Where is Joy?

Life is hard. We all know that. It’s why so many Christian authors, myself included, focus on joy and hope in their books. Because we are all just trying to make it through life. 

But that joy? The one that is supposed to buoy you up no matter the circumstances? That joy has been eluding me lately. While, conceptually, I know that life could be much worse, it’s been feeling as though there are hundreds of tiny pinpricks pushing down any rising joy. Illness, exhaustion, the car breaking multiple times, the fridge in constant need of repair, the plumbing leaking, my husband’s tenuous position as a federal employee, dust that insists on gathering on all the surfaces even though it must know I’m too busy to clean it, the panic at the thought of having to push a baby out of me in a few months, even the sunshine – because one day will be beautiful and the next cold, and my heart cries out for the lost warmth, making the next warm day almost depressing because I know it won’t last. 

And, through it all, the knowledge that my life is about to change forever with the addition of a child, and having no idea how to mentally process that. That it will be for the better, I know intellectually, but that knowledge doesn’t change the fear of the unknown, of the lingering whispers of doubt…of the questions I have for God.

I told my husband when we were at dinner the other day that I don’t need hope right now – I need joy. But really, aren’t they intertwined? If I truly felt – truly believed in – hope for the future as I stumble through my current forest, wouldn’t I feel that joy in all circumstances that Paul tells us about? Wouldn’t my gaze be fixed upwards or ahead instead of on the roots that keep tripping me? And therein lies the problem, I am realizing. 

As part of my devotions, I am reading Timothy Keller’s book Prayer. And this morning’s chapter was about seeking God’s face. Frankly, something I’m having difficulty doing right now. But I tried to keep my heart open as I went through the chapter and, lo and behold, it ended up being the answer to this question. Because, of course, that’s how God works.

How to find joy in all circumstances. 

In the past, I have ruminated on the solution to this, varying from concentrating on the small moments in life, to the hope ahead of me, to the greatness of God. 

And honestly? It’s all of those things. And yet so much more. Keller argues that before you find joy, you must be able to grasp who God – who Christ – is. Because as you grasp Him and all that encompasses, you grow to love Him. And that’s where you finally find joy.

Keller dove straight into my problem in the following quote:

What Paul is talking about [in Ephesians 3:14, 16-19] is the difference between having something be true of you in principle and fully appropriating it, using it, and living it in your inner being…you are in [Christ]. You are adopted into the Father’s family. You have the very divine life in you, the Holy Spirit. You are loved and accepted in Christ. You know about these things, and yet at another level you don’t know them, you don’t grasp them. You are still dogged by your bad habits, often anxious or bored or discouraged or angry. You may have many specific problems and issues that need to be faced and dealt with through various specific means. Yet the root problem of them all is that you are rich in Christ, but nevertheless living poor.

You know all the right things. But what good are they if they aren’t ingrained in your soul in a way that changes the way you see life? The book expostulates on this concept, talking about the beatific vision – God’s glory. To behold the glory of Jesus in such a way that we find Him beautiful for Himself, not for what He can to for us. To grasp it so fully that it fills us with “joy, rest, and delight”.  To find that spending time with Him is in itself satisfying. To be so immersed in the concept of God’s love and glory, that all other worries fade away, and that “beatific vision” gives us a quick glimpse of what we can expect in heaven. L.M. Montgomery, I have always believed, touches on this when she talks about The Flash:

It had always seemed to Emily, ever since she could remember, that she was very, very near to a world of wonderful beauty. Between it and herself hung only a thin curtain; she could never draw the curtain aside—but sometimes, just for a moment, a wind fluttered it and then it was as if she caught a glimpse of the enchanting realm beyond—only a glimpse—and heard a note of unearthly music.

Emily of New Moon

I’ve always read that part of Emily of New Moon, believing that it is a glimpse of heaven – a glimpse of what awaits us. And that is the concept that Keller, and the theologians he quotes, talk about when they delve into concentrating on the glory of God.

“If the beauty and glory of Christ do not capture our imaginations, dominate our waking thoughts, and fill our hearts with longing and desire- then something else will. We will be continually ruminating on something or some things as our hope and joy…[they] will rule our lives.”

I’ve been working on memorizing Psalm 5. Verse 11 says, “But let all those that put their trust in thee rejoice: let them ever shout for joy, because thou defendest them: let them also that love thy name be joyful in thee.”

And, when it comes down to it, this is what the chapter in the book is about. Grasping who God is, loving who He is, and therein finding your joy. 

But then the question became – how do I do this? It’s easy enough to say I need to grasp God’s love and all that means. To focus my eyes on His glory. It’s another thing to figure out how to do it in a way that actually translates to joy. But, unlike most books, Keller actually gives an answer.

If we want freedom from being driven by fear, ambition, greed, lust, addictions, and inner emptiness, we must learn how to meditate on Christ until his glory breaks in upon our souls.

But he is careful to clarify that we can only do this with the help of the Holy Spirit, pointing out that Paul himself asks the Spirit to give us the power to grasp the love of God.

Paul is talking about meditating and pondering something until you break through, until as we say, it ‘hits’ you. This breakthrough will happen, of course, only with the Spirit’s empowering help. How does that happen? It is through the Spirit’s blessing of our meditation on the saving work of Jesus.

I took an hour or more, reading parts of this chapter multiple times, praying for the Holy Spirit to let me also grasp this concept, to break through this wall I seem to have put up, and grant me joy. I half expected miraculous results, but I’ll be honest, that didn’t happen. Yet, I still feel the stirrings of longing inside of me, reading through all of this, taking the time to immerse myself in the truth of it. And I think that makes the difference. Because, assuming Keller is right about how to find joy, and I think he is, I’m going to try again. I’m going to back to scripture, back to meditation, back to prayer, and trust that God–that the Spirit will break through my own stubbornness and I’ll be able to let the everyday stresses – the roots that keep tripping me – take a back seat and once again be able to look up and see where I am going and find the idylls that will get me through this part of the forest.

Keller finishes the chapter talking about how when we “meditate and pray the gospel and its attendant truths into our heart with the power of the spirit”, our longings become satisfied, and moves into a quote by Augustine that did make my spirit rise. Because I feel like he touched on where all my forest idyll moments come in. You know, those moments of hope to get you through.

But what do I love when I love my God? Not the sweet melody of harmony and song; not the fragrance of flowers, perfumes, and spices; not manna or honey; not limbs such as the body delights to embrace. It is not these that I love when I love my God. And yet, when I love Him, it is true that I love a light of a certain kind, a voice, a perfume, a food, an embrace; but they are of the kind that I love in my inner self, when my soul is bathed in light that is not bound by space; when it listens to sound that never dies away; when it breathes fragrance that is not borne away on the wind; when it tastes food that is never consumed by the eating; when it clings to an embrace from which it is not severed by fulfillment of desire. This is what I love when I love my God.

Augustine’s Confessions

All these little things – they point us to God – to hope – to joy – because of our love of God. Because they point to God’s all-encompassing glory. Because they go beyond what we can understand.

I don’t need a miraculous moment to restore my joy. I just have to have faith that it can happen. A path forward. A way to look up instead of down. And that’s what God, through Keller, has given me.