choose rejoicing

Some time ago, I was startled to see a wide girth of flames quickly consuming the stretch of weedy field grass that separates our lawn from the woods.

“What in the world…!” I yelled out the window to the big boys, who were standing calmly nearby, hoses in hand. Grinning back at me they called back, “This is more effective than mowing!”

Life has a tendency to emulate landscape. We build our little piece of real estate with our goals, ambitions, ministries, personalities, families, investments. As we follow the Lord, He adorns the place with evidences of Himself, working in us details that make us lovely to Him and shine His light to others.

Enter in the natural disasters. They are inevitable, as we live in a fallen world. Yet humans have a certain tenacity to endure hardships. And Christ-followers are given God’s gift of grace.

The “tornado” takes out a part of the landscape? There are still joy flowers growing over here. An “earthquake” decimates the beloved structures? There are still joy flowers growing over there. Even the occasional irritations…the deer that wander through and take what they will, do not deplete all the joy flowers of the heart.

Observers view the aftermath of a trial and some might marvel “How do those lovely joy flowers keep growing after such a destructive disaster?”

And firmly the reply is given “Because my joy is in the Lord and He is the Source of Joy!”

But…

then comes a fire.

Fire is an interesting creation. It has both uses and abuses. It is capable of natural benefit or natural disaster. And of all natural disasters, it holds a rank of its own. It is one of few elements capable of completely obliterating. Earthquakes, tornados, floods, hurricanes…they all leave some degree of wreckage—some evidence of what was, albeit in chaotic pieces.

Give fire its freedom and all that remains is…ash.

Or does it?

I have been perusing my own heart-scape in these past months. Sixteen months ago, certain flames began licking at the edge of my heart’s property, occasionally coming in at random places to cause damage. I was on high alert, seeking help from the great Firefighter…Who also doubles as my Gardener. Many small fires were extinguished, leaving blackened stubble.

“It’s okay,” He would say. “I am here and I am keeping your joy flowers alive and blooming.”

Ten months ago, something more drastic occurred. With a gentle hand on my shoulder, my Firefighter whispered “Trust Me,” and led me to the edge of my familiar heart-scape and together, side by side, we watched the fire sweep across the land, unchecked. A terrifying, horrific sight, the flames consumed trees, structures, gardens…life.

It was only then that He took action and put the fire out…and I remained in utter silence, paralyzed, unsure of what to do. He then quietly came to sit beside me and together, we took in the new view.

Initially, all I saw was emptiness. The beauty of all that had covered my heart and life had suddenly disappeared into a land of smoldering ash.

At first, I could hardly touch it. Then, came the day that I took a step into it. And another. And another. I glanced at my Firefighter and barely noticed that He had changed into His gardening clothes. He smiled reassuringly.

Time passed.

“Where are your joy flowers?” I was startled one day by a passerby. “This place used to have a bunch of them. Don’t you think they should be growing again by now?”

I looked around me at what I already knew: there was not a joy flower to be seen. I hung my head guiltily. Where was my joy? It had never disappeared before…every other trial was laced with its evidence. I had no answer.

One day, I bent down and picked up a handful of darkened soil and let it fall through my fingers. It is here that I finally noticed.

There were joy seeds in the ashen earth.

I caught my Gardener’s eye. He smiled.

Fingering the joy seeds, I let them slip back down to the ground and I covered them over. I glanced upward again and He nodded.

I am perplexed by joy. It is difficult to describe; it is challenging to define.

Joy is a Fruit of the Spirit. It is a gift, given freely to all that are in Christ. It is not, as the popular catch-phrase suggests, something that can be chosen. Cheerfulness and good attitudes are a choice. But not joy. In fact “choose joy” is not found in the Bible. We can no sooner command joy to appear as we can command flowers to grow.

Joy is a seed—a source—from which outward evidences find their root. Sometimes, the joy seed blossoms into smiles, laughter and dancing. At other times, when fires have swept across the heart, the joy seeds nestle into the soul, manifesting only as quiet endurance—as though nodding toward Christ’s example in fiery suffering— awaiting the time when they will once again color the outside world. (See Hebrews 12:2)

This is joy: a gift, a seed. Joy never goes away; it is never lost. It need never be chosen. It only needs to be received. It only needs to be grown.

But the method in which joy is grown…this is what requires a decision. This is what we are commanded to choose.

We are commanded to

Choose Rejoicing!

“Rejoice in the Lord...I say it again, Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4). Rejoice that He is Saviour. Rejoice that He is King. Rejoice that He is ever-present and unchanging. Rejoice that He never leaves. Rejoice that He offers us His salvation. Rejoice that no fire can ever remove Him as the Source of Joy!

Choose Rejoicing!

Rejoice that He is the Centerpiece of rejoicing! We don’t rejoice simply to rejoice. We rejoice in Him! We rejoice in His comfort! We rejoice in His worthiness! We rejoice in His love! We rejoice in His unwavering hope: the best is yet to come!

Choose Rejoicing!

There is much in my life that has changed. But I am still a child of God. This is unchanged. And as His child, I trust that His joy has never left me. The joy flowers of yesterday have sown their seeds and the fires of sorrow have enriched the soil in which they wait. And as they wait, they nourish my soul with quiet endurance—the unmistakable evidence of their presence.

Every day, I endeavor to rejoice in the Lord. And every day, my Gardener is at work. He faithfully sends His loving-kindness as sunshine. His voice is that of “many waters,” raining down to nourish the parched ground of my heart and sprout the joy seeds into flowers.

Sometimes, I am surprised by a lone bloom that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Every now and then, a passerby bends to pluck flowers from the edge of the land—flowers I hadn’t known were there.

And so it will continue. Little by little, the joy flowers will return. They will not replace what the fire took, but with the Gardener’s help, they will once again be the delights that bring Him praise and glory, and perhaps, be more luscious than before.

When the flames beyond our yard were gone, the boys’ mission was accomplished: the ground was black and bare. There were satisfactory smiles all around. But had one of them stooped to finger the ashes, he might have discovered the hidden secret. The seeds.

The sun has shined, the rain has fallen, and if you visit our yard today, you would notice an unusually full, abundant and towering crop of field grasses and wildflowers growing where once there was but burnt emptiness. And if you dig below the lush growth, you will find it fed by ashes.

“Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, you righteous!” (Psalm 32:11)