Some Joy

Early one morning at camp in Bolivia, I was lying in bed, body-weary and soul-discouraged.

We were in the middle of a big celebration for our camp’s 35^th anniversary and I should have been happy.  But I was cranky and complaining. All the hullabaloo for the event had done me in.

I wanted my apathy to switch into a party mood, but my feelings aren’t good at obedience.

Before I moved to get out of bed, my heart sighed a desperate prayer: Lord, please help me. I need some joy here.

Our room at camp was small, and our high double bed was built in against the wall, so to exit, I had to get out of my sleeping bag and roll over my husband.

I had done this maneuver many times through the years, but this time my flannel pajamas connected with his nylon sleeping bad like an inner tube on a snowy slope. Jake tried to grab me but his arms were zipped in his bag.

With a quick swoosh and a loud plop! I was lying on the hardwood floor.

Nice, I thought. Clever.

I began to chuckle, and then I was shaking, trying to muffle the full-on guffawing, totally enjoying the humor of that moment.

I still laugh remembering.

People in the rooms below and beside us heard those early morning sounds and wanted to know what happened.

Every time that day when I told the story I laughed.  Hard.

It’s not every day that God answers a prayer so quickly.

And so creatively!

It was a joyful day.

 

That is a good story for me to remember because this morning I woke up with the heaviness of disappointment.

I am disappointed.  With God. Forgive me, Lord, but it’s just that You aren’t doing what I want. 

With others.  How can they be so impatient, insensitive and unloving?

And with myself. How can I be so impatient, insensitive and unloving?

I mostly feel upset with myself.

Lord, please help me. I need some joy here.

 

One reason I love being a Christian is this:  I can see my sin and stop blaming myself.

Yes, I am wrong to expect a lot of God, of others, and of myself. I am wrong to demand my way, to think I know and I am always right.

This is how I am. I hate it, but it is true.

No matter how hard I try I cannot get free from my selfishness. I cannot purge the ugly self-righteousness out of my heart.  I cannot stop judging.  God. Others. Myself.

All I can do is take my sin to Jesus.

And rest.

“For me he died; for me he lives.”  He forgives me and changes me.

 

I didn’t fall out of bed this morning.  But I know God has granted me repentance and I fully expect some of his joy will come.

It always does.