Atlas and Resting in God

I’m not classicist, so please bear with me: In Greek mythology, Atlas was one of the titans that went to war against Zeus and his siblings during the Titanomachy. Upon defeat, many titans were sentenced to various punishments, Atlas among them. His punishment was to hold up the sky.

Does a titan get tired or feel strain in his muscles? Does sweat drip down to the tip of his nose? Hesiod’s Theogeny calls Atlas “unwearying” or “indefatigable” depending on the translation, so maybe not. But from my very human, non-titan perspective, I imagine holding up the weight of the sky for eternity must cause one’s muscles to strain to the point of uncontrollable tremors, and living in forced restlessness must increase the longing for rest.

Between the ever-increasing demands at work, personal and family problems, and also all those regular person things you have to do to be a regular person (that is, cooking, cleaning, sleeping), I feel as if I am holding up the sky. If I falter for just one moment, it will collapse and crush me. I am not the only one who feels this way, and many people have it worse than I do. Many face sickness and injury, grief and loss, hopelessness and despair, but we are all carrying some kind of weight. We ache and groan, straining ahead, looking for rest everywhere, yet never finding it because we feel cursed to hold up the weight of our lives. It’s tempting to leave the thought there and wallow in despair.

Despair is a sweet Siren luring us to death, and we must urgently deny her call. No matter how much you and I are carrying, we are not Atlas. We must remember that, even when it hurts, even when it feels embarrassing to admit. We do not carry the weight of the sky on our shoulders; God, our Father, does. And praise God: He is not Atlas either.

Atlas is a titan born of Greek mythology and false religion. God is real, living, active, and ever-present. He made the world. He is the one who holds the world in his hands. By his might he supports the heavens, sustaining the very laws of physics (which he wrote, by the way), and doing so is not a dreaded punishment but his delight.

If our God is the preserves the laws of gravity so that we maintain our steady course around the sun and the Milky Way continues in its spiral, surely he will keep and sustain us through all our trials and all those things that weary us. We do not hold up anything; rather, we ourselves are held by the hands that made the universe.

Jesus does not ask us to strive and strain. He said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. 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” (Matt. 11:28-30, NIV).

Rest sounds nice, but how do we get there? It’s not like we can just drop our responsibilities. Hebrews 12:1-3 might help us out: “Let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne. Think of all the hostility he endured from sinful people; then you won’t become weary and give up” (NLT, emphasis mine).

We do our work, or run our race, from a place of rest by keeping Jesus and his sacrifice front and center in our minds. We remember that we do it for him, not for anyone else. We remember that he doesn’t need us to work for him; he wants us. And he will equip us for everything he has called us to do. Resting in the Lord is a choice we have to make consciously and constantly. I often try to take the sky from my Heavenly Father’s hands. I need to humble myself. It is not mine to hold. When we catch ourselves thinking, “I feel like Atlas,” it’s a warning. We need to take a step back and reframe from seeing ourselves as the ones holding the weight of the sky to trusting that it is our great and mighty Lord sustaining it.