I think I wanted to believe that joy could be chosen, the way gratitude is dug out from the landscape of each day or the way a flower is plucked from a field. If my circumstances aren't going to change, I reasoned, I'll find a way to live above them - in joy. It's a message I've heard often, and I'm not arguing it here as much as wondering if there's not more to it than this. More to it than "choosing" joy.
For a long time, I've earmarked those ancient words in the Psalms, the ones that say "weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." They drip with hope, no? But the way I've understood them has also been a weight around my heart.
What about when the night shows no sign of surrendering to daylight? What about when the morning comes accompanied, not with joy, but with double-lidded eyes and a sorrow hangover from the restless night before?
I wrestle with my soul, and in the end, I know. I am not the one who changes seasons. Positive or 'faith-filled' thinking does not turn the night to day or call forth the morning, only turns a light on in the darkness.
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I came across these beautiful words a few days ago, and my insides leapt in recognition and all my 'shoulds' dropped to the floor:
"There is a time when ashes give way to beauty, but before we hold that in our hand and call our cup overflowing, I believe we must fully mourn what has been consumed by the ash... And I know, now, the way you know something whether anyone ever agrees with you or not, that joy is not what lasts. Joy is nice and sunshine is good. But it is not eternal. What remains, what has always remained, like those arms that hold us in everlast, is love."
I knew, right then, that my word from the start, the one I didn't want to speak because it seemed too cliche and overdone, is love. Only love.
Love that holds us in the mourning, in the emptying. Love that kneels with us in the smoldering ash. Love that heals. Love that binds up wounds. Love that turns the seasons, stays awake through the night and rises the sun in the morning. Love that fills and spills over the sides of the cup. Love that clothes in a new garment, the one of joy, when the time has come, and beckons, Come, take a walk with me.
Give me love, I cry, and this will be my bread and water come night or day. And I will wait, for the new, unscripted song to rise.
[Closing with one of my favorite songs from 2012, still singing into 2013...]
Hi Amber
ReplyDeleteI have battled with this one for a long time in my life, trying all the gimmicks that promised joy, but to no avail. Until our Pappa God opened my eyes to see that joy is and will always be a fruit of His character! Only as I learn to come to Him, abide in Him and rest in Him, will I be able to experience His joy and peace and all the fruit of Himself. I cannot manufacture joy or anything else with any religious practice!
Much love XX
Mia
That's good, Mia - "joy is and always will be a fruit of His character." So true, friend. I know that the only real joy I've felt in awhile is this, learning to come to Him, abide in Him and rest in Him. And strangely enough, here in this abiding, there is room for both joy and mourning.
Deletebeautiful! My heart resonates sister....may I offer you this :) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYuGuxr7MB0
ReplyDeleteThough I am sure you are familiar with it.
Thank you :-) I do love Audrey's heart and music.
DeleteDear friend, how I love your questioning, seeking, probing heart. I hear you -- it is all about love, and I wonder, too, if joy is sometimes not so much a lifting, but an anchor that holds us fast in those times when all our movement and wanting and seeking get us "nowhere."
ReplyDeleteSo much good to digest here. God is joy, and God is love, and so I wonder if much of the point is simply that in any of those qualities that are his in perfection - if when we come close, that is when we know are held. At times, his mercy will be the thing, at other times joy and probably always love. Yes, always love.
I think you're right - at different times of being held, we'll experience different facets of him in all his perfection. And while all are always present in him, for he is all, sometimes it's one thing that he displays more than another. I think, with regards to joy, it's perhaps this image of us needing to get up and dance and laugh and smile that weighs me down. Because I'm learning to taste of joy even in mourning, and so the two can somehow coexist. I can smile and I can sing, but I also have sorrow in my heart. It's not a joy yet that completely throws off mourning, out of sheer determination or obligation, because it's just not time. Yet. And here, in this place, it amazes and comforts me that there is always love.
DeleteI hesitated to post this, because it was an in-the-moment thing that seemed it could come across much different than I meant. What I didn't mean to say in this post is that I have no joy or that I've been searching for it through religious practices or even that I'm drowning in sorrow. I think what I hoped to convey is how freeing it was to realize that not only do I not need to push myself to joy before I'm done mourning, but God also doesn't push me there. While the grief sometimes breaks me, I know, too, that my heart is more alive in God's presence as we walk through this together. In this place of knowing, I can experience his goodness whether it's night or whether it's morning. And that is a liberation and a comfort. Don't know why, I felt I needed to clarify that :-)
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you posted this! I didn't think for a minute that you didn't have joy. I absolutely agree with what you are expressing -- that the dancing, laughing, singing kind of joy isn't always the fruit in our communion with God while we suffer. Instead, as you say, our hearts are more alive IN his presence. Alive TO his presence. Liberation and comfort...yes!
DeleteThank you, sweet friend. I didn't mean to sound defensive - I don't know why I got all self-conscious here. But I know you understand the heart behind what I expressed here, and again, I find myself so grateful for your gracious heart. And most of all, praise Jesus for making us alive in his presence!
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