Is That Really Necessary God?

Yesterday I caught a few sweet moments of peace, as the boys napped simultaneously in their cribs for a full thirty minutes. It wasn’t much, but the bliss of silence calmed my heart almost instantly. I crawled into my bed, pulling the white down comforter up close, as the fall sun shone through the room, softly illuminating the shadows while the brightness of the changing leaves danced before my window. Those few quiet moments left alone with my thoughts felt glorious, even restorative.

As I closed my eyes, I began to think about the word joy. What if joy were like an arrow? The thought caught me off guard, as I’ve always seen joy as an “extra” in my Christian walk. What I REALLY needed was for God to get me through. To help me endure the really hard things. If he sent joy too, great! But I guess I’d always seen joy as one of those flashy (potentially annoying to others) accessories you sometimes put on once you’ve already picked out your outfit. It wasn’t necessary or even all that helpful aside from an emotional boost here or there or the occasional warm and fuzzy feeling. Joy was something adorned by those more expressive and free with their emotions. But was it helpful?

Perhaps the haze of twin parenting had caught up with me. The boys will be nine months this week and still aren’t sleeping through the night. The fatigue I had so hoped to circumvent has caught up to me. And then some. And with it has followed cruel and unrelenting lupus. Burning rashes have made their way back to my hands that have begun to ache, and sores have found their way back into my mouth. My hair hasn’t stopped thinning since I delivered the boys, and I’m now clearly beyond the time frame for postpartum hair loss. My prednisone dose continues to rise and with that so also the scale. Moreover, the chemo I received two months ago has done nothing to abate my stirring disease.

Things seemed to be heading in the wrong direction again. Why would I care about something so seemingly trivial as joy?

In the book of Nehemiah, the governor at the time (Nehemiah), tells the people not to grieve but to be encouraged, “for the joy of the Lord will be your strength” (Neh 8:10). Anyone who has spent any time in Christian circles has likely heard this verse. On repeat. Seen (and potentially even bought) the bumper sticker. But if we’re being honest, I’ve always secretly cringed at this verse. (Yes, I have a long way to go.) It has always felt so superfluous and intangible. How would being giddy help me? How would flitting about make my lupus any better? How would it make me a better mom or wife?

But maybe, joy had a different definition. One not so dependent on mood swings or personality types. I feared joy to be fleeting, easily turning sour at the next bump in the road.

And I had known too many bumps.

Sure, I had heard the adage that “joy is not about our emotions”, but what does that even mean? By taking away the emotional aspect, I found the term to be even more vague and elusive.

The Hebrew dictionary defines joy as “blithesomeness, glee or exceeding gladness”.

Exceeding gladness. I could use some of that in my life.

See, joy, I believe God has been showing me, is a posture of the heart.

“The joy of the Lord will be my strength” (emphasis mine).

And where there is strength, there is power.

Romans 15:13 says, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope. “

With his power comes hope.

Hope was something I could hang onto.

What if his joy really was like an arrow? What if joy, rather than being swayed by emotion, was actually a powerful force used by God to target and destroy things like hopelessness? What if it was a heavenly weapon used to shoot holes in the depression in our lives? What if it was a gift used to pierce the lie that “things will never get better”? What if it was a fiery missile used to annihilate the lie that we “are all alone”?

In 1 Thessalonians, Paul writes to the church saying, “you received the word in much affliction, with the joy of the Holy Spirit”.

Even with affliction there can be joy.

Even with chronic illness there can be joy.

Even with loss there can be joy.

In God’s turned upside-down kingdom where the small will be great and the weak are the strong, his joy is found in abundance. And so, I will sing with joy every day that I am alive. Because he is faithful when I am faithless. Because he is fighting for me beyond what I can see. And because he is speaking to my heart in a million little ways if I would just quiet my mind and my heart long enough to listen.

*Breathe in: Merciful Father,

Breathe out: Send strength.

Breathe in: My Provider,

Breathe out: Send peace.

Breathe in: Gracious Holy Spirit,

Breathe out: Send JOY.

~“In his presence there is fullness of joy.” Psalm 16:11~

*Prayer style adopted from “Loving My Actual Life”.

Honest Talk

 

The boys will be eight months next week. And if we’re being honest I have tried and failed *many* times in working toward a healthy eating and exercise plan since their birth. It has taken all the energy I have and then some to get to this point. And while I couldn’t be more thankful for my precious boys, I recognize my own need to live more graciously not only toward others- but even more so, toward myself.

I find myself struggling through a minor flare, requiring more prednisone and watching the scale move in the opposite direction. My inner voice reels with shame as I watch the numbers rise. And while my rational mind knows there are some things I just *cannot* control, I find myself too often affected by it all. Is it possible that God is showing me through my own struggle that I am *still* not in control? That perhaps I still haven’t quite grasped the lesson? Cough...previously, refused the lesson...#honesttalk

I *often* wonder if this apparent roadblock was put here for good. I cringe as I write these words knowing just how many times I have stubbornly crashed into said roadblock headfirst. Willpower! Determination! That was I all I needed to succeed, I felt. The thing is I had all the determination in the world. But my body. It had other plans. I have learned that this body of mine is intolerant to most diets and all forms of extreme exercise. I realize this may not be a big deal to most, but for a former college athlete who has found therapy and release and even *joy* in exercise most of her life, it comes as a frustrating loss.

Despite my best efforts the majority of diets I have tried have landed me in a flare- leading to more prednisone- leading to more weight gain. It’s been an exhausting cycle of disappointment and despair. But this morning I was reminded of a God who takes that which was meant for evil and uses it for *our* good. Could that be the case here? Could he be working an eternal weight of glory in me, if I CHOOSE to let him? Oh how many times I have chosen myself instead.

Maybe sharpening me on the inside is what actually counts. Maybe this wall I keep hitting, preventing me from any “progress” is a blessing. A blessing with regard to eternity. Because maybe this sharpening, this friction is something that will bring me closer to him and a little less focused on myself. Maybe the fit moms in heaven will be the ones who look a little worn and soft here on earth. Maybe they’ll be the ones a little less concerned with selfies and six packs and perhaps a little more concerned with *allowing* themselves to be inwardly sharpened, no matter how painful it may be.

I’m praying today that as I move toward a healthier beginning my internal self would shine a little brighter regardless of what happens on the outside.

Be reminded today that he really does redeem ALL things for good.

If we let him.

#momthoughts #lupus #honesttalk