Life talks so much these days
Our culture built on chatter
A quietness agreed upon:
treasured, a deeper bond

Joy is a nebulous thing that often resists definition. A lot boils down to joy, but joy barely can be boiled into anything else. You either have it, or you want it.

But right now I’m working on growing it.

I have been learning much (and resisting much) about how God works; we are not saved by our works, but without our works God doesn’t do much. God can do anything he pleases; but we don’t see talking donkeys very often these days. We are the bearers of his word. We are his plan. This is a baffling and frustrating concept for a recovering legalist: I have spent all this time trying to figure out how to rest, and now you’re telling me I have to get out there and do stuff for the kingdom? How am I supposed to resist falling right back into legalism?

The answer is joy. Legalism is not a response to love; it is a matter of duty. The impetus and completion of legalism (if it could ever be completed) would be self-centered satisfaction. A life lived in response to what has been done in my soul is joy.

I am not good at cultivating the bits of joy that well up. I transform them into pats on the back instead of glances at the Son. But I need to cultivate them. I need to have Christ as my greatest joy. And it doesn’t just happen, much to my sadness. We have to try to do this. I must remember to pray. I must be disciplined in the study of the Bible. But I must do all these things, hopefully, will turn into want to; and that want to means that I will receive delight (joy!) from doing these things.

There is no way to want to other than to start doing; there is no way to fall in love with a girl unless you go talk to her; there is no way to be in a band unless you start playing an instrument. These are inherently obvious to us. But I falter at the connection between doing the things of God leading to loving God. It seems that it should just well up in me, like familial affection or love of music – you know, things I just seem to have been born with. But it is not that way. I don’t know why.

I am seeking to cultivate joy. I want to do this so that I take joy in the things of God, not in crossing them off the list. Sometimes the hairs we split are the difference between life and death. And I seek life, now and in the future.

Hallelujah!

Amen.

I’m fond of writing ecstatic poems
but sometimes happy creeps in
instead of washing over
and the joy of calm of joy
(a circular logic, if there ever was one)
reaches deeper than fleeting euphoria
of endorphins, of warm bodies
of various sporting events
someday all will be right in the world
and we will know wild calm every moment
but until then we will marvel at the drops
the tiny parcels that arrive on our doorsteps
either balloons escaping or dry ice melting
(today, I hope, we are on the dry ice side)
both fleeting, we know it, but both oh so good.

It’s a strange confession for a Christian but a true one nonetheless: I’ve never figured out what Christ actually does. I know that he died on the Cross for our sins, becoming the cornerstone of our faith. I believe that no one gets to God but through him. I believe that he was God incarnate and man at the same time. Yet, after his ascension, I have no clue what he is doing. I’ve been able to clearly formulate a theology of God the Father (at least, a working one; I don’t esteem to know him completely) and the Holy Spirit (same thing), but Jesus has been a boggle. He is shooting celestial pool? Taking a divine breather? Enjoying watching the world, now that’s he done in it?

So, I prayed a lot to God the Father. I say that in the past tense because a dear friend today pointed me to Hebrews 7:25, which says this:

Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.

Oh. So that’s what Jesus does.

This is an incredible revelation to me. Jesus is talking to God the Father on our individual behalf constantly. That’s not just part of what he does, that’s what he does. He also helps sustain the world with his breath, and things of that nature, but seriously. He lives to intercede for us.

I immediately started praying to Jesus (and not just “GOD,” as I’m used to praying) for comfort and strength, which are things I need in abundance right now. I received them both in overwhelming amount. It wasn’t like a bomb hit; but a few minutes later, I just wasn’t distressed. It’s the first time I’ve seen my prayers work in months. I was ecstatic and still quite am.

I’m sure there are a far many other things that Jesus Christ does up in heaven, and I want to figure them out (time to read the whole New Testament again, this time with feeling!). But right now, knowing that he is talking to the Father right now about me is one of the most comforting things I have ever heard in my entire life. Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

Amen.