When mashed potatoes stick to my socks while clearing the table and when two pairs of rubber boots bring mud into the recently swept foyer and when the little one is having a tantrum in her bed so loud that I wonder if the neighbours will wonder…
I think… where is joy in this?
Where is God in this?
During the hour before the sun touches the eastern horizon and the house is still quiet, God is so real and so present. I can almost reach out and touch Him.
Then the day starts and children whine and siblings argue and the house is in need of a good cleaning… again. And I wonder how it’s even possible to find continual joy here. To experience God in every moment.
I read it in His Word… phrases like:
your joy will overflow (John 15:11)
you will have abundant joy (John 16:11)
filled with My joy (John 17:13)
you will give me wonderful joy in your presence (Acts 2:28)
But how does God make Himself known as I’m wrestling her into a bathing suit for swimming lessons? Is He present when two children are running different directions in the grocery store? Is there joy when I’m folding the laundry that will only need to be folded again in a few days?
Sometimes I need to fight hard for joy.
Sure – there are days where joy and laughter comes easily. But there are also days where joy seems far from me. And I wonder why. The place is the same; the people are the same; the situation is the same.
The difference must be the attitude of my heart.
I know joy is not dependant on circumstances. Joy transcends circumstances.
My gratitude list sits on my counter and I’m reminded daily to give thanks. Admittedly some days I have to dig deep.
Thankfulness and joy – so eternally entwined.
I offer Him gratitude, He gives me joy.
| The grain offering and the drink offering are cut off from the house of the Lord… Rejoicing dries up from the sons of men. Joel 1:9,12 (NASB) |
When gratitude is absent, I have nothing to offer Him, and my heart wanders. When my sacrifice of praise dries up, so does my joy.
I know these truths, but there are days I need to continually remind myself.
The mashed potatoes are easily wiped up and the mud is easily swept away and the little one’s angry crying gradually turns to singing through the monitor.
Then later as we are driving in the van, the little one says, “Mommy, when I was in my bed I was talking to God.”
“What did you say?” I ask.
“I told Him I was loving Him.”
God is in this place.
I catch glimpses of Him when I intentionally open my eyes to see.
Are there times when you need to fight hard for joy?
