Psalm 118:24 This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.
Romans 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
“Joy” is not an uncommon theme in Christian conversations. We often seek to make a distinction between happiness and joy. There have been many attempts to define the differences between the two, but one I particularly like describes happiness as an external momentary feeling based on circumstances, while joy is an internal state of being based on God. It is hard to define the difference, but as we often say about things that are complex and difficult to describe in mere words: “I know it when I see it!” Or maybe more precisely, I know it when I experience it.
There was a time in my life when joy was hard to come by. Many of you reading this were a part of my life in those days and know the story well because you walked alongside me during the events I am about to describe…that time in my life when I came to the end of many months caring for my husband, Paul, as he journeyed through late-stage prostate cancer. When he was diagnosed in 2010 and underwent surgery and radiation in 2011, we thought he was one of the many, many men who had been cured. Most are. During a long-planned trip to France in 2013, he experienced somewhat chronic abdominal pain we attributed to a pesky hernia he had been dealing with. We had postponed surgery until after our trip.
When we arrived home, we wasted no time getting him to the doctor and getting his surgery scheduled. What the surgeon discovered was that he did in fact have a hernia, but he also had metastatic cancer throughout his abdomen. We then weathered the ups and downs of 19 months of chemo with both good days and bad, good news and bad. In April of 2015, an inoperable intestinal blockage presented the last battle he would fight. Many of you have walked this path. It is hard.
At first, I felt strong and I was able to maintain a posture of positivity for several months. Until I realized this was forever. Paul died in April of 2015 and I was the model of grief management until about July, and then I thought I might as well die, too, because it was hard for me to find any reason to get out of bed in the mornings. Instead, I made a decision that I would choose joy. I had no idea exactly what that meant, but I bought a bracelet with that saying inscribed on it and wore it every day until I didn’t have to remind myself to “choose” anymore.
I hope I haven’t made any of you sad telling this story, because it is a hopeful story. Even in the darkest days, God will make a path for us to choose joy, find joy, discover joy, live a joy-filled life and perhaps—even—share joy with other people! I hope you who know me see that in my life. There are still pockets of grief tucked away—I get them out every now and then and look at them. That is normal to people who are grieving; we don’t have to apologize for that! But then we choose joy again.
It is odd what made me think about all of this. On Monday morning, I peeped at social media and saw photos of the massive snowfall that has blanketed the eastern coast. Video footage from the National Zoo showed panda bears who were starting at the top of a hill and sliding headfirst on their backs down the snowy hillside and walking back up to do the same thing again and again. I don’t think pandas laugh, but I could sense such joyful abandon in the pursuit they had chosen for this snow day. I so wanted to go sledding myself. I was reminded of a time in college when the snow blanketed Athens, Georgia, and everyone “borrowed” the lunch trays from our dining hall and used them to slide down Baxter Street in front of the dorms where so many of us lived. We made the evening news!
What have you done to “choose joy” lately? Our walk with Christ can take us to that place if we will allow Him to do so. It is not always easy. There are no platitudes being offered in this message today. Sometimes “choosing joy” means falling and getting up again and falling—again—and getting back up. Two things will help us on the journey. The first is abandoning ourselves to a God who has promised never to let go of us—and hanging on to that hope for dear life. The second is surrounding ourselves with Christian friends who are making the journey with us. Sometimes we need their hands reaching out, pulling us up from the slimy pit where we have fallen.
I have no snow day to offer you, but maybe you need to put on your favorite music and dance like no one is looking—by yourself, with someone you love or with some dear friends. Or turn the music up in your car and sing at the top of your lungs with your kids. They may think you are a little crazy, but don’t you want to keep your kids a little unsettled about your sanity? These will be stories they tell when they are older—and you are teaching them to abandon themselves to joy. Maybe you are having a hard time getting out of bed. I have been there. Tell someone. Talk to someone. Call me and talk to me! I don’t have any magic formula, but having someone who has trudged through grief before walk alongside you can help you heal. Joy is often something we choose together!
I can promise you that we have a good God who has given us the capacity for deep, abiding joy. But sometimes we need to remind ourselves and sometimes we need help on the journey. Let’s choose joy together, good people! We were created for such.
Oh, God in heaven, thank you that you are also God here on earth where living sometimes hurts. On those days and every day, help us choose to walk toward joy, even if we aren’t quite sure where to find it. Walking with and toward you is the secret. And send some folks our way to help us make the journey together. In Christ we pray, AMEN.
With much love, good people!
Laura
