Joy does not come easily or naturally to me. I tend to be rather a cynical person with a proclivity to worry. I will never forget the day when, as a teenager, I read the verse in Matthew where Jesus says, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6:27.) It was the first time it had occurred to me that worrying was a choice, and I could choose not to. It tied in with another verse I had recently learned, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7.) It occurred to me that I could give my worries and cares to God. I could carry them to the foot of the cross and then leave them there. It was an intentional act that I could choose to do, and then I didn't need to carry those burdens anymore. I began to do this. I didn’t always think to do this. But when I did, I felt a definite relief, a lifting of burdens. As I did it more and more it became more habitual. I honestly don’t feel like I became a different person, because I still wake up every day cumbered with the cares of my life. But when I realize that I am dwelling on those, I can make an intentional choice to give them to Jesus, and let them go. When I do this, I do have the “peace that passes understanding”, and joy easily follows.
A few years ago I had a summer that changed my life. I was given the opportunity to work at a camp near Colorado Springs, and the experience was so life-changing that rarely a day goes by where I don’t think about lessons I learned there. That experience put me in company with the type of Christians I had never encountered before-- people of radical faith. I worked on the kitchen crew, and we had a great dynamic. We enjoyed great fellowship, we got along well, we had a light-hearted comradry every day. I thoroughly enjoyed my work days because of my co-workers. Then one day we were grumpy. We were frustrated. We lacked our comradry. Our moods rubbed off on each other. There were accidents and mistakes. It was just a bad day. At one point the camp secretary came in and she noted the difference by saying, “I miss our happy kitchen.” Me too, I miserably thought, mourning for the atmosphere I had come to enjoy and not knowing if it would be restored.
But the next day we all came down and everything was back to normal. We were exchanging light-hearted banter. We were joyful. Our happy kitchen was back. It was just a bad day, and because all of us were seeking Christ, we were able to lay it aside and move beyond it, not letting the difficulties of a few hours dictate our reality.
Now, I live with people like that. People who live out their faith in a radical way. And today, we had a day like this. My husband, and my housemate’s husband, were both late to work and frustrated. My housemate had something happen in one of her familial relationships that was difficult. And I, of course, was affected by everybody else. I thought, this was going to be a rough, miserable day. But instead, a couple hours later both guys texted us to say they were doing much better. My housemate was also able to rest her cares in the Lord, and was joyful. By noon, we were all doing as well as we had ever been. We were joyful, our household comradry was restored. And I rejoiced once again that I have the privilege of doing life with these people. Everyone was able to give their cares to Christ, and lay aside the difficulties of the day, not letting the unexpected circumstances dictate how the rest of the day went. They chose Christ. They chose joy. And I am so proud of them.
As I thought more about it, I was realizing how gratitude and joy are so tied together. I have work that I love, friends and family who enrich my life, health, and beautiful things to enjoy. Gratitude for these was, and is, a choice. Giving my burdens to Christ and allowing them to be left at the foot of the cross-- that is a choice. Trusting God in the midst of worrisome and uncertain situations-- that is a choice. And every morning, I have the choice to wake up and choose joy.
This season has been one of the hardest of my life. I have been challenged in my circumstances again and again, and it has been difficult to make that choice in the midst of disappointment, unfilled longing and unmet expectation. It is as though God is challenging me to continue to choose joy when it is fundamentally difficult. It is hard. But the fruit is good. The fruit of these difficult days is so very good.
And so, though I am weary, though some days I fail, I will continue.
I will continue to choose joy.
