Day 5: Unapologetic Joy

 I'm often cautious talking about faith. Taking about the journey, God being present in the hard parts - doubt, grief, uncertainty.  This is a reflection of how many faith conversations I have with people at these points in life. 

I have seen the damage done by preachers who imply that with enough faith, God will fix things.  Cure the sick, erase the addiction,  pray the unpaid bills.  ... sometimes God does do that.  But mostly,  God heals us via the route of the cross.  A death to self and to this world that doesn't "fix" the problems with face but draws us deeper in relationship, into wholeness that comes with a peace that passes understanding and a grace that floods our utter brokenness.  That place is often where I experience an indescribable, holy God. 

I've been thinking and praying about how tired everyone is. A year of Lent. A year of giving up so many of our small joys. A year of so much grief for so many. Loss of a loved one, loss of a job, loss of sense of purpose, loss of friends, loss of personal space, loss of mental health.  There is a collective sense of loss.  My heart has been heavy for a world that is hurting. 

We need some moments of unapologetic joy. 

I remember living in Haiti when Brazil won the world cup.  People flooded the streets. They danced. They wrapped flags around themselves.  It was the first time that I really, deeply appreciated the unifying power of sports. 

Many days I sit in a cluttered house, with kids running amuck and I pick up a crying baby and he locks eyes with me and smiles.  I make a noise,  he giggles. His joy is contagious.  He is in wonder at this amazing place we call home and it is joyful to share those wonders with him. The ceiling fan, a warm bath,  the taste of applesauce, a cool breeze.  It is joyful and God is there. 

Faith has taught me not only to find God in suffering but to rewrite the script of my life to focus on love, joy and peace.  True I had to quit my job to stay home and homeschool my kids during a pandemic.  True that I've worried about my health and what I would do if I caught covid given my higher risk.  True I had complications at the end of pregnancy and gave birth to a premature baby while the world around me was literally on fire.  And while it definitely hasn't been as hard as what so many others have faced this year, it hasn't been exactly a picnic.

But it feels so much lighter. Leaning into the rhythms of grace and surrendering to a new path, my faith has pushed me to a narrative of love, hope and peace.  New opportunities to know my kids, to experience their wonder at the world, to open my life to a new call, to hold this new baby tight and laugh every time he does.

God doesn't always fix everything. 

Sometimes faith is a road laden with grief and uncertainty. God is present in that. 

But faith is also a road of unapologetic joy. Belly laughs, awe struck moments of wonder, holiness in the ordinary and grace in the rewriting of our narratives.