In his massive work on the Korean War, “The Coldest Winter,” David Halberstam tells of Bruce Ritter, a radioman whose regiment was decimated by the Chinese Communists. When the little group he hooked up with arrived at the banks of the Peang Yong Chon river, an officer suggested they leave behind a wounded man named Smith they had been assisting. Ritter and the other soldiers looked at each other and rejected that alternative. They lifted Smith into their arms and carried him across to the other side, then helped him along as they searched for safety and shelter.

Once, when they ran into a band of enemy soldiers and engaged in a firefight, one of the men assisting the wounded soldier, George White, was hit in the foot. Now, with two wounded men, they moved even more slowly. Finally, they ran into a corpsman who got both Smith and White to a hospital.

Halberstam writes, “For a long time Ritter heard regularly from White, who would always sign off his letters saying, ‘Thanks for the ride.'”

The Lord Jesus looked at the mass of humanity spread before Him and His heart broke. On the outside, the people looked whole and respectable enough, but underneath the exterior, Jesus thought they resembled sheep that have been ravaged by a pack of wolves, sheep direly in need of a shepherd. He called out to them, “Come unto me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”

He continued, “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.” (Matthew 9:36 and 11:28-30).

The world would have abandoned all those needy souls by life’s raging river. The Lord gets under them and lifts them and brings them along with Him.

And that’s when the ride of their life has its beginning.

Now, I grant you that many of us read the Lord’s invitation urging us to “come to me” and promising that we shall “find rest,” and conclude that we’re being summoned to a life of comfort, ease, and quietness.

However, we’re missing the in-between part, where we are told to “take my yoke upon you and learn from me.” That’s where the action is. That’s where the excitement comes in.

Taking Jesus’ yoke means to put yourself in harness to Him, to use another farm-boy metaphor. The idea of a yoke or the harness is the same: a) to join up with Him and b) put yourself under His authority.

Then, He tells us to “learn from me.” We are hereby enrolled in the Lord’s school. Classes meet every day of our lives and graduation occurs only at the moment of our deaths.

Those who listen to his radio Bible studies are sometimes surprised to learn that J. Vernon McGee died in 1988. However, this beloved brother’s five-year teaching plan for the entire Bible was recorded on tape and continues to be heard on radio stations across the globe. Dr. McGee had such a homespun way about him that many who are turned off by bombastic preachers feel themselves drawn to this kindly, fatherly speaker.

Often, at the beginning of his radio broadcast, Dr. McGee invites the listener to “come aboard the Gospel bus as we journey through the Scriptures.”

Come aboard. That’s the invitation our Lord was extending to the hurting and victimized, the searching and the confused, the lost and the least, of His day.

1) Join Jesus. We are to stay close to Him. That’s the devotional aspect of our discipleship–daily immersion in Scriptures, prayer, and meditation.

2) Obey Jesus. We are to submit to Him, the practical aspect of discipleship. The constant prayer of our lips is, “Lord, what will you have me to do?” Our discipleship proves itself in obedience to Him. (II Corinthians 2:9)

3) Learn from Jesus. This is the educational aspect of discipleship–to continue growing spiritually every day of our lives as we learn more of Him and His ways. God told His people in Isaiah’s day, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways” (Isa. 55:8). To learn of Jesus means to bring more and more of our thoughts and ways under His lordship. “Taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ,” as Paul put the matter in II Corinthians 10:5.

That’s the plan: stick close to the Lord, do what He tells you, and pay attention to the lessons He sends your way.

I can promise you one thing: the ride will be anything but boring. Scary sometimes, painful at others, laborious, delightful, sad, every emotion you can think of. Everything except boring. He will not allow that to happen; it’s a matter of principle with Jesus.

If you have become bored in the Christian life, beware, my friend—you have gotten off course. No one who ever walked the Galilean hills beside Jesus experienced one dull moment. Those who do may find they have strayed from His presence.

Patrick Bernson could tell you. After a career in construction in and around Cottonwood, Texas, Patrick is pulling up stakes any day now and moving his family to New Orleans. Not long ago, Patrick recommitted his life to Jesus Christ and got serious about living for Him. He apologized to his wife Dixie for the way he had lived, and threw himself into the Lord’s work at church, particularly among the young people.

And now, as a consequence of his commitment, he has enrolled at the New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary to learn more about Jesus and His ways. From now on, serving Christ is what he is all about.

And just how will he support himself once he plants his family in New Orleans? “The Lord who called me to life for Him will provide.”

Isn’t that a little scary? “Exciting is a better word for it.”

Patrick and Dixie Bernson are the envy of so many church members who have lost their joy, dulled their cutting edge, and forgotten why they were redeemed.

Cathy Pate knows. After earning her medical degree in the early 1990s, she worked as an internist for a hospital clinic in Charlotte, North Carolina, for some 15 years. She sang in the choir at church, threw herself into ministry to her patients, and grabbed every opportunity to travel to Haiti to touch the lives of that country’s unfortunates. A few months ago, she resigned her practice and moved to Richmond, Virginia, where she will use her medical skills to prepare newly-appointed Southern Baptist missionaries for the fields of the world where they will minister. In doing so, I might add–and most definitely without her permission–her income dropped by nearly one-half.

Dr. Cathy Pate’s heart’s desire is to obey her Lord Jesus Christ and serve Him in the way He has uniquely prepared her. She is one of our heroes.

It’s called faith. You die to the old life, burn your bridges behind you, cut the ties that held you in one place, and step out into the future, not knowing what it holds, but confident that the One who called you is in charge and that He knows what He is up to.

In the year 1770, when 14-year-old Marie Antoinette left her home in Vienna, Austria, to become the bride of 15-year-old Louis August, France’s crown prince and eventually King Louis XVI, an interesting ceremony took place. In a building on a small island in the middle of the Rhine River separating France from Austria, the young bride-to-be was stripped naked of all her clothing, every ornament, every possession. She then walked across to the other side of the room where attendants dressed her in the clothing of France. She was dying to the old life, literally leaving behind every aspect of her former life in order to become the future queen of France.

Think of that as a parable of the Christian life.

“Even so, consider yourselves to be dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 6:11)

“By faith, Abraham, when he was called obeyed by going out to a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; and he went out, not knowing where he was going…” “…therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God.” (Hebrews 11:8,16)

At the end, when it’s all over, we are told in Scripture to expect the Lord to say to us, “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful in a few things; I will make you ruler over many. Enter thou into the joy of the Lord.” (Matthew 25:21,23)

Beth Moore says, “Life shouldn’t be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather, to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly shouting, ‘Wow! What a ride! Thank you, Lord!”