Hold onto Joy

Bob Goff introduced himself to the large crowd of ministers. For the next forty-five minutes, the convention center, filled to the brim with folks from across the globe, erupted in laughter. I had seated myself as close to the front as possible. I leaned forward as Bob spoke, soaked in stories of adventures, ministry, and a radical way to love my neighbor. It was a message that changed something inside me. In some ways, it was like the flipping of a switch, while in others, it has been a longer process.

I had no way of knowing that my new focus would be tested so soon, or that those tests would be so painful.

I’m still building on and carrying the lessons from that day at the convention center. Bob’s message has become woven into the fabric of my life, even as life hasn’t gotten easier. Thankfully, trials really do make us stronger. Scripture tells us “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience” (Jas. 1:2-3 NKJV).

It’s been a year since the world began shutting down. Here in the United States, we were far from united when it came to lockdowns, quarantines, how to count numbers, and how to keep ourselves and each other safe. Much was said about how we’ll look back on the lessons we learned, but I can’t help thinking it will all be different. Depending on where you stand, your perspective will be unique. Where you get your information determines how you see and respond to any given situation. Someone recently said, “We may be all in the same ocean, but we are not in the same boat.” I think this is rather apropos.

When mandated shutdowns began, I was halfway through radiation treatment to combat breast cancer. My boat was considerably different from those whose fight ended at an earlier time. As I left the cancer center on my last day of treatment, there were no ringing bells or celebrations. Nothing like the viral videos where medical personnel lined a hallway to cheer on the patient who completed their final appointment. I was simply handed a medal attached to a rainbow ribbon and wished good luck. On my way out, I waved to the three people I encountered from six feet away. Using my elbow to activate the door, I made the solitary walk to my car. Just like I hadn’t predicted cancer, no one predicted the pandemic. My emotions were a mix of loneliness and relief.

In the past, before I listened to Bob Goff speak, it would have been easy for me to see how unfair it all was and to justify moping around. This was the beginning of a global crisis wherein no one had a roadmap or, from what I can tell, toilet paper.

But it was also after that call to love and compassion. My new outlook had led me through some of the darkest days of my life. Those moments had created fertile soil in which I came to know the beauty of allowing the love of God to flow through me to others.

As his light shone brightly through the constant barrage of loss, his joy became my strength. When this happens, you begin to see others through his eyes. I found his love is deeper than any crisis or disagreement. It also means my expectations of others became infused with grace.

It’s not unlike a kitchen sponge. (You may have heard this analogy before, but bear with me.)  Most of us run our sponge under a stream of water after cleaning to remove the grime we’ve picked up along the way. Whenever you squeeze a sponge, what comes out of it reveals what is inside. Our lives can often resemble that sponge. If we don’t take the time to cleanse the places in our lives that become polluted with everyday living, life presses in, and the internal muck is released everywhere. I must continually remind myself of the love God wants to pour through me. He even calls it “living water.” The beauty of his Word supersedes anything that comes at me from the outside.

In my loneliness during the early days of the pandemic, it would have been much too easy to turn my attention inward. Instead, as I looked outward at my Savior, he showed me ways I could be a light instead of sitting in the darkness. There were ways to reach out, be kind, and show compassion to others as well as to myself, to access the love and hope I knew was inside, which meant spreading joy to others.

The world is full of stress. We can hope for a resolution soon, but until then, I am choosing to hold onto joy. My faith has been a loyal and constant companion that has carried me through the past year, and I am relying on it to keep carrying me. Even these days of doubt have not been able to strip away what I believe about God’s grace and love for all of us.

Jemelene Wilson writes about what it means to live gently and love passionately. She is deliriously in love with her husband, whom she’s known for over half of her life. Officially the mother of three, Mama Jem has also been known to mother those who just need some old-fashioned love. Building an environment of grace is the foundation of her ministry as a pastor and mentor. Someday she may choose to act her age, but don’t count on it. You can find more of her words at jemelene.com.

Photograph © Jeffery Erhunse, used with permission