thanks come at the chapter's darkest point. The Son meets total desolation with subjection to His Father's will.
- Sovereign — He calls His Father "Lord of heaven and earth." Men refuse Him an earthly throne, and His heavenly glory shines out.
- Hidden — the loss falls on self-sufficiency, not on brains. Some are wise enough to judge God, but not themselves.
- Revealed — babes are receivers, not reasoners. God gives both the revelation and the eyes that take it in.
- Repeatable — the way to know more has not changed. Own your nothingness, be a babe, and bow to what seems good in your Father's sight when trial comes.
Yea, Father, for thus has it been well-pleasing in thy sight.
These words come at the lowest point of the Lord's public ministry. John the Baptist was doubting. Whole cities had seen His miracles and stayed unmoved. Instead of protesting, He agrees with His Father. Can anyone else learn to say the same?
(Older translations render the second half as "for so it seemed good in thy sight," and the writers quoted below use that wording.)
One writer asks what the Lord's heart rested on when nothing around Him gave comfort.
This is the most wonderful statement recorded in the whole word of God: "Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight." What amazing words from His lips, the Eternal Son of the Father! Everything in His outward circumstances was a complete desolation to His heart. John doubted Him, the cities where His mightiest works were done had not repented... "In that hour," there was not a single star to light up the darkness of things around. What did His heart find its comfort in? In being perfectly subject to His Father's will.
The rejection hurt Him. He traced it to His Father's hand.
The knowledge of God makes everything necessarily good to us, because it comes from Him. It may be very contrary to our nature. To Jesus, men's rejection of His message was of course painful. It threw Him on the sovereignty of God His Father, whom He knew. His Father had hidden these things from the wise men of the world and revealed them to the despised and weak.
The hiding has a reason, and it is not about intelligence.
It was right to hide from the world's wise and prudent what He could reveal to babes. This is not hiding anything from men as men, but from men who cling to their own wisdom. They are wise enough to judge God, but not to judge themselves. In that condition it is impossible that He and they should come together. God must first have His place — He must be God. So man must be the small creature that he is, a babe indeed before Him. If a man has true wisdom, he will find it no hardship to take that place before the Lord of heaven and earth. Here is the condition of all true blessing.
If you are drawn to Christ at all, that draw did not begin with you.
If we have been attracted to Jesus... we have been the subjects of the Father's work. He has revealed these things to us. He has given us eyes that can look into the heart of our Prince. Our Lord was satisfied to have it so, since this was His Father's doing. There was no resentment in His heart. He accepted the situation and spoke those memorable words of perfect submission.
A few verses later the Lord offers His yoke. One writer identifies that yoke with this very sentence.
And yet it is not violent or hard work. In one sense it is easy, as the Lord says. Submit! Say, "Even so, Father; for so it seemed good in thy sight." That is His yoke. This is how we learn of Him, who credited everything to the Father, not to the circumstances... "It seemed good in thy sight." That was enough. It was perfect submission, and the Father shone out in it. Its value depends on the perfect knowledge of sonship.
The occasions for saying it are ordinary ones, and often close to home.
Sometimes we see our testimony rejected, our wishes disappointed, our motives misunderstood. Trouble comes from where we least expected it — from Christians, perhaps from our own family, from those we have tried to serve. Then is the time to bow to the righteous sovereignty of God... God has revealed Jesus to us. He made us alive when we were dead in trespasses and sins. He stretched out the arm of His power on our behalf. If our souls knew a little more of that amazing mercy shown to any of us, we would not be wasting our time, as too often happens, in pointless grumbling and regrets.
Humility shows itself in what it does not do.
An absence of reasoning marks the humble soul. He is content to leave the management and outcome of everything in the Lord's hands... And this — "it seemed good in Thy sight" — will be the anchor of our souls if we are marked by the same features as the Psalmist.
- Cause — The Lord spoke these words at the moment of total rejection. He traced that rejection to His Father's hand and found His comfort there, not in His circumstances.
- Gift — God hides these things from those who cling to their own wisdom, not from ordinary people. He must have His place, and man must take the place of a babe.
- Reach — If Christ attracts you at all, the Father did that work. He revealed these things and gave the eyes that see.
- Result — This sentence is the yoke Christ offers. Say it back to the Father in disappointment, misunderstanding and family trouble. That is submission in practice.
- Rest — The mark of it is the absence of reasoning and complaint. "It seemed good in Thy sight" was enough for Him, and it becomes the anchor of the soul.
All things have been delivered to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son but the Father, nor does any one know the Father, but the Son, and he to whom the Son may be pleased to reveal [him].
Jesus speaks these words at the low point of His ministry, after the towns that saw His miracles refused Him. Stripped of the honours Israel owed Him, He does not defend His rights. He speaks instead of all the Father has handed to Him, of who alone knows Him, and of the Father He alone can make known.
Israel refuses Him a throne, and the loss of that glory uncovers a greater one:
"All things have been handed over to me by my Father." The throne of Israel may be refused Him. The Jews may reject Him and the leaders may despise Him. All this may happen — but what is the result? Not merely what was promised to David or Solomon, but "All things have been handed over to me by my Father." Where was anything like this revealed before — in the Psalms, in the Prophets? Man refuses the rejected Messiah, and He submits to it. They strip Him of His robes of Messianic glory, and what comes out? He is the Son of the Father, the Son of God from all eternity. Refuse Him in His earthly dignity, and He only shines in His heavenly one; despise Him as a man, and He is manifestly God.
What He receives reaches past the kingdom promised to Israel's Messiah:
In the hour of Jewish rejection the Lord takes up the glorious purposes of universal rule as the Son and the Heir of all things, far beyond the Messianic Kingdom.
The statement that only the Father knows Him is not a gap in our information but a proof of who He is:
No one knows Him but the Father. Who among the proud could fathom what He was? From all eternity He was one with the Father, and then He became man. In the deep mystery of His being He was beyond all knowledge except the Father's own. He emptied Himself to become man, and no one could know Him. That very impossibility kept His divinity certain and real, though this self-emptying might have hidden it from the eyes of unbelief. The incomprehensibility of a being in a finite form revealed the infinite that was there.
Two different Greek words lie behind "know" here. The difference decides how much this verse shuts us out, and how much it lets us in.
Not to know Him at all (ginoskein) was to be without eternal life; but to know Him thoroughly (epiginoskein) was only possible to God the Father. We cannot fathom, but we most surely believe. It is our deep joy that the Father only fully knows the Son, though we know Him enough to have eternal life in Him.
That limit does not shut believers out of knowing Christ:
Does this mean that we do not know Christ as our Saviour and Lord? Certainly not. But we do well to accept without reserve the limitation that we shall never know the mystery of His person. To neglect this is to court disaster. If we remember it, we will take care not to go a hair's breadth beyond what Scripture says on this profound and holy subject.
What the Son cannot pass on about Himself, He can and does pass on about the Father:
There is a certain knowledge of the Son which cannot be shared with anyone; that belongs to the Father only. But there is a knowledge of the Father that the Son was able to share with those whom He chose. Until the Son came, no one knew the Father. The Son brought with Him a divine revelation, something hidden from past generations.
Only the Son can reveal the Father, and that ability tells us who He is:
The Godhead glory of the Father, beyond all words, could only be revealed by the Son. But that He could reveal it proved His own personal Deity, for who but God could reveal God?
The revealing also rests on His own will:
The Son made this revelation according to His own good pleasure. What a mark of divine perfection! He came for this purpose, and He did it according to His own wisdom.
The invitation that follows shows who this revealing is for:
He is revealing the Father now. He has not merely come to fulfil the promises of God. He is revealing the Father, and bringing souls into a deeper knowledge of God than was possible before. "Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." It is perfect grace: no restriction; no setting the Jew in the foremost seat of honour.
- Given, not grasped — Israel rejected Him as King. His Father handed Him more than any prophet had promised: all things.
- Given depths — His person runs deeper than any creature can reach. What cannot be fathomed in a man is the mark of the infinite.
- Given enough — no one knows Him fully but the Father, yet what we do know of Him is enough for eternal life. Speculation past Scripture is where the danger lies.
- Given a Father — the Son came to make known the Father, a name no generation knew until He brought it.
- Given away freely — He reveals the Father to whom He chooses. His next words show whom: everyone weary enough to come.
Come to me, all ye who labour and are burdened, and *I* will give you rest.
When Jesus spoke these words, He had just been turned down. The cities where He had done His greatest works refused Him, and so did the nation. Out of that rejection comes the widest invitation He ever gave. It raises two questions: who is He calling, and what rest is He promising?
Jesus did not speak these words to a welcoming crowd. He spoke them after the nation had turned Him down, and one writer reads this chapter as a turning point.
In Matthew, chapter 11 marks the transition from the presentation of Christ to the nation, with the Gentiles being excluded... The Saviour rebukes the cities where He had worked, because of their terrible unbelief. He bows to the will of God for this time. That submission opens His heart to the secret of grace, and grace now appears in all its simplicity and power. Everything turns on knowing the Father. Only the Son can reveal Him. Yet He invites "all who labor and are heavy laden" to come to Him, and He will give them rest. His Person, and not Israel, is the centre of grace and of the work of grace.
Rejection did not narrow the offer; it widened it.
Here the people among whom He had chosen to live reject Him as King. Even so, there is blessing for a circle far wider than Israel: "Come to me, all who labor." He has rest, blessed be His name, for any who will simply come to Him. "I will give you rest." It is all of grace.
His first hearers were worn out by rules — and by the teachers who piled them higher.
He spoke among a people who for many generations had been under the law of Moses. They knew it well... And the scribes and Pharisees — the religious teachers of the day — tied the law like a heavy load on people's shoulders. They would not lift it with one finger themselves.
One writer names two loads, and one Person lifts both.
Many are weighed down by guilt they feel. Others groan under religious ceremonies they hope will one day earn them salvation. To all these the Saviour offers rest as a gracious gift. His atoning sacrifice has met every claim of God's holiness about sin. So no one need carry the burden of guilt for a single hour. And His work is finished, so no one need labour to save themselves.
Everything in the verse hangs on one word, and it is not a word about doing.
There are no conditions proposed, no demands made, no barriers erected. The simple, touching, heart-softening, winning word is "Come." It is not "Go," "Do," "Give," "Bring," "Feel," or "Realize." No, it is, "Come." And how are we to come? Just as we are. To whom are we to come? To Jesus. When are we to come? Now.
The call is not to a system, a standard, or even to a church. The emphasis falls on the words "to me."
COME TO ME. Search no longer in the depths of your own heart for the goodness that satisfies. Come to Me. Stop looking to men for help. Come to Me... Do not turn to churches or religious ceremonies. Come to Me. Do not depend on famous evangelists, pastors and teachers. Come to Me. Do not rest in stirring meetings, Bible conferences, sound Christian books, or being in the right church. Come to Me — TO ME — ME.
Verse 28 promises rest as a gift; the verse that follows speaks of rest that is found. One writer keeps the two apart.
There is a clear difference between Jesus giving rest and our finding rest, and it matters a great deal. He does not tell me to do anything so that He may give me rest. It is simply "come to me." But to find rest, He says, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart." Practical obedience is needed.
Another writer adds a third rest, still ahead.
A sinner gets rest of conscience in the work of Christ. A believer gets rest of heart in the Person of Christ. Then there is God's own rest — GLORY. Sin and what it produces can never come there. He is going to take us who believe into it, spirit, soul, and body, for eternity.
- Rejected — His own cities refused Him. His bowing to that opened the door of grace this wide.
- Weary — His first hearers were worn out by law-keeping and by the loads their religious teachers piled on them.
- Come — He sets no conditions. Not "do" or "bring," but "come" — just as you are, now.
- To Me — The destination is a Person, not a ceremony, a teacher, a meeting, or a correct position.
- Rest — He gives rest of conscience the moment you come. You find rest of heart under His yoke. God's own rest waits in glory.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am meek and lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest to your souls;
In verse 28 Jesus promised rest to anyone who comes to Him; here He asks for something more — a yoke taken on, not a burden put down. What rest is this, and why does it come by submission?
Verse 28 offers rest as a gift; verse 29 offers rest as a discovery. Losing sight of the second is why some believers stop being happy.
Notice the difference. In verse 28 it is, "Come to Me… and I will give you rest." That is pure grace to the soul in need, with nothing but its sins to bring. But in saying, "Take My yoke upon you… and you will find rest for your souls," He speaks of subjection to Him, and the effect is finding rest for our souls. When the sinner goes to Jesus in his misery, the Saviour gives him rest — "without money and without price." But that soul may not go on in the ways of Christ. Then he becomes miserable, and loses the comfort he had at first. Why? He has not taken Christ's yoke upon him.
The two belong together, and mishandling that relationship damages something either way.
These things are distinct, so we should never confuse them. They are closely connected, so we should never separate them. Confusing them dims the brightness of divine grace. Separating them trespasses on the claims of divine holiness.
A yoke in Scripture is not a workload but a claim on the will. The wording is careful: it is My yoke, and a yoke joins two.
In Scripture the "yoke" is always a picture of submission to the will of another.
The yoke is not the law, but His own yoke, His loving restraint; and two belong in the yoke — we are yoked together with Him. And having Him, the One meek and lowly in heart, always before the soul, rest for the soul is the blessed fruit.
He does not hand over a harness He has never felt. Two things give rest here — grace that reveals the Father, and a will that bows.
He urges His hearers to take the yoke — the yoke He had taken Himself. He urges them to learn from Him in this display of submission and poverty of spirit, and they will find rest for their souls. Perfect grace, the revelation of the Father in the Son, gives rest to hearts weary of this world of sin. Perfect submission of the will gives practical peace to the heart while one crosses that world.
"Take" comes before "learn," and the sequence cannot be swapped.
Sometimes we hear Christians, old and young, complain about how slow they are to learn. Why have I learned so little of Christ? These words of our Lord may show us the reason. He said, "Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me," and we cannot reverse the order of the two halves of the sentence. He did not say — learn from Me, and later you may take My yoke upon you. Taking His yoke is what comes first, before learning of Him.
The reason He gives for learning from Him is not His power but His character. Where the ESV says "gentle," older translations say "meek," and the writers below use that older word.
It is interesting that in the verse just quoted our Lord says of Himself, "I am meek and lowly in heart." Meekness and lowliness were not a thin coat of paint over something coarse and ugly underneath. As a blessed perfect Man down here, He was meek and lowly in Himself, in His nature. So His ways took their character from what He was.
Set that against its opposite, and the appeal of the verse sharpens.
The exact opposite of the meek man is the self-assertive man, and the opposite of the one who is lowly in heart is the high-minded one. By nature we were all high-minded and self-assertive.
This rest is not freedom from trouble. It is steadiness inside trouble.
This goes beyond rest of conscience. It is rest of heart in the circumstances of daily life. Many who enjoy the one blessing know little of the other. Yet the condition is very simple. It is giving up self-will. It is gladly accepting the authority of the One whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light. Nothing is more unsettling than self-will that gets thwarted.
- Come — Christ gives the first rest outright to anyone who comes burdened, with nothing to bring but sins. It costs nothing and settles the conscience.
- Take — you do not receive the second rest; you find it, and you find it under a yoke. That yoke is not law but His own loving restraint, joining you to Him.
- Learn — the order is fixed: submission first, understanding after. Slow learners of Christ should ask whether they ever took the yoke.
- Look — the lesson is a Person, not a syllabus. He is meek and lowly by nature, not by performance, and He wore this yoke before offering it.
- Find — rest of heart follows the surrender of self-will. Nothing unsettles a life more than a will that keeps getting crossed.
for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Jesus offers the crowds a yoke instead of the crushing load their teachers had laid on them. The word "for" gives the reason behind His invitation. Why is coming to Him worth it, and why does His yoke bring relief instead of strain?
A yoke means submission, so the first question is submission to what. One writer answers that, and adds that a yoke holds two:
The yoke is not the law, but His own yoke, His loving restraint; and two belong in the yoke; we are yoked together with Him. And having Him, the One meek and lowly in heart, ever before the soul, rest for the soul is the blessed fruit.
His hearers knew what a king's yoke meant. One writer sets His promise beside the harsh words of another king in David's line:
He spoke in the opposite way to another of David's sons, who said: "My father made your yoke heavy, and I will add to your yoke." Now they heard Christ saying, "My yoke is easy, and My burden is light!" What did this mean? Why could He call this yoke easy? The answer lies in Himself.
The wording sounds like a contradiction. One writer holds both sides of it together:
Doesn't it seem a contradiction — the yoke easy, the burden light? But the Lord is always right. If we walk along with Him we find the yoke is "gracious," and the burden "light."
The word for "burden" matters too. Greek has two words for it, and Jesus does not use the crushing one:
Greek uses two words for 'burden.' The first, baros (from barys, 'heavy'), always means a load that is heavy and crushing. The idea in the second, phortion (from phero, 'to carry'), is simply that it has to be carried, like freight or baggage; it need not be heavy. It may be heavy, as was the burden the Jewish leaders laid on others, Matt. 23:4; Luke 11:46; or it may be light, as the Lord says, "My burden is light."
He is not handing out something He has never tried. He speaks from His own experience of obedience under pressure:
Jesus had borne the "burden," Jesus had borne the "yoke" Himself, and therefore He could say, "Learn of Me." I am not speaking about the burden of our sins. The Lord Jesus came also to "learn obedience by the things that He suffered." Jesus was the One who had found out all the bitterness of rejection and scorn, and yet could say, "Even so, Father."
The passage promises rest twice, and the two are not the same. One rest He gives to anyone who comes. The other you find as you follow:
Rest of conscience He gives through the forgiveness of our sins, when first we believe in Him. Rest of heart we find in obedience and subjection to His will… This explains why so many run into trouble of soul soon after the joys of conversion. It explains why they are uneasy and restless when difficulties come, even though they may know the forgiveness of sins. They have lost sight of being subject to Christ in the details of life, both among people and in the church, and of learning from Him.
When a believer's experience contradicts the verse, one writer finds the trouble in a divided will, not in the yoke:
If your will is opposed to the Lord's will, it is hard for you and it is not easy for Him. But that clash of wills will stop if you give yourself wholly to Him… Look into the Lord's heart, and you will give yourself to Him with joy, for His love for you is perfect. You will find that His yoke is padded with love. It will not chafe or hurt you.
Another writer traces it to where the eye rests:
What makes it easy? Nothing but Christ. If the eye is on Him, His yoke is easy. If the eye is off Christ — on myself or on anything else — His burden becomes unbearable, and in unbelief a person breaks down completely.
One writer rests this promise on the new nature God has already given the believer:
He may well direct you to many things that go against the desires of the flesh and the ways of the world. But He will never direct you against that new nature which is yours, created new in Christ Jesus… More and more, as you walk in His ways, you will find how happy and delightful they are.
- The yoke offered — not the law, but His own: two in one yoke, walking with Him.
- The yoke worn first — He carried it Himself through rejection, and still said, "Even so, Father."
- The yoke described — "easy" means gracious. The word for burden is one that can be light, not a crushing load.
- The yoke's double rest — He gives rest of conscience when you come; you find rest of heart as you obey.
- The yoke that chafes — it rubs only where your will pulls against His. Keep the eye on Christ, and the same yoke is padded with love.