Quiet Fire Devotional | The Bag Collector : Release

Herbert Berkley
May 11
3 min read

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28 (ESV)

There's a woman down the street who keeps a curious collection—bags of every size, color, and purpose imaginable. Visitors never leave her house empty-handed. "Take one," she insists gently, eyes warm but strangely weighted. "You might need it later."

It seems thoughtful, even generous. But beneath the surface lies an analogy: she carries far more than just bags. Every bag symbolizes an unspoken wound, quietly cherished and carefully preserved. Her voice is always gentle but burdened; her eyes warm yet shadowed by memories that refuse to fade.

Is she showing others how to carry their belongings, or unconsciously teaching them how to hold onto pain?

Like this gentle neighbor, many of us secretly collect our own bags. Not canvas totes or backpacks, but invisible burdens woven from memories, disappointments, betrayals, and regrets. We carry these emotional bags with silent determination, quietly convinced that letting go would mean losing ourselves.

The Israelites knew this burden intimately. Even after miraculous deliverance, they clung tightly to selective memories. Their mouths watered recalling the fish of Egypt, forgetting entirely the brutality of their bondage (Numbers 11:5, ESV). They, too, chose to pick up the bags God had already graciously removed.

How often we echo this ancient pattern:

We remember wounds vividly but grace vaguely.
We rehearse betrayals, forgetting the healing already offered.
We relive guilt long after forgiveness has been granted.

We suffer from spiritual amnesia, selectively rewriting history to justify our burdens rather than release them.

Yet, Psalm 103:12 (ESV) gently reminds us: “As far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us.” Our emotional burdens—those heavy bags—were never meant to define us. They were meant to draw us to the One who offers genuine rest.

Jesus, the ultimate Bag-Bearer, willingly took upon Himself the entirety of our emotional baggage. "Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…" (Isaiah 53:4, ESV). The Hebrew term for "borne," nasa, vividly depicts lifting and removing burdens, placing them permanently elsewhere. Jesus didn't merely assist; He entirely removed the weight.

Still, we hesitate. Like the woman who distributes bags "just in case," we nurture subtle doubts about God's faithfulness.

We guard our hurts as if they prepare us for future wounds:

“If I hold this pain tightly, I'll avoid getting hurt again.”
“If I keep this memory sharp, I’ll never be blindsided.”
“Better to carry burdens than trust completely.”

But preparing for pain isn't readiness; it's fear disguised as prudence. Our pasts become checklists for future disappointment rather than testimonies of God's unfailing grace.

Consider this today: What would happen if you emptied your emotional bags?

Imagine ceasing to replay past betrayals. Envision letting go of long-resolved guilt. Picture surrendering anticipated anxieties about tomorrow's hurts. How much freer would you feel? Could your identity still thrive solely in Christ's redeeming love?

God doesn't ask us to erase our memories—only to release their hold. Scars can point to mercy instead of bitterness. Memories can speak of grace rather than grief. Past pain can turn into testimonies, not shackles.

Take a quiet moment and visualize your most burdensome emotional bag. Hold it clearly in your mind. Now picture Christ, lovingly extending His hands, lifting that burden joyfully from you. He didn't reluctantly bear your burdens; He willingly embraced them so you wouldn't have to.

Ask yourself gently: