How to Find True Joy

I sat there with my arms folded over my stomach–as the ache swelled and lulled–as my heart beat furiously within my chest. And all I could think, while my body was bending and breaking, was this: The joy of the Lord is my strength.

Now maybe you are reading this and thinking, “Boy, that Margaret sure is full of crap. I mean, seriously. Who could possibly think about joy in such a moment of pain and desperation. She should be full of curses. She should curse a god who would allow her to suffer like that.” But the thing is, I keep thinking about Job and his boils, and how even in the midst of the worst suffering of his life, he did not curse God. He questioned him, sure. Who wouldn’t? But he didn’t curse him. And that is important.

Anguish is real. The sense of losing hope is real. Pain is real. And sometimes we have this idea that God watches in blissful oblivion while we ache and moan. Andrew Peterson has a beautiful song called, “The Silence of God.” He says, “It’s enough to drive a man crazy, it’ll break a man’s faith. It’s enough to make him wonder if he’s ever been sane.” And I have felt that “crazy” so many times. The lines from the strain of it etch my face. And if I let myself get lost in that emotion–if I go swimming in the depths of my pain–all I will ever find is more pain. Because when I search myself for relief, I may as well be digging a hole to China.

This week has been a great big bundle of hard. Physical pain. Emotional pain. And a stint in a traffic jam(when the highway got shut down) that had me in a panic free-fall(there are no toilets on the highway!) And then there is the anxiety that wakes me up at night, where my heart won’t stop racing and it feels like it’s going to pop out of my chest and start dancing to Harry Belafonte’s “Jump in the Line.” And the thing is, I really LOVE that song. And I want to jump in the line! But not at 2:00am. I like to reserve my heart palpitations for running and meaningful glances at my husband.

So how did I get across the bridge from anguish to joy? Because I’ll be honest, it’s kind of a scary bridge. It’s one of those rope bridges with a few boards missing. And the boards I can see look spongy, as if one footfall is going to send me plunging into the gaping river below. And yes, there are crocodiles down there. I see their teeth. And they are smacking their lips at me. So yeah, that bridge is pretty daunting.

Yesterday morning I made a pretty simple decision to read 5 paragraphs in my devotional book. And I didn’t want to. Because sometimes reading about God feels empty. Like, okay, I get it. He loves me. Blah, blah, blah… And I don’t read my devotions every day because of this. And you know what? Today I’m glad I don’t. Because if I did, I wouldn’t have read these words by Edward Welch from February 21st.

“When we suffer what seems like endless pain, it is hard to believe that God loves us, but Jesus’suffering proves that it can be true. Second, “he who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all–how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?”(Romans 8:32) {like joy!!}

And some days this just feels like a whole lot of God talk, but yesterday it felt like a walnut shell cracking and a little green sprout poking out. Because I read in those words the hope of my salvation. The love of my life, nailed to a cross, with my name on his lips. He suffered pain and anguish–worse than what I am experiencing now–to ensure that I would never be alone when I experience mine.

“For I know that my redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold him, and not another. My heart faints within me!” -Job 19:25-27

Joy is so much different from happiness. It’s the difference between a splash of euphoria and the slow, steady burn of abiding peace. The peace of God truly does transcend physical pain. I know this because yesterday I felt it. And it was like a great big hug from a friend I haven’t seen in 20 years, only better–sweeter somehow. Jesus hugs my soul. And I have never experienced anything like it outside of him.

Today I feel really good. That is how life works sometimes. One day pain. The next day relief. And I’m sitting here in my workout gear because when I type the last period, I am off to take in the sunshine with a nice walk/jog/hobble. And today I don’t mind the funny looks I get from the “professional” runners. They have perfect form and perfect muscle tone and their bellies don’t jiggle like mine does. But today my pain is less. And I have Jesus in my heart. And His resounding peace echoes through my broken frame like a cheerful whistle in the empty chambers of a dark and lonely cave. Somehow that whistle makes the cold and damp bearable. And so I follow it. That’s what joy is for me, plain and simple.

So today if you are in the trenches of pain and suffering, don’t despair. Cry out to the One who suffered. He is there. He knows you are suffering. And He wants to give you joy.