Letting Go of What We Carry: Biblical Sermon on Rest & Release

The Weight We’re Not Meant to Bear

Good morning, church. I want you to try something with me right now. Close your eyes for just a second—humor me here—and think about what you’re carrying this morning. Not your coffee cup or your Bible. I mean what you’re carrying in your heart, in your mind, in that place where worry lives.

Maybe it’s anxiety about a medical test result you’re waiting for. Maybe it’s guilt about something you said to your kid last week that you can’t take back. Maybe it’s bitterness toward someone who hurt you years ago, and you still rehearse what you should have said to them. Maybe it’s the crushing pressure to keep everyone happy, to perform perfectly, to prove you’re enough.

Some of you walked in here this morning with shoulders so tight they hurt. You’re exhausted, but you can’t sleep because your mind won’t stop spinning. You’re doing everything right—going to church, reading your Bible, serving on committees—but you feel like you’re barely keeping your head above water.

Here’s what I want you to hear today: You’re carrying things God never asked you to carry.

Today we’re going to learn what it means to let go of what we carry—the burdens, the worries, the control, the performance, the guilt—and exchange them for something Jesus calls “rest for your souls.”

Our controlling metaphor today is a backpack. Imagine you’re hiking, but instead of packing smart, you’ve thrown in everything you own. Rocks you picked up along the way. Souvenirs from past trips. Things other people handed you. The backpack is so heavy you can barely stand, let alone move forward. And Jesus is standing there saying, “Hey, why don’t you let Me carry that for you?”

Some of you are carrying anxiety about your kids’ futures—will they stay in the faith, will they make good choices, will they be okay? Some of you are carrying guilt about your past—things you did before you were saved, or even things you did last week. Some of you are carrying the weight of trying to control everything—your health, your marriage, your career—because you’re terrified of what might happen if you let go. Some of you are carrying unforgiveness—bitterness toward someone who wronged you, and it’s eating you alive. Some of you are carrying performance—trying to earn God’s approval through how much you serve, how much you give, how “good” you are.

And you’re exhausted. Because none of that weight was yours to carry.

Defining Our Terms: What Does “Letting Go” Actually Mean?

Let’s get clear on what we’re talking about. If you Google “letting go,” you’ll find a bunch of self-help advice about releasing negative emotions, moving on from the past, and living your best life. It’s all very… therapeutic. And some of it’s helpful.

But biblical letting go is different. It’s not just releasing negativity. It’s not just moving on. It’s actively, intentionally, prayerfully transferring the weight you’re carrying to Someone who can actually bear it.

Here are three options for how people handle the burdens they carry:

Option 1: Ignore them and push through. This is the “I’m fine” approach. You just keep going, keep performing, keep pretending the weight isn’t there. Eventually, you break. This doesn’t work—it just delays the inevitable collapse.

Option 2: Try to manage them yourself. This is the “I’ve got this” approach. You read self-help books, create elaborate systems, work harder at controlling outcomes. You might feel better temporarily, but the weight never actually goes away. You’re just rearranging it.

Option 3: Transfer them to God through prayer, trust, and surrender. This is the biblical approach. You acknowledge the weight, you bring it to Jesus, you place it in His hands, and you trust Him to carry what you cannot. This is the only option that actually works.

Our working definition: Letting go means actively releasing to God the burdens He never intended us to carry, trusting that He cares for us and is sovereign over the outcomes we cannot control.

Recognizing What Martha Carried (Luke 10:38-42)

Let’s turn to one of the most famous stories in the Bible about carrying unnecessary burdens—the story of Mary and Martha.

“Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.’ But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.'” (Luke 10:38-42, ESV)

Let me set the scene. Jesus and His disciples show up at Martha’s house. Now, in that culture, hospitality wasn’t just nice—it was essential. Martha is trying to be a good host. She’s probably cooking a meal for 13+ people. The house needs to be ready. There are expectations, both cultural and self-imposed.

Martha is carrying the weight of performance, of meeting expectations, of doing everything right.

Notice what Jesus doesn’t say. He doesn’t say, “Martha, serving is bad.” He doesn’t say, “You shouldn’t have welcomed Me.” What He says is: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things.”

That word “anxious” in Greek is merimnas—it means to be divided, pulled apart, fragmented. And “troubled” is thorubazē—to be in turmoil, to be disturbed. Martha isn’t just busy. She’s anxiously busy. She’s distracted. She’s fragmented.

And meanwhile, Mary is sitting at Jesus’s feet. In that culture, sitting at a rabbi’s feet was the posture of a disciple—and women typically didn’t do that. Mary’s choice is radical. She’s chosen worship over work. Presence over performance. The “good portion” over the many things.

Here’s the key: Martha’s problem wasn’t serving. It was anxious serving that crowded out worship.

Like Martha, many of us carry the weight of doing everything right. You’re running yourself ragged trying to be a good parent, a good spouse, a good employee, a good church member. You’re serving on committees, volunteering for everything, saying yes when you should say no. And deep down, you’re exhausted. You’re resentful. You’re missing the “one thing necessary”—just being with Jesus.

I’ll be honest with you—I’m way more Martha than Mary most weeks. I get so caught up in preparing sermons, counseling people, planning programs, that I forget to just sit at Jesus’s feet. Last week, I realized I’d spent more time organizing my Bible study notes than actually praying. Talk about missing the point.

Jesus says in Matthew 6:25-34, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life… But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” And in Psalm 46:10, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

This doesn’t mean you stop serving. It means your service flows from rest, not instead of rest. It means you stop trying to earn God’s approval through performance and start receiving His love through presence.

Amen

Accepting Jesus’s Invitation to Rest (Matthew 11:28-30)

Now let’s look at what might be the most tender invitation Jesus ever gave. Turn with me to Matthew 11:28-30.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30, ESV)

This is one of my favorite passages in all of Scripture. Notice the three-step pattern Jesus gives:

Step 1: Come. Just approach Him. Bring your weariness. Bring your heavy load. Don’t clean yourself up first. Don’t get it together. Just come.

Step 2: Take. Exchange yokes. A yoke was a wooden beam placed on oxen to pull plows or carts. Jesus is saying, “You’re wearing the wrong yoke. You’re pulling the wrong weight. Take Mine instead.”

Step 3: Learn. This is ongoing. It’s not a one-time transaction. It’s a daily, moment-by-moment practice of following Jesus’s example of trust.

And what does Jesus promise? Rest for your souls. Not just physical rest (though that’s good too), but deep, soul-level rest. The kind of rest where you can sleep at night. Where you stop constantly second-guessing yourself. Where peace becomes your baseline instead of anxiety.

But here’s what gets me—Jesus says His yoke is “easy” and His burden is “light.” The Greek word for “easy” is chrēstos, which means well-fitting, good, kind. And “light” is elaphros, meaning not heavy, not burdensome.

Jesus isn’t saying you won’t have any responsibilities. He’s saying His yoke fits you. It doesn’t chafe. It doesn’t crush you.

Like many of us, I struggle with this because I’m a chronic over-functioner. If there’s a problem, I think I need to fix it. If someone’s struggling, I think it’s my job to rescue them. If things aren’t perfect, I think I’ve failed. And I wear myself out carrying burdens God never asked me to carry.

A few months ago, I was lying awake at 2 AM worrying about a situation I literally could not control. And it was like God whispered to me, “Why are you carrying this? I never gave it to you.” And I realized—I’d picked it up myself. I’d made it my responsibility when it was actually His.

God tells us in 1 Peter 5:7:

“Cast all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”

The word “cast” is strong—it means to throw, to hurl. Not to gently set down. To actively, forcefully release.

And in Philippians 4:6-7, Paul writes, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

This doesn’t mean you become irresponsible. It doesn’t mean you stop caring. It means you do your part and trust God with His part. You steward what He’s given you and release what He hasn’t.

Amen

Practicing the Release (1 Peter 5:7 & Philippians 4:6-7)

Okay, so we recognize what we’re carrying, and we hear Jesus’s invitation. But how do we actually let go? Because that’s the hard part, right?

Let’s turn to 1 Peter 5:7 again: “Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (ESV)

Notice two things here. First, “all” your anxieties. Not just the spiritual ones. Not just the ones that seem appropriate to bother God with. All of them. The big ones and the little ones. The rational fears and the irrational ones. The guilt about yesterday and the worry about tomorrow.

Second, “because he cares for you.” The reason you can cast your anxieties on God isn’t because you’re supposed to be strong or spiritual. It’s because He actually cares. This isn’t burdening Him. This is what He wants. He’s inviting you to release it.

Here’s what this looks like practically. You identify what you’re carrying. Maybe it’s anxiety about your health, or guilt about a past mistake, or bitterness toward someone who hurt you. You name it specifically. And then you pray—out loud if possible—a prayer of release.

“God, I’m carrying anxiety about [specific thing]. I’m worried that [specific outcome]. I’m trying to control [specific situation]. But You never asked me to carry this. So right now, I’m releasing it to You. I’m placing it in Your hands. I trust that You care about this, that You’re sovereign over it, and that You’ll handle it better than I ever could.”

And here’s the part that’s both beautiful and frustrating: you might have to do this multiple times. Because we’re really good at picking burdens back up. You release your worry to God on Sunday morning, and by Monday afternoon, you’re carrying it again.

That’s okay. That’s normal. That’s why Paul says in Philippians 4:6, “Do not be anxious about anything.” Not “be anxious once and then never again.” It’s a present-tense command—it means continually, repeatedly, don’t be anxious. Keep releasing it. Keep bringing it to God.

I have a friend who literally opens her hands every time she prays about something she’s anxious about. She says, “I can’t hold onto God and hold onto my worry at the same time. Open hands.” I’ve started doing that too. It’s a physical reminder that I’m releasing, not clutching.

Psalm 55:22 says, “Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you.” And Proverbs 3:5-6 tells us, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”

This doesn’t mean life becomes easy. It doesn’t mean you won’t face hard things. But it means you don’t face them alone, and you don’t carry them alone.

Here’s the tension we have to hold: God calls us to both responsibility and rest. You don’t become passive. You still do your part. But you trust Him with outcomes you cannot control. You parent well and trust God with your kids’ futures. You work hard and trust God with your career. You care for your health and trust God with the results.

Amen

What Does This Look Like in Real Life?

Okay, let’s get really practical. What do you do this week?

This week, you can:

1. Do a burden inventory. Sit down with a piece of paper and write down what you’re carrying. Use these categories: What am I anxious about? What guilt or shame am I carrying? Who haven’t I forgiven? What am I trying to control? Where am I performing to earn approval? Just name it. Get it out of your head and onto paper.
2. Pray a 1 Peter 5:7 release prayer. For each thing on your list, pray specifically: “God, I’m releasing [this burden] to You. I trust You with [this outcome]. I give up my right to control [this situation].” Consider physically opening your hands as you pray.
3. Choose the “better portion” like Mary. This week, practice being with Jesus before doing for Jesus. Spend 10 minutes just sitting quietly with Scripture—not to prepare a lesson or check off a box, but just to be with Him. Choose presence over performance at least once this week.
4. Set up accountability. Tell someone you trust what you’re carrying and ask them to check in with you. “Hey, last week I released my worry about [X] to God. I picked it back up on Tuesday. Can you remind me to keep releasing it?”
5. Practice Sabbath rest. Pick one day (or even just a few hours) this week where you intentionally stop striving, stop performing, stop trying to control. Rest. Trust. Remember that God’s got this even when you’re not working.

This week, avoid:

• Don’t spiritualize irresponsibility. Letting go doesn’t mean you stop caring for your responsibilities. It means you trust God while you do your part.
• Don’t pick up other people’s burdens. You’re not responsible for everyone else’s feelings, choices, or outcomes. Help when you can, but don’t carry what’s theirs to carry.
• Don’t expect instant transformation. This is a practice. You’re learning to release. Some days will be better than others. That’s okay. Keep coming back to Jesus.

Living Light and Free

Church, here’s what I want you to remember from today.

Like Martha, we often carry the burden of anxious service that crowds out worship. We’re so busy doing everything right that we miss the one thing necessary—being with Jesus. Choose Mary’s better portion. Prioritize presence.

Like those who heard Jesus’s invitation, we can exchange our heavy yoke for His light one. We don’t have to carry what God never asked us to carry. Come to Him. Take His yoke. Learn His gentle way. Find rest for your souls.

Like Peter’s readers, we can actively cast our anxieties on God because He cares for us. We release the burdens—again and again, as many times as needed—and we trust Him with outcomes only He can control.

Imagine walking out of here today without the weight you walked in with. Imagine sleeping tonight without your mind spinning. Imagine serving from rest instead of exhaustion. Imagine trusting God so deeply that anxiety doesn’t have a grip on you anymore.

That’s what Jesus offers. Not a life without responsibility, but a life without unnecessary burden. Not a life without hard things, but a life where you don’t carry hard things alone.

So this week, take inventory. Release what you’re carrying. Choose the better portion. Practice rest. And watch what God does when you finally let Him carry what was always His to carry.

You were never meant to bear this weight alone. Let it go. Jesus has got you.

Amen.