I am one of those people who chooses a word for the year. The word usually reveals itself through prayer and the themes the Holy Spirit keeps recalling as I attempt to grow in my faith.
In 2020, my word of the year was JOY. I thought to myself, this is going to be easy! And fun! The year of joy!
And then, 2020 happened. I live in Seattle, where the first wave of the pandemic hit.
I was in the car on errands when I heard the news that we would be going into lockdown for the next two weeks. I pulled over and texted a friend in state government.
“Does this mean I should go to Costco and load up?”
He texted back, “I think that would be a good idea.”
The normally raucous Costco was quiet. I moved silently among hundreds of shoppers filling their carts with meat and canned goods and toilet paper. Fear overwhelmed me as I gripped the cart handle.
“Where are You?” I prayed.
It didn’t take long. I found Him present in the eyes of a little girl. She sat in the front of a cart, in one of the double infant seats. Her doll sat in the seat next to her. Shoppers were tense and frantic, but she sat there with her doll, brushing its hair and holding its hand, like the calm within the storm.
Without thinking, I broke the silence around me and burst into laughter. I laughed at the absurdity of it all. The little girl saw me smile and smiled back, oblivious to the panic around.
In my heart I heard, “Do you think this surprises Me? This is nothing new. Keep your eyes on Me.”
In the days that followed, it was difficult to find my footing. I began to think perhaps I was mistaken, the Holy Spirit hadn’t truly prompted me to reflect on joy… in all this. Maybe God was wrong. All the markers in my daily routine connections, and institutions were gone. I found myself waking in a panic in the dark hours of the morning before the day had even begun.
“Where are You in this?” I prayed again one morning a few days later. I did not want to get out of bed, but I also couldn’t return to sleep.
I heard, “Go to the water.”
Lake Washington, a mammoth thirtyplussquaremile lake, is a fifteenminute walk from my house. I pulled on some joggers and sneakers and started out to the lake. In my soul, I was daring God to show up. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was as if I were telling God,
“You better show up! Everything is a mess. And now You got me out of bed. Just do something!”
The sky was still steely blue when I arrived at the lake. I watched a man make his way down to the dock with a flashlight and a fishing pole. A pair of geese walked by with five goslings in tow.
“This is pleasant,” I thought, “but still not good enough to get out of bed. Not enough to fix the world.”
I looked across the lake to the city of Bellevue, ten miles away. Its skyscrapers were still lit for the night. Behind the city stood the Cascade Mountain Range, solid and constant. The mountains seemed illuminated by the snow still draped upon them.
Then I noticed the light around me had changed. Steely blue turned to indigo purple, then azure, and as the sun peeked over the mountains, streams of pink poured across the sky. When the sun reached its crest over the mountains, orange met pink radiating against whipped-cream clouds. I understood the meaning of the word breathtaking, for I could not breathe.
I looked across the panorama before me and understood: This is what God does each day. He’s done it for centuries, millennia. He is still in charge.
- The sun will still rise each morning.
The psalmist sings,
Who stilled the roaring of the seas,
the roaring of their waves
and the turmoil of the nations
The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders;
where morning dawns, where evening fades,
You call forth songs of joy. — Psalm 65:8
And me? I am to notice. I am to look for goodness and beauty and joy in the world. Instead of looking to media or the news, society or my community, I am to keep my eyes on Jesus. I am to look for where He is revealing Himself in moments of joy, even in mundane moments like naps and food and in the big ones, the magnificent moments like the joy of letting Him love you.
Joy is God, there, working and moving in the midst of our broken world. To see it, when others choose not to, when others cling to fear or even evil — that is an act of defiance.
In the years that followed, I understood just a glimpse of what James wrote when he said,
Whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy. — James 1:2
I learned that if we choose, trials do bring us closer to Jesus and that joy is where He is found.
But this is not my task only. It is the call to all who know Him. We show that we believe and that we belong to God by our joy. Joy is a fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22). Joy is a result of knowing Him. And as Jesus told us,
No one can take your joy from you. — John 16:22
Invitation: Look for the places where God is breaking through the veil to reveal Himself to you in joy.
Prayer
Lord Jesus, You are the source of all that is good. You are the source of real joy. Not just happiness that is dependent on our circumstances but joy that is transcendent. Joy comes from a place outside of ourselves, You. May we know You better. May we experience Your joy — everywhere.
Written for Devotionals Daily by Shemaiah Gonzalez, author of Undaunted Joy.
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Your Turn
Has your joy gone silent? Is crisis, or illness, or difficulty sapping your joy? Lean on Jesus. Get closer to Him. He’s your source of joy! ~ Devotionals Daily