This is the third week in my Advent series. Advent is an ancient Christian tradition, celebrating this season of preparation and an anticipation for the birth of Christ. Many churches light one candle each Sunday on the four weeks leading up to Christmas. I'm following that pattern, with the themes of hope, peace, joy and love.
joy
"But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating; for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy, and its people as a delight." -- Isaiah 65:18
I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. --Philippians 4:12
Joy is a delight in life that runs deeper than pain or pleasure.
I remember hearing these words from one of my dad's sermons a few years ago, and it's really stuck with me. My joy is often rooted in my location. I grew up in Portland, a beautiful, fun and quirky place that is really unlike any other that I've been to. We drive 55 mph on the freeway, we have killer parks (which my best friend's dad is now in charge of, side note) and the best, most smooth, foamy, beautiful latte you've ever had on the corner of 28th and Ankeny. Even now as I type, my heart aches for that place, because it's filled with so many memories, and because I know the city and I feel like the city knows me. It's about comfort really. I am familiar there, I'm understood. It's where my family is, it's where I was shaped, it's where I'm rooted. And roots are important, but so is growth.
So, with my joy rooted in a city I loved, I packed up and moved to San Diego for college, 1,000 miles away. And naturally, I was homesick. Terribly homesick. I cried weekly (if not daily) for an entire year over a decision that was entirely my own. And my sweet mom listened to endless phone calls, endless complaints about San Diego (I know what you're thinking, how can you complain about San Diego? I promise, it can be done), and her response was always the same: Choose joy. Choose joy.
But, I didn't really want to choose joy, because I was more comfortable thinking about where I wasn't than where I was. I didn't want to do the hard work of getting involved in a community in San Diego, because it was easier to be sad about not being in Portland. And while I had wonderful, fabulous years in college, I wish I had done more during that first year. I wish I had learned to choose joy by acknowledging my roots, but also opening myself up for growth. I guess I'm a slow learner.
Fast forward a few years, and I'm now in a small town in West Texas. And somehow, even though there's no ocean, no fabulous coffee shop, no running trails and no curbside recycling pickup, I have joy here. And more joy than I've ever had. Because I know that my roots are in Portland, but my growth is now. And now is West Texas. I don't want to waste my time crying over what isn't when I could be acknowledging the fabulous things that God has blessed us with.
There are certainly times when I really wish that we could just have a dishwasher for a day. Or where I'd give anything just to walk into a Winco and pick up a box of Wheat Thins for cheap (never thought I'd say that, but crackers are steeply priced here). But I wouldn't trade my joy for a dishwasher or Wheat Thins, because I know what it's like to have my joy rooted in something other than Christ, and it doesn't work. Because inevitably, at one point or another, that thing will run out, and you'll be left looking back at what you had with sadness, rather than thanking God for what you have with joy.
We joyfully praise you, O Lord, for the fulfillment of your promise of a Savior and what that means in our lives. Thank you for the gift of salvation through the birth of your son, Jesus. Create us anew as we wait, and help us to see your glory as you fill our lives with your living Spirit. Amen.
xoxo.
