Category: joy

Three French Words

On the third day of Christmas, my True Love gave to me
three French words: Joie de vivre!
 
  
You will show me the way of life,
granting me the joy of your presence
and the pleasures of living with you forever.
(Psalm 16:11 NLT)
 
 
Today finds me curled up on the couch, nursing a cold. Not feeling much joie de vivre. The common cold doesn’t provide much joy of living. But joy doesn’t always means happiness or health. I accepted my cold (which I am thankful came now, instead of last weekend). I settled into reading and then watching some films that I had on my Christmas wish list.
 
I watched The Nativity, which I hadn’t viewed in a long time. The setting and narrative action gives the sense of being there. The writer of the screenplay opens with Herod’s edict to kill all children under the age of two. A horrific portrait of power mongering fueled by pride and paranoia.
 
This tragedy is juxtaposed with scenes leading up to the birth of Jesus. The action takes place with hints of the gospel parables. Vineyards, wind blowing the leaves, figs and grapes and wheat harvest. Chaff blowing in the wind.
 
And the people of the story. Elizabeth and Zechariah stunned by the joy of a son in their old age. Mary scared, but willing to believe the impossible. Joseph who wavers with his own fears, but believes the good news of the angel.
 
“A son will be born to her, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21 NLT)
 
 
This is the real joy. The joy of God’s salvation. This is cause for joie de vivre!
 
 

Posted on by kelrohlf 4

The Land of Uz

 
“Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they shall see God.”
 (Matthew 5:8 ESV)
 
 

When I read the opening words of Job’s story, I hear a faint echo of “Once Upon a Time . . .”

“There was a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job, and that man was blameless and upright one who feared God and turned away from evil.” (Job 1:1 ESV)

The narrative continues with exposition, revealing the details of Job’s family, possessions, stature in the community and daily routines, including his religious practices.

And then the scene shifts with cinematic flair, we are ushered into a heavenly scene. The curtain is pulled back and the audience is given information that informs the reader, but as far as we know is withheld from the characters in the unfolding drama. It’s as if the author (ultimately God) knew that the impending misery would be too hard for the reader to bear. We needed a glimpse backstage to see how this tragedy unfolds under the sovereign care of the Creator.

That scene fades. In the next scene, we observe Job going about his usual business. Then wave after wave of tragic news arrives through servant messengers. Job tears his robes, shaves his head and he worships. He mourns, yet he does not sin.

Satan, the behind the scenes agent of misery and death, approaches Job’s Creator again. Satan’s intent is to see Job curse God. God says, my Job, he’s up to the test. Send the physical pain, but spare his life.
 
Satan takes his cue and gladly strikes Job with “loathsome sores from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head.” (Job 2:7 ESV) Job sits down in his misery and starts scraping at the sores with a piece of broken pottery. His wife comes to console him, “Curse God and die.” Job answers with integrity, “Foolish woman! Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” (Job 2:9-10 ESV) Again Job maintains his cool. He does not sin with his words.

Three friends from surrounding villages hear of Job’s calamity, and come to comfort him. They sit in silence with him for seven days and seven nights. Job laments. He curses the day of his birth: “Behold, let that night be barren; let no joyful cry enter it.” (Job 3:7 ESV).
 
What a contrast to the birth we recall in Bethlehem, but that’s for later. Joy will come in the morning, even as a child is born unto us in Bethlehem.
 
Although the word, joy, is recorded in the book of Job several times in the NIV, most of the time Job mentions it sarcastically or his friends misapply the concept. It’s not until Job meets his Maker, that a deeper joy, marked by humility and wonder enters the scene.

(Come back tomorrow, and we’ll see how the story ends. Will they live happily ever after? How will joy be restored?)
Posted on by kelrohlf 0

Silence: Absence of Mention

When Job’s three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.  Job 2:11-13 NIV
 


Silence. No words. No explanations. No answers. Just troubles multiplied upon troubles. Nothing to be said. Nothing to be heard. For seven days and seven nights. For four hundred years. For nine months. Joy comes in the mourning.

Sometimes the journey takes a twist. Irony enters the story. The liturgy of this week invites us to rejoice. To rejoice with Elizabeth and Zechariah who went from barrenness to fruitfulness. To remember Mary’s Magnificat. To hear the angels bring glad tidings of great joy.

Really? Now? Rejoice?

I need definition and meaning. The dictionary offers delight as a meaning for joy. It falls hollow. Further down under antonyms, rejoice juxtaposes with lament.

Lament feels better. Feels like the right word. First, Jeremiah comes to mind as the great lamenter. He expressed his grief through prophetic and poetic language. And then I think of Job, whose name is one letter short of joy. And whose life joys were destroyed by death.

Yet, joy surfaces in the language of lament. Strange.

As we journey closer to Bethlehem, I plan to take a side trip to the land of Uz, to better understand how joy can even be mentioned in the midst of devastation. Dare you join me?

Posted on by kelrohlf 1

Grasp:To Embrace

Grasping at straws. Sifting through sand. Wandering through the wastelands of my mind, wondering why this desert season?

“Grasp my hand.” A faint call from across the universe. I step closer, incline my ear. “You are not alone. Take my hand.” I reach out and the distance seems unreachable, but you are infinite and able to reach me before I fall completely in the dust of despair.

You grasp my shoulders in an embrace, steadying me on the path. You dust me off, offering a drink of Living Water from a well I did not see through my tears. You are the God who sees me, who sees ahead and has seen the wilderness before.

You were here, yourself, a long time ago, wandering and wondering and waiting. Tested and tried. Weary and worn. Hungering for bread. Thirsting for water. Training for the Cross.

You grasp it all. You get my despair. You were tempted like me, yet without turning your back on the Father or grumbling against His intention for Your life. You took hold of what I can never totally comprehend. You clung to the goodness of your loving Father all the way through the sweat and blood and pain, enduring it all. Grasping for the JOY set before time, the JOY of seeing and providing for the great hunger and thirst left from the scars of Eden.

I get glimpses and every once in a wilderness, grasp how wide and how long and how high and how deep is this LOVE.
 
 
Linking up with:
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Posted on by kelrohlf 4

More Running the Race

“…let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” (Hebrews 12:1b-3 NIV)

 
Five Lessons from the Race

1.       This is my race. Don’t compete with the others.

2.       Race in progress. Keep going, it’s not over yet.

3.       The agony of victory keeps you racing.

4.       This race was designed for you to finish.

5.       You’ve been training all your life for this race.

Yesterday, three of us piled into my friend’s car with our bikes securely attached to the bike rack and headed to Milstadt Parks Biathlon. Our first ever attempt at a combo bike/run. We each went through various moments of nervous doubts to “we can do this” affirmations.
 

When we pulled into the parking lot, our enthusiasm deflated. Next to every car we passed, a very athletic looking man lifted his bike effortlessly off the car rack. Are we at the right race? What did we get ourselves into now? Eventually we did see some women and met some first timers as we checked in, put our bikes in the staging area and walked over to the start. By the time we did all this plus took our obligatory bathroom break, we were standing at the back of the pack.

This is my race. Don’t compete with the others.

Before the race, I told my friend to just take off and I would run my own race. I knew I couldn’t keep up with her or her other friend because they have more experience. Once we were off, it was hard not to run really fast to keep up with the main group. About a few hundred yards into the race, I decided again this was my race. So I throttled back to my own pace.

I had two goals for this race…participate and hopefully finish. The race included a five mile run and a 22 mile bike route. The description for the race seemed a bit overblown, since we knew that the highways around the town were fairly flat. Here’s how their website described the race:

TAKE THE CHALLENGE!! Be a part of one of the largest and most challenging races in the central states region! This event not only tests your fitness level, but also your cycling skills. The high speed turns, rolling hills, and scenic farmlands make this event the largest in the metro east area.

Since I didn’t really believe this description, I just plunged in, thinking how hard can this really be? About halfway through the run, I knew how hard it could be. My goal of participating had already been met, but I also really wanted to finish. I kept my pace. I figured I was in last place, but I didn’t look back to check, I kept my focus on the race ahead. 

When I was about two miles in, the other runners were doubling back from the half way point. Some would shout “Good job!” Their encouragements kept me in the race. I even told one of them “Good job!”  I made it to the halfway water station, took a cup of water, drank it as I walked, threw the empty cup in the trash and resumed running. I gave myself permission to run/walk the last half.

Race in progress. Keep going, it’s not over yet.

Running around the turn, heading back to the bike staging area, a volunteer gave me my time: 1 hour 3 minutes. That announcement pleased me, because before the race my husband told me, if I ran the five miles in an hour, I would be able to finish the race.

I climbed on my bike, adrenaline pumping through my body while my legs pumped the pedals. The route out of town was flat. I was fantasizing about catching the rest of the racers, when I met one of the speed demons returning up the hill that I was flying down. Hills are definitely a rush going down, but there’s always one to climb straight ahead. I never caught up with the pack. I went back to my original mantra: “This is my race.” I found my biking pace, blindly hoping that I could keep a 10 mile per hour rate to finish the race under 3 hours.  After several rolling hills and steep inclines, I made it to the 10 mile point. At the water station, I declined a drink and asked what time it was. The volunteers replied “10:05am.”

The agony of victory keeps you racing.

I had fifty-five minutes and about 12 miles to go to beat the mandatory sag wagon pick-up. They have a strict policy of racers being off the route by 11:00am. I drank some water from my water bottle, zoomed down a hill and hit a steep one on the other side. I shifted into low gear to march the bike up the hill, my legs were screaming and I heard a car behind me. I decided to get off the bike and walk the hill, so the car could pass.  They didn’t pass. I looked back. It was the red pick-up truck assigned as the sag wagon. Uggh! I kept walking, they stayed back. I got to the top of the hill and climbed back on determining to at least make it to the 15 mile marker.

This race was designed for you to finish.

I sensed that the sag wagon was back there, and was surprised that its presence actually motivated me to keep going.  I ate an orange flavored power bar, drank water and kept pedaling up and down the rolling hills of Milstadt. I had no idea of the time. I climbed yet another hill and saw the town ahead. My last burst of energy kicked in and I headed towards the finish line.

I rode across the line and the clock read: 2:56:46. I made it. I finished with a few minutes to spare and no sag wagon in sight.
 

 

 

You’ve been training all your life for this race.

While out on the course, the last principle entered my mind. My whole life I had been training for this race. As a young girl, I often spent my afternoons riding my bike over hilly country roads, my husband  and I have biked with our boys across the Midwest and I have been training to run these past few months.
These race lessons parallel my spiritual journey. My relationship with God is mine. And when I compare it to others, I get discouraged. The little signs posted along the race route that read “Race in progress” reminded me that my growth as a Christ-follower is in progress. God’s not finished with me.
I often struggle with the agony of defeat, and the repeatable sin patterns in my life, but I was reminded during the race that Jesus suffered the agony of victory. For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross. The joy was to be reunited to each one of us through His own sacrifice.

The last two principles really offered me hope as I continue to walk with God. He designed us to finish. He’s not making our journey harder than it needs to be. Life is only as difficult as it needs to be. He has provided everything that we need in order to finish, including our past experiences and the current progress our of lives.

 

 

 

 

 
Posted on by kelrohlf 5