“Joy is the ribbon of the Lord's personality wrapped around and tied to all the gifts He gives us.”
Sharon West
My daughter’s middle name is Joy. According to one version of Webster’s dictionary, joy is “the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.” Another version equates joy with happiness, gladness, cheerfulness. Bethany’s middle name is not based on Webster’s worldview, but on the Biblical meaning of joy.
This particular Fruit of the Spirit is a cornucopia of fruitiness, so lush and full that it is difficult to paint its portrait within the limits of this column. Close your eyes and imagine with me a cluster of warm, fragrant, fresh-off-the-vine grapes. Pluck and savor the burst of flavorful juice as you partake of each grape one by one:
1. Joy is a quality derived from our transformational relationship with God.
2. As we yield to God’s creative purpose—in which we are being transformed into His image—joy takes root, grows, blossoms, and produces fruit.
3. “Joy is the sign that life has found its purpose, its reason for being!” John W. Ritenbaugh
4. The fruit of love and joy are inseparable: Joy is the offspring of our obedience to Jesus’ command to love.
5. Biblical joy is not an end in itself; it is a blessing, a byproduct of our relationship with God.
6. Joy is a product, not of the natural mind, but of the Holy Spirit.
7. Joy involves self-denial. When carried out with the intent of serving God and ministering to others, selflessness produces sustained and eternal blessings.
8. Joy and suffering are woven together in the cloth of life. As we listen to the presidential debates, it is evident that our world is riddled with a multitude of insolvable problems. We live each day with an edge of anxiety based on an historical knowledge that all sorts of disasters, both natural and human-made, are inevitable. No presidential, candidate—or any political or religious world leader—has all the answers.
The first seven grapes are tasty and easy to digest. This eighth one gives me indigestion! The fact that suffering is an inevitable aspect of life is hard for me to swallow. Especially such bitter grapes as child and domestic abuse, war, terrorism, world hunger, poverty, greed, theft, murder, corruption in politics (and religion)… And yet, the Biblical message is that we are to “rejoice always.”
9. "Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crops fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength. Habakkuk 3:17-19
So how do we “yet…rejoice”? How do we not get bogged down in suffering and lose sight of joy? The ever present tension between these two realities finds resolution only when we yield to God’s creative purpose, to that mysterious transformation into God’s image (#2).
While God wants to save and transform us, Satan, “the god of this age,” seeks to separate us from God’s love. But keep in mind that:
10. “The devil may be able to attack you but he has no power to steal your joy. Joy is a spiritual force inside your human spirit. Satan can touch your body, finances and family as the book of Job teaches, but he can't touch your spirit. Your spirit is off limits to the devil.” (Tom Brown)
“Joy and sorrow are inseparable,” said Kahlil Gibran. “Together they come and when one sits along with you…remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.” When sorrow sits with you, remember that joy is curled up close by. When joy sits with you, do not let anxiety rob you of your joy. Partake of its juiciness and be strengthened.
True to her name, my daughter, Bethany Joy, gives me great joy, but her essence is a mere foretaste of the JOY to come!
Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Sunday, November 4, 2007
JOY COMETH... -- November 3, 2007
I continue to process the events of September 28. The day began at 12:30 a.m. with my neighbors’ house catching on fire. Evening brought the birth of our first grandchild. I was on an adrenalin rollercoaster all day. That yucky feeling in the gut from an adrenalin cocktail feels the same, whether poured from a bottle of fear or joyful anticipation.
“Linda! Get up! John’s house is on fire!” Adrenalin cocktail number one! Several hours later, the shooting flames quelled and the fire died down to the point of burning embers and smoke, my husband and I retired to our bed to attempt to get some sleep. It felt wrong to go back to my comfy bed when my neighbors had lost their home; when, just on the other side of my bedroom wall, firefighters held vigil over the smoldering remains.
Sleep eventually came, following vivid images of the fire and a mental reliving of the last few hours, with tears seeping through the fog of shock. Prayers of gratitude for lives protected and requests for comfort and strength for my neighbors carried me into a fitful sleep.
When I awoke, the adrenalin surge that had raged internally throughout the wee hours of the morning, had plummeted, leaving me fatigued yet antsy, unable to relax. Fueled by a sense of helplessness, I had to “do something,” anything, to keep busy and hold my feelings at bay. I poured those feelings onto paper, which became my September 29th column, Rising from the Embers.
As I journaled, a backhoe dug out buckets of rubble so firefighters could extinguish the fire smoldering underneath. Family members dug through the huge pile of debris, hoping to find salvageable treasures.
That afternoon, around 2:00 p.m., my cell phone rang with news that my grandbaby was on the way. Adrenalin cocktail number two! Grandma and Grandpa-to-be raced to St. Vincent’s Women’s Hospital to hold vigil on our grandchild with an excited group of family members.
One of the things I most looked forward to was seeing my son’s face when he told us that the baby was here—a face beaming with happiness and excitement. When Matt strode into the waiting area—we thought to tell us the good news—his face was grave. The baby’s heart rate had dropped several times, and although it kept coming back up, there would be a C-section. Adrenalin cocktail number three!
Thirty years ago, during labor for our first child, the baby’s heart rate dropped and I was whisked into an emergency C-section. You can just imagine where my mind went as I hugged my son and told him that everything would be OK.
“LORD! I’ve prayed earnestly that you would spare my children ever having to go through the pain we endured when our first son, Jason, died shortly after birth! And now, here’s my other son, scared to death, knowing full well that his brother died following an emergency C-section! Not fair, Lord! How could you!”
I was so furious that my son and his wife had to feel that fear. I knew exactly what Matt was feeling—and I couldn’t do anything to spare him the fear and pain! I really wasn’t too worried that the same thing might happen to my grandbaby—but then, I really was worried that the same thing might happen.
To make a long story short, I did get to see that face beaming with joy and excitement, albeit, with a measure of weariness and relief around the edges. “It’s a boy!” Matt proclaimed, and our cheering section screamed with joy. Adrenalin cocktail number four!
That’s the reality of life: sorrow and joy; joy and sorrow. We often have rubble to dig out from under and it can be hard to find the treasures in the midst of grief and sorrow. And yet, “joy cometh in the morning” (or at 7:35 p.m.)! Psalm 30:5
To every thing there is a season…
A time to be born, and a time to die…
A time to weep and a time to laugh…
A time to mourn, and a time to dance…
A time to get, and a time to lose…
Ecclesiastes 3
“Linda! Get up! John’s house is on fire!” Adrenalin cocktail number one! Several hours later, the shooting flames quelled and the fire died down to the point of burning embers and smoke, my husband and I retired to our bed to attempt to get some sleep. It felt wrong to go back to my comfy bed when my neighbors had lost their home; when, just on the other side of my bedroom wall, firefighters held vigil over the smoldering remains.
Sleep eventually came, following vivid images of the fire and a mental reliving of the last few hours, with tears seeping through the fog of shock. Prayers of gratitude for lives protected and requests for comfort and strength for my neighbors carried me into a fitful sleep.
When I awoke, the adrenalin surge that had raged internally throughout the wee hours of the morning, had plummeted, leaving me fatigued yet antsy, unable to relax. Fueled by a sense of helplessness, I had to “do something,” anything, to keep busy and hold my feelings at bay. I poured those feelings onto paper, which became my September 29th column, Rising from the Embers.
As I journaled, a backhoe dug out buckets of rubble so firefighters could extinguish the fire smoldering underneath. Family members dug through the huge pile of debris, hoping to find salvageable treasures.
That afternoon, around 2:00 p.m., my cell phone rang with news that my grandbaby was on the way. Adrenalin cocktail number two! Grandma and Grandpa-to-be raced to St. Vincent’s Women’s Hospital to hold vigil on our grandchild with an excited group of family members.
One of the things I most looked forward to was seeing my son’s face when he told us that the baby was here—a face beaming with happiness and excitement. When Matt strode into the waiting area—we thought to tell us the good news—his face was grave. The baby’s heart rate had dropped several times, and although it kept coming back up, there would be a C-section. Adrenalin cocktail number three!
Thirty years ago, during labor for our first child, the baby’s heart rate dropped and I was whisked into an emergency C-section. You can just imagine where my mind went as I hugged my son and told him that everything would be OK.
“LORD! I’ve prayed earnestly that you would spare my children ever having to go through the pain we endured when our first son, Jason, died shortly after birth! And now, here’s my other son, scared to death, knowing full well that his brother died following an emergency C-section! Not fair, Lord! How could you!”
I was so furious that my son and his wife had to feel that fear. I knew exactly what Matt was feeling—and I couldn’t do anything to spare him the fear and pain! I really wasn’t too worried that the same thing might happen to my grandbaby—but then, I really was worried that the same thing might happen.
To make a long story short, I did get to see that face beaming with joy and excitement, albeit, with a measure of weariness and relief around the edges. “It’s a boy!” Matt proclaimed, and our cheering section screamed with joy. Adrenalin cocktail number four!
That’s the reality of life: sorrow and joy; joy and sorrow. We often have rubble to dig out from under and it can be hard to find the treasures in the midst of grief and sorrow. And yet, “joy cometh in the morning” (or at 7:35 p.m.)! Psalm 30:5
To every thing there is a season…
A time to be born, and a time to die…
A time to weep and a time to laugh…
A time to mourn, and a time to dance…
A time to get, and a time to lose…
Ecclesiastes 3
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)