Looking for joy can sometimes feel like looking for signs of spring in winter, or signs of new life in the desert. Anxiety, depression, stress, sleep deprivation, lack of self care, niggly illnesses all add up to a kind of numb weariness that continually ebbs and flows. A physiological vicious cycle.
Lent is good – it’s not just me taking time to visit the desert and acknowledge that desert times are a part of faith-filled living.
Some weeks I ask myself what does joy look like – I often think it must look different to me than for others. I struggle with it to be honest. It seems over-demanding, too energetic, in my face; too bright. How can a word, a concept evoke that kind of avoidance within me? How can such a tiny word make me feel so inadequate, so full of failure. As a Christian I know I’m supposed to have an endless supply of joy, yet I am not good at taking hold of it or holding onto it, or perhaps sometimes even spotting it in the first place, and other times fear gets in the way of even going near it – whatever it is!
….the Lord made the heavens.
Splendor and majesty are before him;
strength and joy are in his dwelling place.
Ascribe to the Lord, all you families of nations,
ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. (1 Chronicles 16:26-28 NIV)
The one definition of joy that I have felt I can grab hold of I came across on social media of all places: ‘Joy is peace dancing’.
Peace that passes understanding, that does not depend on my circumstances or ability to achieve it. Peace that is a gift from God, the gift of being accepted and belonging with God who can carry the weight of the universe – and me – in the palm of his hand. Whose love is stronger than death itself, who can handle all that life can throw at me. That peace – dancing. That may not look like the joy that the world talks about but to me that resonates deeply. That joy is moments of quiet rest in the safety of the hollow of his hand, looking into his face and smiling back, and letting my heart dance, free in his presence. Here joy is not a demand, or something to find the energy to achieve, it’s simply present and tangible and without expectations. And maybe from here I can get more practiced at spotting this joy as it spills out of God’s hand into our lives – he is a God of miracles after all!
“May we shout for joy over your victory and lift up our banners in the name of our God.” (Psalm 20:5)
Looking for joy in the barren places does have it’s advantages – when I spot it, grab it and hold on for dear life before it slips away – it holds a beauty and God-giveness precisely because it is so very unexpected. Like the wonder of crocuses and snowdrops standing tall and confident of spring despite the snow and howling wind.