I have never done well with change, so on the heels of a major transition summer 2021 may not go down as our family’s best season. We’ve been short on laughter and lazy days and high on intensity and anxiety this June and July. But I’m looking for glimmers of goodness in this season even still.
I enjoyed this car conversation with my youngest on the way home from the grocery store yesterday:
9-year-old: When I grow up I just want two kids. I don’t think I can handle three kids.
Me: I understand your concern.
9-year-old: Well, do you think there’s a man out there who’s kind, a Christian, and who likes to talk a lot?
Me: I imagine there is.
9-year-old: Good. I just need to find him.
I don’t think we’re in any hurry to find him! But this child likes to plan ahead to more exciting days.
While my youngest is thinking about her future spouse and family, I’ve been thinking a lot about joy and how we could infuse more of it into our present days. In this season where we feel so unsettled and uncertain about how our next steps will play out, I default to either being a ball of stress or being completely numbed out and apathetic. And neither of those extremes is healthy. So I’ve been paying attention to verses and poems and thoughts on this topic of grounding ourselves in joy.
John Piper says one of the most important tactics in our fight for joy (and I think it is indeed a fight) is this:
“Learn to preach to yourself rather than listen to yourself.”
This distinction in what sort of thoughts consume my days is important, especially in seasons when the voices in my head are loud and doubtful:
But what if…
But what about…
But how will…
But when will…
There are far too many “buts” and worries for joy to survive. I have to preach loudly to myself—in the way of what I look at, listen to, and simmer on—to focus on things like Psalm 16:8:
I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me.
Or truths like these:
“It is not your grip on Jesus that keeps you secure in God’s care. To the contrary, it is Jesus’s grip on you.” —Scott Sauls
“We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.” —Henri Nouwen
Or lyrics like these that I’m trying to sing softly as I walk around a new neighborhood:
Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,
God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flow’rs before Thee,
Op’ning to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
Drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!
Listening to myself, especially at night, usually means doubting and spiraling. Preaching to myself means replacing the musings in my head and heart with better content. It means singing and saying things out loud even when my feelings don’t align with them. And it means acknowledging that there are ideas more true (and more helpful) than those things I naturally default to thinking.
So I’m telling myself today (and you as well if you can relate to battling worrisome and wayward thoughts), that left to our own devices we can’t be trusted to speak truth and reap joy. But any one of us can preach a better sermon to ourselves when we dwell more on the Word and the wise and beautiful words of others who keep pointing us back toward the light.
It’s a fight and a choice, but there is joy to be seen and seized—even in the midst of change!
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