On Fighting For Your Joy
I have lived most of my life seeing it as a tremendously beautiful gift. I delight in finding joy in simple pleasures. Call it frugality or creativity; it is something I have grown to love about myself. The practice of gratitude was a discipline I fought for years ago, in a season of longing and surrender. In my grounding and discovering, I have learned that joy and gratitude are not mutually exclusive. And when my focus is on everything but the goodness of Jesus, like Peter who ventures out onto the waves, I begin to sink. I forget that even in seasons of trial, when all I have is the promise of Christ to carry me through, it is enough. I forget that in His presence is fullness of joy, and I find myself grasping at every man-made life raft I can to stay afloat. So many times my goal has been merely to keep my head above water when I was created to walk on top of it.
I am so quick to surrender my joy because if I’m being honest, it feels frivolous and self-serving. Who has time to pursue joy when so much pain exists in the world or when I’m wearing a million different hats on any given day? But if joy is a by-product of time spent in the presence of God, then it is the testimony Christ writes on the hearts of His children. Joy is the thing that separates us from the rest of the world—it is the invitation we carry into a better way of living.
So many times my goal has been merely to keep my head above water when I was created to walk on top of it.
Having spent a good chunk of this year in various states of anxiety and exhaustion, I told my husband that I feel like I am losing my joy in the day to day. Between constant meltdowns from my passionate toddler to never-ending waves of sickness wafting through our home, I have been operating from an almost exclusively empty cup. (I now know how my little red Volkswagen felt back in Highschool when I would only put in four dollars of gas at a time.)
If you have found yourself in a similar season and, like me, joy was the first thing to go, this is my urge to reclaim it. You may not think joy feels like a useful tool when survival is the goal, but the first lie you have believed is that survival is the goal. Jesus tells us that He has come so that we may have an abundant life. Not a frivolous life. Or a care-free life. But unmistakably a life brimming with purpose and joy and gratitude to the One who gives so freely. And if we can fight to maintain joy even in seasons of heartache and uncertainty, there is truly nothing the enemy can take from us.
I’m still learning what it looks like to fight for joy when it doesn’t come easy. But I think it begins with recognizing the lie(s) that I am currently believing. If joy is a fruit of the spirit, I have to ask where I have cut myself off from the Vine. I am learning that toxicity begins with my mind and if I can train myself to take captive every thought and replace it with truth, I have already won the battle.
I am also striving to slow down and take notice of the good things that surround me. The trees outside my window that seemed to have blossomed overnight. Warm weather mornings spent exploring the backyard with River or walking him to the square in his stroller. Thursday evenings with Matt, sharing a pint of ice cream and catching up on our day. And on a more microscopic scale, taking time to notice the vibrantly orange monarch butterfly on my windowsill or the family of red cardinals living in our crape myrtle. A thousand things cross my path each and every day, still I have the audacity to believe that this day has nothing new to offer me.
So here I sit, still grappling with what it means to pursue joy. Still a little bit uncertain and timid to jump in fully. But I can feel new hope flow through my veins when I remind myself that joy not only matters to God, He commands it. And He not only commands it, He offers it freely to all who abide in Him.
We were made for more than simply staying afloat.