Joy.

For as long as I can remember, I've struggled with circumstantial joy. My happiness perpetually swings on a wide scale that ranges from giddy, almost hysterical excitement to a headlong plunge into a depths of despair that rivals Anne Shirley's most pitiable moods. The one and only answer to these fickle emotions is that they are built on the wrong foundation. When life is easy, when things go my way and everyone loves me and I'm organized and efficient and dinner is ready on time and the house is clean, satisfaction wells within me and I radiate cheery goodwill. The converse happens just as easily. I'm stressed, running late, my new car is emitting strange noises and leaks, the AC is broken and someone looked at me the wrong way, and instantly I'm a snapping turtle with seething resentment welling towards all mankind.

At our church's recent leadership retreat, we were reminded to bring the gospel to light in EVERY situation that we and those around us face. For the rest of the conference, and since, I've grappled with just what that constant gospel application looks like. Do you brush off someone facing terminal illness or the death of a child with a flippant, "Don't worry, Jesus died for you!" Does the image of a Savior hanging on a cross, bearing the sin of the world on His shoulders instantly alleviate the frustration of things and plans and relationships gone wrong? It can, and it should.

I believe the secret of true gospel application means reminding ourselves each and every day, in the midst of each trial and triumph, that this life, this day, this "slight momentary affliction" is not the final answer. For those of us who love God and are called according to His purpose, earth is a dot on an eternal line and we are simply passing through. What comfort to know that the greatest pain we feel is not random chance, but a divinely given opportunity to grow into who we were made to be. When my eyes and my hope are set on Jesus, let the storms and the sunshine come as they may - I know to Whom I belong and where my ultimate destination is. What comfort in the midst of uncertainty! What relief in the midst of hurt! May I be the kind of person who takes whatever life throws at me in stride - knowing that each circumstance is from the hand of my Father who has prepared for me "a weight of glory beyond all comparison."

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. - 1 Peter 1:3-7

Glorifying God in Marriage

Love does not consist in gazing at each other, 

but in looking outward together in the same direction.

- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

During the four years that Nathan and I dated, a poster with this quote hung in my bedroom, reminding me that my deepest happiness - and the ultimate future of our relationship - depended not on how we made each other feel but on how we enabled each other to better fulfill God's purpose for our lives.

I probably should've tattooed this quote on myself when the marriage began. Transplanted from my hometown and a jobless newlywed, I found myself in a sort of identity crisis as I wrestled with idolizing my husband and finding my calling as a married Christian ex-journalist. It was a never-ending temptation to view Nathan as the fulfiller of all my dreams, goals, wishes and unspoken needs. When I finally found a job and we both jumped into heavy ministry at church, I would give and give all day long, then come home ready to chillax while he waited on me hand and foot.

Needless to say, such misguided expectations do not lead to "happily ever after." In marriage, even more than in any other relationship, true happiness consists not in receiving but in giving oneself away. I firmly believe that the devastating divorce rates in our country today are directly due to self-centered and misplaced expectations - hopping from partner to partner in search of the "soulmate" who will somehow "complete" us and fill the void that was created to be filled by God alone. 

Married couples everywhere would do well to learn from the example of Ian and Larissa Murphy. I have followed their story ever since Ian's tragic accident several years ago, and this video brings tears to my eyes at the joy they have found in God and in one another despite unspeakable hardship. Please take a few minutes and watch their story of unconditional love. 

Larissa is one of my heroes. From the world's perspective, she has thrown her youth and comfort away on a man who cannot care for her the way she deserves. Thank God that Larissa's hope is not in Ian, but in Jesus. The love that He has lavished on her enables her to pour herself continually into loving Ian; not because he can reciprocate, but because in doing so she is making much of Jesus Christ. 

If we set our face to make of marriage mainly what God designed it to be,

no sorrows and no calamities can stand in our way.

Every one of them will be, not an obstacle to success, but a way to succeed.

The beauty of the covenant-keeping love between Christ and His church

shines brightest when nothing but Christ can sustain it.

- John Piper

Having Nothing, Possessing Everything

On Easter Sunday, the pastor of my Maryland church preached a sermon about the "unknown gods" that each of us worships daily. Our culture, especially where I live, is permeated with materialism. I would never describe myself as a materialistic person, but it creeps in unawares when I least expect it. I constantly scour Pinterest for new image-enhancing fashion and makeup tips. I feel the strong urge to hide my face every time I navigate my bumper-less, chronically screeching '97 Honda amid throngs of shiny SUVs, Mustangs and Camaros. I endlessly plan for the house of my dreams. And, like much of the working world, I envision myself and Nathan spending our last years in a blissful cottage by the sea.

Society's idea of retirement recently collided head-on with my concept of spiritual growth. My mom is one of my heroes, and for as long as I can remember I've watched her live out her faith with a mixture of awe and determination. "Someday," I tell myself, "when I'm Mom's age, I'll love Jesus as much as she does." This mindset allows me to make peace with spiritual apathy, since I have the rest of my life - 50 more years, at least! - to get serious about Jesus. What we would call premature death - a kindergartner collapsing on the soccer field with heart failure, a young teenager losing the battle with cancer, a college graduate's life abruptly snuffed out in a car accident - instills more than just grief. For me, with my intentions of living a long life with time enough to accomplish all my spiritual goals, it brings the sobering fear that I am not making the most of now. What are possessions, social status, beauty and accomplishments when faced with eternity?

Mom's parents just celebrated their 68th and 72nd birthdays, respectively. As I wrote their cards I reflected again on the impact that their counter-cultural retirement years has had on my family. Grandma and Granddad live in the simplest of houses and share one car. I cannot remember them ever traveling for fun, or engaging in leisurely hobbies. Their "golden years" are spent in community and political involvement, helping to homeschool and care for their grandchildren, and faithful intercession. To outsiders, their lifestyle would invoke pity - if not outright mockery. To me, a grateful recipient of their love and prayers, they have uncovered the pearl of great price. To them, Jesus is so wonderful that He is the only thing worth living for - now, and every day until they see Him face to face. They embody the words of Paul in 2 Corinthians, living "as having nothing, yet possessing everything" (6:8).

If my goal is to continually grow closer to Jesus for the rest of my life, why would I spend my remaining days on this earth in pursuit of pleasure and earthly fulfillment? Why not instead find true and eternal joy in the emptying of myself for Someone infinitely greater? Some may say that I'm being too hard on myself; that everyone deserves their share of happiness on this earth. This begs the question: what defines true happiness? Is it found in things, people and experiences, or in a relationship with my Savior? Do I really believe, in the words of Tullian Tchividjian, that Jesus + nothing = Everything?