“No, wait”—we say, cautiously approaching Jesus—“you don’t understand. I’ve really messed up, in all kinds of ways.” I know, he responds. “You know most of it, sure. Certainly more than what others see. But there’s perversity down inside me that is hidden from everyone.” I know it all. “Well—the thing is, it isn’t just my past. It’s my present too.” I understand. “But I don’t know if I can break free of this any time soon.” That’s the only kind of person I’m here to help. “The burden is heavy—and heavier all the time.” Then let me carry it. “It’s too much to bear.” Not for me. “You don’t get
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