a simple path to joy (part 3): faith for the bend in the road

In the first two posts of this series, I've suggested that true joy comes when we face life honestly and cultivate gratitude for what we have and where we are. These choices get us through the gate and onto joy's path, and they help us navigate each intersection.

The third choice on the pathway to joy comes when we reach a bend in the road. It's a fact of life that we can't see what's ahead. But joy does not depend on knowing what comes next or being able to control it.  True joy cannot be seized or managed.  We don't get there by straining harder, but rather by releasing our hold on what we cannot control anyway. Christian joy comes when we recognize our own helplessness. That is, it comes through faith -- faith rooted in the reality of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ, and in what he promises to do for all creation. We await the renewal of all things. We believe it is coming. Trouble may lurk around the next bend, but the pain, sorrow, and madness of this world is not final. It is merely a symptom of our world's brokenness and need for restoration. That restoration has been promised by the God who created all things. We can count on it. And it has already begun to take effect with the resurrection of Jesus. 

The story of Jesus is powerful precisely because when he became human he entered fully into the mess and the brokenness of this world. But his life was fully surrendered to God the Father and therefore fully energized by the Holy Spirit. His mastery of being human, his perfection, is more than just a model for us to follow (though it is that). It's what qualified him to break the power of sin and death by offering himself in our place. He took the punishment we deserved. He died our death, so that we could truly live.

The New Testament calls joy a fruit — one of the character qualities that naturally arises from a life energized by the Holy Spirit. This, too, suggests that joy comes not by straining, but by surrender, not by trying, but by trust in the transforming power of God. That power is made available to us in Jesus Christ. A gift to each of us who surrenders. We can walk in this joyful reality by facing our brokenness with honesty, embracing our present with gratitude, and responding in faith to life's uncertainties. We may not know what the future holds, but we know who holds the future. And that makes all the difference.

Now for a word of warning. The pathway to joy is not a path we walk only once. Honesty, gratitude, and faith are not quick fixes for joy. They must become habits. We must continue to face life with honesty, to receive our circumstances with gratitude, and to embrace the future with faith. As one Bible scholar puts it, "Like muscles, the capacity for joy atrophies if we do not use it regularly. Those who wait for some great occasion for joy and gratitude to God are not likely to recognize it when it happens." (Ellen Davis, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs, 221; quoted in James Limburg, Encountering Ecclesiastes: A Book for our Time, 114). We begin practicing honesty, gratitude and faith right here, with whatever we're facing.

Paul was among the early Christians who traveled around the Roman world to spread the news about Jesus' resurrection from the dead. He had some utterly strange things to say about joy:

In his letter to the church in Corinth he said, "In all our troubles my joy knows no bounds." (2 Corinthians 7:4) He spoke of others who had "overflowing joy" "in the midst of a very severe trial (2 Corinthians 8:2). And Paul was not alone in noticing that joy and trials often went hand-in-hand. James, the brother of Jesus, wrote "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds." (James 1:2) Pure joy? When facing trials? Why? He goes on to say, "because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:4) James is saying we ought to be grateful for the effects of those trials on our character. Through the eyes of faith, we know that hard times help us to grow in important ways -- provided we respond with open hands and open hearts. That brings pure joy.

We no longer need to worry about what's ahead. If something good happens, we can celebrate. If we face difficult times, we can be glad for what those experiences will do in us so that we can become who we were meant to be. We win either way! That frees us to face our present situation honestly and receive it with gratitude.

Paul discovered this. He wrote, "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:11–13)

And so can you!

embracing the ordinary

In the two months that have passed since my most recent post, a lot of life has happened:

• 2 weeks in Israel on a study tour with my Dad, my doktorvater, and my pastor
• 10 days to pack for a cross-country move and say our goodbyes
• a garage sale in Wheaton
• a drive across 7 states to our new home with a 3-day stop in Colorado to be with family
• Easton's 6th birthday
• the death of my grandmother, age 93, in Washington state and her memorial service the day after we arrived in Oregon
• getting settled in our new home and integrating all of my grandma's things into it
• reconnecting with friends and family
• a garage sale in Oregon
• finding a new church in our neighborhood
• figuring out grocery stores, libraries, parks, museums, etc.
• a 5-day camping trip with Danny's mom and all of his brothers and their families
• helping with a week of Vacation Bible School at our home church in Oregon
• getting the kids registered for school
• organizing and re-organizing the garage to make room for Danny's office
• buying a washer and dryer
• beginning dissertation research again after a 4-month hiatus

With the exception of my trip to Israel, this list is not glamorous. It represents a lot of sweat and a lot of stress, and even a good deal of fun, but it does not appear to be a recipe for changing the world (or making a splash in academia, for that matter). This was brought home to me when I encountered a (very blunt) young adult from our home church this week who has watched the adventure of our life unfold over the past dozen years. He remembers when we set out for the Philippines in 2002, ready to reach the lost for Christ. Our early letters, he says, were exciting and inspiring. But then life got ordinary. We moved to North Carolina to work at headquarters, and our "biggest" news then was playing soccer [sic: kickball] with the neighbor kids. He didn't need to even mention our next move -- a journey into academic obscurity in Wheaton -- for me to get his point: we've become rather ordinary, nothing to write home about.

Fair enough, I told him, and moved on with the task of eating my dinner and getting ready to be mobbed by more than a dozen precious kids, well over half of them hispanic, for a loud and crazy night of VBS. All through the crafts, games, snacks, and Bible stories, I pondered our brief conversation. Was he right?

In my younger years, when we started our adventure in missions, I would have agreed with him. Life was too short to waste it on ordinary suburban life -- a house with a cute front yard, a minivan, 2.5 kids, plenty of time with family, and occasional trips to Disneyland. I still agree that if that's all there is to it, something is amiss. But a dozen years in ministry has taught me that the recipe for a transformed life calls for large quantities of patient, ordinary, faithful investment and only an occasional headline-making event. Going to Israel was great, for example, but the true fruit will come from years of Bible teaching injected with personal passion and on-the-ground experience. 

View of Ancient Shechem from Mt. Gerazim - Photo C. Imes

A Samaritan Village on Mt. Gerazim - Photo C. Imes

 On Tuesday night of VBS, we heard the story of the Samaritan woman at the well, which I've blogged about before. I was excited for two reasons. First, the story was being told in first-person by my teenage daughter, who did a fabulous job!  But I was also excited because I have been there. While we couldn't get to the well itself because we lacked a bullet-proof bus, we drove to the top of Mt. Gerazim and looked down into the valley where the ancient city of Shechem (and Jacob's well) has now been swallowed up by modern-day Nablus. 

We drove right through a Samaritan village and climbed off the bus at the site of their annual sacrifice (commemorating the sacrifice of Isaac on -- they say -- Mt. Gerazim). We saw their distinctive dress and saw first-hand how the 600 Samaritans alive today maintain a distinct identity from their Jewish neighbors. 

A Samaritan Priest - photo C. Imes

It was my first opportunity to spice up a Bible lesson with a story from our trip, and I hope there are many more opportunities in the days ahead. Our lives may look ordinary on the outside, but it's never been about us anyway. We carry inside this ordinary vessel the extraordinary power of the gospel:

"For what we preach is not ourselves [good thing!], but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness,' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay [that is, ordinary jars for everyday use] to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. . . . So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:5-7, 18

We have new neighbors who need to meet Jesus, and we'll be far more likely to earn an opportunity to share Christ if we take the time to play kickball with them than if we decide that the effort is not worth our time. So here's hoping for lots of ordinary days . . .