JOY for 2014

Psalm  63:3, 4, 7

Because your lovingkindness is better than life  

my lips will praise You

So I will bless You as long as I live;

I will lift up my hands in Your name.

For You have been my help,

and in the shadow of Your wings

I sing for JOY.   

This year I had a word pressed upon my heart before I had verse.  The word is JOY.  I’ve been convicted that I’m not a particularly joyful person.  Specifically, when considering whether the example of my faith in Christ would encourage my children towards a relationship with God I had to conclude that no, it would not.  I don’t think they see any joy related to my faith.  Sure they see me laugh at family silliness and enjoy a movie or time with friends, but when turbulence hits I grumble just like the world does.  (Well, minus the cursing.)

I don’t see scripture making allowances for grumpiness, but I’ve been making MANY allowances for myself.  I can’t continue to call myself a disciple without addressing this area.  First some clarification of what I mean by joy. 

1. 1.       Joy is a choice.  Really my word of the year is two words: CHOOSE JOY.  Joy is not something that happens to me occasionally or something that falls upon me.  Joy is a response that I have complete control over.  Circumstances do not dictate my joy;  I determine my joy.
2. 2.       Joy is action oriented.  I tend to think of joy as a feeling, thus when I respond to situations based on how I feel, joy is usually missing. When I researched the word joy/joyful/rejoice in Psalm 63, the Hebrew words used refer to a joyful voice, singing, triumphing, shouting, crying out.  Expressing joy this way is an act of my will that can be completely separated from how I feel in the moment.  I see this ‘will’ reflect in the Psalm – “my lips WILL praise you,” “I WILL bless you,” “I WILL lift up my hands,” and “I (WILL) sing for joy,” where the will is implied.  (One of the other Hebrew words for joy comes from a word meaning ‘to spin round.’ I suspect choosing to spin round singing praises on a regular basis would change my life.)
3. 3.       Choosing joy is choosing to trust.  Verse 3 starts with “because your lovingkindness is better than life my lips will praise You.” When I choose joy I am saying, “I don’t see it right now, but I believe Your lovingkindness is better than life.  I believe You are good.  I trust there is something greater going on that I am missing.”

Joy in the face of tragedy and sorrow is a topic for a much longer discussion.  Right now I’m focused on joy in the face of kids who have left a mess, long check-out lines leading to late appointments, traffic jams, careless words tossed out by a friend or spouse, filthy kitchen floors,  and people that fail you.  This is daily life for me and historically I choose grumpiness!  I choose a silent anger hoping it will convey my displeasure.  I choose sharp, sarcastic comments.

By the calendar I’m been a disciple of Jesus for over 30 years.  Currently I think I’m a pretty crummy disciple.  Jesus urged “take up your cross and follow me,” but I’m not even willing to let go of minor offenses that fill daily life.  I can glibly state I will choose joy, but when I’m hurt, angry, frustrated, disappointed or overwhelmed, will I?  On my own strength, no.  No chance.  By submitting, repenting, and depending on the grace of Christ I can. 

I have yet to be tested, and something tells me it won’t be pretty.  My grumpy habits are pretty ingrained.  But Paul exhorts that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”  Who knew that the toughest thing of all would be a simple choice.  To choose joy.

Wrestling

It had been a long day, starting at 7 am moving my oldest son to college. By 11pm, after a trip to the airport, scouts with the kids and a good cry, I was wiped out. Then the panic attack hit.
Intellectually, I knew that I was exhausted, over-caffeinated and just generally stressed out. I needed to sleep, but as always my overwhelming feeling was "I need someone here. I can't do this alone."
But that's exactly what the Lord asked of me – to do it alone, depending only on Jesus. The day before, I prayed that being alone would be an opportunity to "yield Him my all, and to find all in Him." How differently that looks at midnight, by myself, fighting panic symptoms.
I felt like Jacob wrestling with the angel and scrambled through Genesis to find the reference. "Oh Lord, please don't require me to wrestle until daybreak!! I don't think I can!" I plead with God. I breathe. I finally kneel on my bathroom floor singing with a cappella hymns playing on the CD player. Crying while defiantly singing hymns of praise – defying how I feel at the moment to proclaim truth. Pleading with "Love that will not let me go" and "Breathe on me breath of God." Begging that God would draw nearer to me, that I could feel His presence.
Graciously, the Lord does not require a battle until dawn. Somewhere near 1 a.m. I lie in my bed listening to strains of "I surrender all." Lord, I surrender all! Even whatever I don't know I have left to surrender, I surrender! And I sleep.
Morning finds me weary, worn, grateful. I hate and dread the battles. But I will admit that every battle leaves me a little stronger, a little less intimated by this embarrassing issue of anxiety. And maybe a little more confident that when the Lord said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you," He really meant it.

Alone

I've struggled with many things these past seven months that my husband has been deployed, but one of the most difficult and most constant is feeling alone. Alone and responsible. Alone and falling apart. Alone and overwhelmed. Yesterday, I sat crying in the Target parking lot about moving my son to college – alone.
Lord, let's explore this 'alone thing.' Why do I so hate and fear feeling alone? Why do I so desperately want to call and connect with a human when I feel this way? It's an interesting balance because the Lord does want us to support each other and be there for one another. I've had to learn to ask for help and reach out to others. But this time, I think part of what the Lord is teaching me is to come to Him first and to depend on Him and Him alone. Too often I have run to husband or friend, or I have distracted myself with a book or TV rather than running to the Lord.
Lord, how long have I felt alone? I suspect this is not just about the deployment. What is the lie I believe? That I really am alone and have to do it all alone.
What is the truth I need right now, the truth that will soothe my spirit and calm my tears? "I will never leave you nor forsake you." I can't say that immediately stops the weeping. Instead I cry harder because something has been touched within my spirit, something that I don't believe but desperately want to believe. I search the scripture.
John 14:16 "I will ask the Father and He will give you another Helper, that He may be with you forever."
John 14:18 "I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you."
Deuteronomy 31:6 "Be strong and courageous; do not be afraid … for the Lord your God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you."
Joshua 1:5 "Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you."
I pray that I will believe – and be changed. Oh how I pray that I look back on this deployment and all my struggles and see growth and change.
This morning I read the 'wrong' devotion – the wrong date but so appropriate for me. August 18 in Streams in the Desert, entitled (unbelievably) "Alone."

The hill was steep, but cheered along the way

By converse sweet, I mounted on the thought

That so it might be till the height was reached;

But suddenly a narrow winding path

Appeared, and then the Master said, "My child,

Here thou wilt safest walk with me alone."

 

I trembled, yes my heart's deep trust replied,

"So be it, Lord," He took my feeble hand

In His, accepting thus my will to yield Him

All, and to find all in Him.

One long, dark moment,

And no friend I saw, save Jesus only.

The poem ends gloriously, with a description of heaven.

And we who gather in the golden streets,

shall oft be stirred to speak with grateful love

Of that dark day when Jesus bade us climb

Some narrow steep, leaning on Him alone.

I pray 'alone' would forever be an opportunity to "yield Him my all, and to find all in Him."