When life sucks, I have a hard time rejoicing. But God wants believers to rejoice always (Philippians 4:4).
Always?
Surely God doesn't mean always. Because that's impossible.
How can we be expected to rejoice when we're stuck in a job we hate? Or when our kids are sick? Or when our marriage is at an all-time low? Or when the doctor tells us we are infertile? Or when we don't know how we're going to pay the mortgage this month?
How can a reasonable God require us to rejoice in these kinds of circumstances?
I think the answer is He doesn't.
He never calls us to rejoice in circumstances at all. He calls us to rejoice in Him, no matter what our circumstances look like.
I think this distinction is huge. It directly affects how we view God.
Philippians 4:4 reads, "Rejoice in the Lord always."
If we think God wants us to rejoice over the loss of a child or our recent divorce, then we'll see God as sadistic and unfeeling.
But if we think God wants us to rejoice in Him - His goodness and His unfailing love - while we're in the circumstances, then we'll see God as a compassionate Savior and a heroic Redeemer, offering us hope that we don't otherwise have.
Here's how that pans out in reality.
You've just moved to a new town where you have no friends or family to speak of. You are far from home. You feel isolated and depressed as you grieve the friendships you've left. You're hating life right now, loathing each and every minute. And the Lord says rejoice. If we hear this as "rejoice in your situation", we'll say, "There is nothing good about this situation. I am hurting! Even if I try to think positively about all the Lord might have in store for me in my new surroundings, that doesn't make my present pain any less." But, if we hear the command to rejoice as "rejoice in the Lord," we can say, "Lord, I hurt right now. The end of this pain is nowhere in sight. But I know that you love me, and I know you are in control. Thank you for being so trustworthy, especially when life is difficult."
The difference is, when we are rejoicing in who the Lord is instead of what our circumstances are, we are free to feel our pain. We can be honest about our emotions and don't have to feel guilty for not feeling joyful toward life.
Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts
3.25.2010
His Grace is Sufficient
I am hanging out in the pediatric wing of Baptist Memorial Hospital. I'm here with Allie, my 8 month old. She had a fever with a mean cough and runny nose for a couple of days. Then the cough turned into a wheezing, and it was clear she was having trouble catching her breath. So I took her to the pediatrician, pretty much expecting him to tell me it was just a bad cold. He didn't.
After listening to her lungs, doing a complete blood count, and measuring oxygen levels before and after an Albuteral treatment, the doctor said she had bronchiolitis. Basically, the lining of her airways were swollen, making it harder for her to breathe. This was caused by a nasty cold virus called (RSV). The virus also caused her airways to become infected, resulting in pneumonia. She had a ton of mucus in her chest, and because she is so little, she doesn't have the muscle power to cough that crud up. So her little swollen lungs filled with mucus.
Our pediatrician calmly told me to drive Allie directly to the hospital. Oddly, I never experienced any anxiety. I was not worried at all. Don't get me wrong, I was concerned. I just wasn't emotional about it. I felt like I was being sent on an adventure.
When we got to the ER, the receptionist pulled up the order from our pediatrician. As he read it, his eyes got big, and he said, "Oh, they are going to call her right back." I thought, "Wow, he must think she's in pretty bad shape," but I never got overly excited about it. And when the ER doctor told us we were definitely being admitted, I didn't panic. When I saw my baby wearing oxygen, an IV, a heart monitor, and an oxygen monitor, I wasn't overwhelmed with sadness.
When we made it through the first night, and the pediatrician checked her the next morning, and she said, optimistically, we would not be going home for 3 more days, I never felt scared.
I began to wonder if my lack of worrying meant I was a bad parent. I began to worry because I wasn't worried. I wasn't the mom who was constantly crying and too worried to sleep. And part of me felt like I should've been that worked up. But then a friend reminded me of a discussion our Sunday School class had two weeks ago.
We were talking about joy and how God wants us to be joyful in all circumstances. Our class batted around possible definitions for joy and wondered how one could be joyful in the midst of terrible circumstances, like when your infant is hospitalized with a severe illness. We decided that joy is an inner peace and confidence in God's goodness and His sovereignty, no matter what happens. One of my classmates wisely noted that we can't imagine ourselves having the capability of being joyful when the worst is happening to us. It's not until we are actually in the tragic situation that God, through His sufficient grace, offers us the ability to choose joy. Make no mistake, it's a choice. God doesn't force joy into our hearts. But He offers us the truth that He is both good and sovereign, completely in control of the situation. We can choose to believe God and be comforted, or we can choose to not believe God and be anxious.
Maybe my sense of peace throughout Allie's hospitalization was because I trusted God with my child's health. I'd like to think so. It's either that, or I am emotionally deranged. You be the judge.
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After listening to her lungs, doing a complete blood count, and measuring oxygen levels before and after an Albuteral treatment, the doctor said she had bronchiolitis. Basically, the lining of her airways were swollen, making it harder for her to breathe. This was caused by a nasty cold virus called (RSV). The virus also caused her airways to become infected, resulting in pneumonia. She had a ton of mucus in her chest, and because she is so little, she doesn't have the muscle power to cough that crud up. So her little swollen lungs filled with mucus.
Our pediatrician calmly told me to drive Allie directly to the hospital. Oddly, I never experienced any anxiety. I was not worried at all. Don't get me wrong, I was concerned. I just wasn't emotional about it. I felt like I was being sent on an adventure.
When we got to the ER, the receptionist pulled up the order from our pediatrician. As he read it, his eyes got big, and he said, "Oh, they are going to call her right back." I thought, "Wow, he must think she's in pretty bad shape," but I never got overly excited about it. And when the ER doctor told us we were definitely being admitted, I didn't panic. When I saw my baby wearing oxygen, an IV, a heart monitor, and an oxygen monitor, I wasn't overwhelmed with sadness.
When we made it through the first night, and the pediatrician checked her the next morning, and she said, optimistically, we would not be going home for 3 more days, I never felt scared.
I began to wonder if my lack of worrying meant I was a bad parent. I began to worry because I wasn't worried. I wasn't the mom who was constantly crying and too worried to sleep. And part of me felt like I should've been that worked up. But then a friend reminded me of a discussion our Sunday School class had two weeks ago.
We were talking about joy and how God wants us to be joyful in all circumstances. Our class batted around possible definitions for joy and wondered how one could be joyful in the midst of terrible circumstances, like when your infant is hospitalized with a severe illness. We decided that joy is an inner peace and confidence in God's goodness and His sovereignty, no matter what happens. One of my classmates wisely noted that we can't imagine ourselves having the capability of being joyful when the worst is happening to us. It's not until we are actually in the tragic situation that God, through His sufficient grace, offers us the ability to choose joy. Make no mistake, it's a choice. God doesn't force joy into our hearts. But He offers us the truth that He is both good and sovereign, completely in control of the situation. We can choose to believe God and be comforted, or we can choose to not believe God and be anxious.
Maybe my sense of peace throughout Allie's hospitalization was because I trusted God with my child's health. I'd like to think so. It's either that, or I am emotionally deranged. You be the judge.
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7.25.2008
A Brighter Day
This morning Lexi decided she didn't want to stay home. At about 8 AM she sat in the middle of my bedroom floor, trying with all her dexterial might to put her sandals on. After trying her best, she looked at me and babbled in an imperative tone, "Dooooo doooo dooo!" When she's really serious, she repeats herself, "Dooooo doooo dooo!", getting louder and louder until I do what she's demanding. I was in no shape to leave the house yet, so I distracted her from her sandal task, hoping she'd forget about it.
Around 9 AM we went downstairs. As we played in the living room, she kept pointing toward the kitchen, desperately trying to communicate, "Dooooo doooo dooo! Dooooo doooo dooo!" I held her hands and let her guide me to the object of her desire: the garage door. When I informed her we would not be going out, she melted into a pile of heart-broken toddler and sobbed on the kitchen floor. I used distraction again to lead her away from the door and toward an indoor activity.
By 10 AM Lexi had found her shoes in the living room and was doing her best to cram her toes in them. Tired of her insistence, I decided a trip to Wal-Mart was in order.
I loaded Lexi up and headed to the gas station first. Lexi sat quietly in her car seat, watching me pump gas. While I was waiting, I began waving and blowing kisses to her, just to keep her mildly entertained during our stop. She smiled and waved back, but she kept cutting her eyes to the pump next to us. Then I heard an old man say, "You have a beautiful baby!" I couldn't see him because the pump was between us, but I thanked him and laughed. Then the voice continued to talk to me, telling me how happy Lexi seemed, how pretty her smile was, and how good she was being. Then, as is usually the case with older adults we run into, the man started telling me about his grandkids. He said he just couldn't get enough of them, even though the youngest one was already 12. We ended our conversation, and as we pulled away, I saw him waving to Lexi. I told her to wave back, which she did, and I could see pure joy on the old man's face.
After we filled up, we went to Wal-Mart for groceries. Lexi enjoys riding in the cart and looking at all the people. She laughs at everyone who passes us, almost always causing them to laugh back. In the check out line, the cashiers wave and talk to her. Lexi grins and laughs back to them.
It seems that almost everywhere we go Lexi engages other people and makes their day a little bit brighter. They can't help but smile and laugh as she cackles through the aisles, waving her tiny hand. That may be the only time some of these people smile that day. So it seems Lexi is in the business of Laughter Ministry. Maybe I can think of some other ways to use her personality to minister to people during the week, giving them some of God's love, and maybe even the gospel...
Around 9 AM we went downstairs. As we played in the living room, she kept pointing toward the kitchen, desperately trying to communicate, "Dooooo doooo dooo! Dooooo doooo dooo!" I held her hands and let her guide me to the object of her desire: the garage door. When I informed her we would not be going out, she melted into a pile of heart-broken toddler and sobbed on the kitchen floor. I used distraction again to lead her away from the door and toward an indoor activity.
By 10 AM Lexi had found her shoes in the living room and was doing her best to cram her toes in them. Tired of her insistence, I decided a trip to Wal-Mart was in order.
I loaded Lexi up and headed to the gas station first. Lexi sat quietly in her car seat, watching me pump gas. While I was waiting, I began waving and blowing kisses to her, just to keep her mildly entertained during our stop. She smiled and waved back, but she kept cutting her eyes to the pump next to us. Then I heard an old man say, "You have a beautiful baby!" I couldn't see him because the pump was between us, but I thanked him and laughed. Then the voice continued to talk to me, telling me how happy Lexi seemed, how pretty her smile was, and how good she was being. Then, as is usually the case with older adults we run into, the man started telling me about his grandkids. He said he just couldn't get enough of them, even though the youngest one was already 12. We ended our conversation, and as we pulled away, I saw him waving to Lexi. I told her to wave back, which she did, and I could see pure joy on the old man's face.
After we filled up, we went to Wal-Mart for groceries. Lexi enjoys riding in the cart and looking at all the people. She laughs at everyone who passes us, almost always causing them to laugh back. In the check out line, the cashiers wave and talk to her. Lexi grins and laughs back to them.
It seems that almost everywhere we go Lexi engages other people and makes their day a little bit brighter. They can't help but smile and laugh as she cackles through the aisles, waving her tiny hand. That may be the only time some of these people smile that day. So it seems Lexi is in the business of Laughter Ministry. Maybe I can think of some other ways to use her personality to minister to people during the week, giving them some of God's love, and maybe even the gospel...
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