Real Joy

Not that fake stuff that I've often been decieved into believing. That I look for in my everyday life situations. That starts out with a tight cling from me and then slowly slips away and leaves me feeling hopeless and undeserving. No, not that stuff. That's not joy, at least, not genuine joy.

Back in the spring I asked for it. I pleaded with God and made a promise to Him. I've forgotten about it until now. I do that a lot. A lot in the sense that this is a recurring theme in my life, thus far. I didn't really know what I was doing. I entered into it blindly. I still don't fully understand this season of my life that I requested back then. So much has changed for me since that moment. And I never held up my end of the deal, because I thought I lost my joy in the midst of what I felt has become my misery and sufferings.

But I've come to find out, I never really had true joy, in it's most organic sense. I never aspired to understand or aquire it by any means. My efforts are honorable. But that hasn't found me true joy that lasts for the interior. During those times when selfishness causes me to lose sight of truth and promises. When my feelings become the most vital part of living for me. I'm not even talking about happiness, which I've come to find is truly just an emotion that I can add to my overwhelming list of unreliable feelings. I'm describing coming to know the greatness of my Father. When words and songs can't impart how great He is, that's who I want to know. It's what I appealed for in the spring and what I promised I would make my life about.

Despite my failing resistance, He's pursuing me with His love. To assure within me that His promises still stand and that I can rest in His truth. I'll spend my life to know, but I'm far from close.

My joy is not determined by what happens to me, but what God is doing in me and through me.