raw joy

The air chilled around me as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Any minute now, he would call, and we would explore what it was that had been building between us. I had been so expectant, but now that the moment was here, it felt leaden, ominous. This would be good, wouldn’t it? A future and a hope?

God, You said You’d go before us; prepare our words, prepare our hearts …

I willed myself not to shiver as my phone began to ring.

raising the stakes

I never would have attempted a road trip across multiple state lines on such short notice if he hadn’t hinted my presence would be welcome. I may have fantasized about showing up on his doorstep on a whim, but the courage needed to carry out such a wild scheme was entirely out of character. But then my school closed unexpectedly for adverse weather conditions, extending an already long weekend just enough to make it feasible. By the time a dear friend in another state offered her home as a midway stopping point, I was more than ready to pack in a giddy rush and leave town, anxious to beat the winter storm out of the area.

Maybe I was a bit braver—or more reckless—than I thought. Once I arrived, flushed with spontaneity and ready for anything, the weekend took on a surreal quality. The two of us explored serene nature trails, historical sites, and quaint local eateries through an ongoing stream of lively banter and deep discussions. Even the occasional tense moment seemed only to underline the growing significance of our communion.

Once I was back home again, the conversation continued. My surprise visit had upped the ante, he acknowledged, and we should talk soon about our feelings and where this was headed. He apologized that his intense schedule would prevent us from immediately diving in, but he promised to call as soon as he could make it work.

Some days later, my phone began to ring …

the risk …

I started putting this story down on paper the day before his call came in. All was rosy, and I was eager to capture my revelation about how worth it it is to step out into the unknown, believing that God will be faithful to catch us on the way down. I’ve always been a bit leery of hope, I would admit; I’ve met with so many disappointments. But sometimes, God desires to bless us wildly, and the only way we can receive the fullness of that joy is to get out of our own way and take the risk.

And then, the storyline shifted …

You don’t need all the gritty details from that phone call; the words with the greatest bearing on this story are these: “I think you are a beautiful, godly woman,” he said. “I’m so glad we had this time together. I will miss your insights and your encouragement; you have a way of knowing exactly what I need. But you’re just not the one for me.” 

Just.

Not.

the One.

Ohhhh …

… and the reward

As the Lord has patched up my heart and restored my equilibrium, I’ve discovered something surprising. It turns out the words I wrote before everything went sideways still hold true.

God has been drawing out this tentative wallflower girl to take the risk, to live fully, and to find the sweet reward. After all, Jesus knows—far better than I do!—what is good for me, and He longs to delight me in spite of myself. Even in the hardest, darkest places, joy abounds. Our sorrows do not discount joy; joy transforms them.

I remember looking a bit askance at those words as the ink dried on the page. Why was I writing about sorrow and hard, dark places when I anticipated great things ahead? The answer winks back at me now: After all, Jesus knows—far better than I do!—what is good for me, and He longs to delight me in spite of myself. He longs to remind me how faithful He has been to go ahead of me, to prepare the way—even the hard way—so that I can always find joy on the other side.

the joy set before us

There are far more devastating experiences of pain and heartbreak than the one I’ve just described. It seems almost too flimsy a vehicle to support this vital message, but stay with me. You see, what I realized through this uncomfortable episode was that if joy isn’t real, if God isn’t good, here—in the midst of heartache and disappointment—then those truths won’t hold weight anywhere. If there’s no joy waiting for us in the dark, then how can we bear the weight … or the wait?

This, I believe, is the raw edge of joy. It’s a microcosm of what the author of Hebrews sought to communicate when he said of Jesus: “for the joy set before Him [He] endured the cross” (see Hebrews 12:2 NASB). He endured—not blissfully ignorant, or naively unaware, but He counted the cost of His suffering upon the cross and found it worthy to undergo—because of the joy that would result.

Through the shadow of the cross, Jesus witnessed the sunlight of resurrection. Through the pain of separation, He foresaw the glory of reconciliation—both His own with His Father and that of all creation with our Creator. Through the ignominy of perceived defeat, He recognized the reality of eternal victory. He rightly scorned all shame associated with this humiliating death and rose up in triumph to sit at the right hand of His Father in heaven. Joy was waiting! And joy was in the waiting.

look to Jesus

My friend, we are given the grace to do the same. In our every trial and disappointment—be it earth-shattering or merely inconvenient—we are exhorted to look to Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, and do just as He did. By the power of the Spirit, we, too, are enabled to “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And … run with perseverance the race marked out for us” (see Heb. 12:1-2). 

Sometimes, joy doesn’t look like rejoicing. It may feel startling, or undesirable; its rough edges may scrape our fragile skin as we brush up against it. But when we begin to recognize joy in the raw places of our grief and disillusionment, we are convinced anew that God is good, that faith is real. When we see that there is hope ahead, that we haven’t been abandoned in the midst of an unfinished story, this is our joy.

So hang onto this truth, Beloved, when the winds blow untamed and the path twists in front of you. Yes, there may be suffering and pain where the road bends, but the Light will always come through, and the Way will always lead you through, and yes—even here—there is joy set before you.