Granting glimmers between reflection and longing, joy lays hold of you by what you know you will lose, with reflections of the unobservable universe, with the present delight of fleetingness. She touches and kisses her intended as a warm wind rising, then passes, allowing nothing but brushes of her solitaire assent and disappearance. Unable to be held or conjured into being, her allure teases us toward shallow imitation, knowing her true self comes only as toil and pain give way and the sweet memory of her scent lingers until she comes again.
When finally, we reach the place where we serve God’s will not as we wish, but as He desires us to see it, we have come to that place of heart God talks so much about. Joy laps over our ruddy shore until her rising tide reaches a high, deposits her humility within us and leaves an unrepayable debt, an assurance all is well. Joy is God’s way to say, “I’m here, rest in Me, I shall never leave.” I took years to understand this, to respond with thanks and giving.
Too many times in life, I have felt as though an island, separate from all those other islands with names and lives and ruddy shores. If there was a chance to advance, to claim a beach-head, I did my utmost. Each advance met with obstacle, retreat, then advancing again and spurred me toward self-gratification. Forget I knew this wasn’t true and around me were family and friends who loved me, who made me mad with their truth-telling. Forget I discarded my upbringing to stake my claim.
Along the way, those little twinklings kept fleeting by, reminders of my forgotten treasure. There was my son breaking 80 on the golf course for the first time, his twin sister writing a poem about a golf pro’s long hours and, as the pages turned, my youngest reciting Milk and Cookies from memory, all granting glimmers into fleeting delight. I remember those times N. prepared a favorite meal and kept my streak of chocolate birthday cakes intact, surprising me with Gordon Lightfoot tickets, making our house a home with her quiet overflowing thoughtfulness. Joy has a chance when two shores meet.
All my joys, those repetitive little waves lapping on my rippled shore, came to establish a province, a sphere purposed to gain my attention to what is true and unchanging. Don’t we all possess a sphere through which passes either joy or discontent, God or indifference? Who, then, will dive in faith and fathom God’s will to awaken to life’s purpose, to wander upon another’s shore and wonder… what if?
Each must decide. I, imperfect I, have decided mine. To each God gives this ministry of sphere, our joys never to be held but passed on to someone’s ruddy shore. This is God’s will, life’s purpose.
Today, I encourage you to wonder with me…
And say, “What if?”
“Those who have ears to hear, let them hear” (Matthew 11:15, NKJV).