Pursuing Joy
One question I frequently receive in relation to grief is “How are you so happy?” Samantha’s Story has changed me, for the good and the bad. There are so many layers to unpack with this particular question and I often stumble in the moment. My initial reaction is to apologize for giving a false impression because that is NOT how I feel inside. In no way do I feel “happy” about my circumstances nor does my humanity revel in my present suffering. My humanity experiences anguish as much as the next person and I am in no way exempt from experiencing pain anymore than the next person.
I am not happy, but I am joyful
While I wouldn’t describe my present outlook as happy, I would describe my outlook as joyful. To me, “happy” and “joyful” are two very different words. Happiness is largely tied to current circumstances, comfort, and individual success. Joy is rooted in hope and is intertwined with the long term. I would be perfectly happy eating a whole pan of brownies in the moment, but would that bring me that long-lasting joy? Not so much. Does exercise bring me immediate happiness? Anyone who has worked out with me can definitely say “NO”. But will the exercise pay its dividends long term and bring me joy through a better functioning body? Yup. When we talk about grief or any variant of suffering, I’d be foolish to suggest that we link arms and just “be happy.” I would gently suggest that we tap into the hope-filled joy that flows like a river within the deepest, darkest caves. We can simultaneously weep for the present, while also joyfully yearn with anticipation for the renewal of all things. We can cry out to the God of the universe in anguish, while also savoring the joy of the eternity to come.
This present suffering
The New Testament authors knew a thing or two about suffering. James wisely writes in James 1:2 that we should:
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.”
The early church understood the concept of persecution and was experiencing the tangible threat of martyrdom as a result of their beliefs. So why would James use the word “joy” in offering encouragement to his persecuted brothers and sisters? Isn’t the concept of joy completely counter-intuitive to their current circumstances? James is tapping into that deep river of joy that leads directly into the arms of Jesus. The eternal joy that James references has the ability to lift our eyes from the present and allows us to see the hope in store.
How do we pursue joy?
Now that we’ve defined joy, the next question is: how do we pursue joy in the valley? Many who would choose to read a blog post about pursuing joy are likely experiencing suffering themselves or walking alongside someone who is in the midst of trial. How can we encourage either ourselves or those close to us in hope-filled joy without coming off as corny or insensitive? I’ll just come out and say it: the topic of suffering makes people suuuuuper uncomfortable. We don’t know how to handle awkward silence or tears. We tiptoe around hard subjects and avoid sensitive conversations at all costs. Or, worse, we fill the air with Christian-ese phrases like “it’s all a part of God’s will” or “he/she is in a better place.” While the former phrases may be true, goodness it’s a painful way to comfort someone. Might I offer an alternative? As you pray through your trial and/or as you pray for someone close to you, ask the Lord to grant an eternal perspective. As you pray for your friend, beg Him to grant joy-tinted glasses that yank their eyes from this present suffering and lock them on to the eternal. Ask the Holy Spirit to act as a lighthouse in the dense fog that guides the suffering towards the beacon of joy-filled truth.
Please note that this alternative has very little to do with us (sigh of relief). As much as we can be the hands and feet of Jesus on this side of heaven, how much better is the Holy Spirit at comforting us, granting peace and infusing joy? I cringe when I hear someone say “all we can do is pray…” with a shrug in defeat. Friend, that is the best possible thing we could do! When I’m in the pit, I need Jesus himself to come yank me out and hold me upright. When I’m in the pit and can’t even get the words out, I need the prayer warriors beside me to say them for me. As we walk alongside the suffering and the hurting, of course we should love and serve them. Please don’t discount the power of prayer, because He gives gifts that we can’t give. Despite my craftiness, I can’t make joy-tinted glasses that yank my eyes out of the pit of destruction and fix my eyes on the eternal. Only the Holy Spirit can do that.
A note of encouragement
In John 16, Jesus prepares the disciples for His earthly death and uses the analogy of a pregnant woman about to give birth. Though the pregnancy is long and the pain unbearable, the joy is coming. In verse 22, Jesus then acknowledges:
“So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.”
When we were in the 26th hour of labor with Katie, I distinctly remember Devin squeezing my hand and encouraging me “she’s coming! I can see her, she’s almost here!” I wanted to punch him in the nose because every fiber of my being wanted to escape the pain. Just as with the woman Jesus describes in verse 21, I was in deep anguish. Yet, when I held Katie for the first time, all of my pain was gone. All of my anguish was over. The joy had arrived. Friends, that moment awaits us when we meet our Heavenly Father face to face. The joy is on the horizon. Press on, friend. Press on.
The messy, grainy, beautiful first picture of Katie and Mama. February 2014
