JOY

I have always had a thing for Joy. Like some kind of raucous romantic relationship where I chase it, lose it, understand it, become confounded by it, desire it with all of my being, and carelessly toss it aside in order to wallow in whatever version of selflessness appeals to me more.
There's just something so pure and lovely and un-human about Joy.
It's not an emotion. It's different from happiness. It's more than a state of mind or heart, it's a state of spirit, which are of course the hardest kind to understand. that is until you let the One who lives in your spirit explain it to you.

I learned a lot about Joy when I was in Nepal from my dear friend Meera, whose incredible story taught me of unfathomable faithfulness to God, of wisdom far above my level of comprehension, of pure and selfless service. But Meera really just exudes Joy in her faithfulness, in her wisdom, in her service, even in the way she speaks of her horrific past. She is Joy personified. More than anyone I have ever seen and maybe will ever see.
And that impacted me. greatly.
Joy became even more inportant to me after seeing it in its pure form in Meera, and I sort of claimed it as mine, as my word, my thing. I wanted to be known for Joy, to learn how to truly have it at all times, how to not confuse it with emotions, for my life as a whole to be marked by Joy in the Truth, Love, and Freedom of Christ.
And maybe I did for a while.
And then that raucous romance kicked in and Joy and I weren't really speaking for a while.
I spoke to God some, loved Jesus some, listened to the Spirit some.
but I forgot about Joy.

I realized last night that I missed praying. I hadn't stopped praying entrely, but I had forgotten how to live prayer. There have been times that there weren't times of prayer and not prayer, but my life was a prayer, my every breath was communication with God. And I was longing for that. And I was longing for Joy.
So I wrote God a letter. Just talked to him like my big brother or my boyfriend or the mysterious Thing within me. And they all talked too.
And I remebered how deeply and perfectly he loves me and how inconsistant and childish I am.
He showed me his goodness again. In Spanish, you would say "de nuevo." I really like that. of new. It's not like he isn't always showing me his goodness, but he did of "of new".
And JOY. of new.
more than an emotion or a feeling or a tear or a smile. the good kind. the kind that blossoms like a precious lily after a rain storm and fills the air with that sweet sweet aura and gets that crazy orange pollen all over everything. the kind that is like an uncontrollable and beautiful dance made even more beautiful by the toes stubbed from clumsiness and the ungraceful turns that result in falling into a laughing heap on the ground.
And now I want to chase it, hold it, and learn it more than ever. I still want my life to be marked by Joy. and it can be because I am first marked by the Blood.

So if you are reading this, pray. Write a letter. Breathe. Ask God to show you a glimpse of Joy. I want to share her with you. and then tell me about your Joy. She'll be different from mine, but I want to hear about her in your life. Leave a comment, facebook, email, or skype me and tell me about Joy in your life.

with Love and Joy of new,
Molly