Joy is [.]

Last fall, when I moved home, I spent considerable time trying to lay claim on my bedroom – which before lay unclaimed. And I began decorating.

In the last year, I’ve fallen in quite a rich fondness with black and white décor. When this summer I put together a prayer mosaic consisting of dozens of black and white photos, it became the center piece for much of the redesigning I undertook. I completed the wall (which would become the central focus of my room) by purchasing black picture frames and placing abstract photo negatives...one reading “Faith, Hope, Love” and the other reading simply “Joy”.

I had just barely finished arranging them all on my wall – looking at the arrangement as a whole with a degree of satisfaction when “Joy” came crashing from its nail and onto the floor. The grueling task of trying to make sure every little piece of furniture had a perfect spot had taken its toll. It was late and I was tired. With frustration I moved the desk and retrieved the picture only to discover there was a clean crack in the new glass that extended from top to bottom and marred the presentation as a whole.

“Perfect!” I replied both sarcastically and more than slightly upset. I resolved myself to buying a new frame and put the picture back on the wall for the time being.

The next morning, when I woke up, the very small bars of light which make its way into my basement bedroom as the sun begins to rise settled across my newly decorated wall. One of those bars of light caught and accentuated the crack in my fallen ‘Joy’. I scowled again. And yet, as I went to brush my teeth, it occurred to me that the picture itself was fine. The crack – even with the sun scattering light across its surface – didn’t hide the word.

I decided to give up my scowl and ignore it. It was a clean break. The rest of my room was all but in order for a “as good as it gets” conclusion to my temporary placement and my parent’s permanent residence. I could get a new frame another day.

And so it remained.

Everyone who visited my room noticed it. They would always point it out like I probably didn’t know. “There is a crack in the glass of your picture!” Um, yup, thanks.

Weeks past. Months were flipped on the calendar. And I left it. Left it cracked. In fact, when I moved recently, it was placed in a box with the other essentials from my bedroom at home and the whole arrangement was placed on my new bedroom wall in a similar manner as before. Complete with the marred piece of glass covering the word ‘Joy’.

Not long afterwards one of my housemates saw it and stated “oh no! Your picture is broken!”
I chuckled and smirked. “Yep. It’s always been broken. I like it that way.”

Because I do.

Somewhere in the midst of a challenging fall – more challenging than the obvious states or I share; somewhere in the midst of a wrestling match with the God I knows loves me first, loves me most, loves me best; somewhere in the midst of a life I couldn’t quite process and a future I couldn’t anticipate...it clicked.

Even though I couldn’t and can’t always claim it, the word and profundity and inclusion of the word ‘Joy’ was truer inside of a broken frame.

Sometimes I, as a long term believer, would hear people talk about joy and want to smack them. When my faith lost its rose-colored glasses in the middle of cancer diagnosis, the word made me embittered. It wasn’t the essence of the word; it was the way people talked about it. Like it was a body cast sized band-aid...like if I applied it properly nothing would hurt. The realist in me said “God allows bad days! I’m not supposed to wallow in them but stop telling me to find the ‘joy of the Lord’ every time my life feels off! I don’t think that word means what you think it means...”

Maybe I was a little extra embittered, but I also think part of me was right. Joy is a fruit of the spirit. Which means it comes by mere simplicity as a supernatural gift. It doesn’t need to mask, cover, or perfect. It doesn’t need ideal conditions to be made apparent or known or real. It stands alone.

Joy is not the opposite of sad. It is not the antonym to pain. It is not the alternative to a bad day. It just is. Joy is. In the same way love and peace and patience and self control (when given from God in that ‘supernatural gift’ sort of way) don’t make sense in comparison to the rest of life...joy stands alone.

And, in fact, like one lighting bug in a night sky, joy is made most and best known not in spite but in midst of a world that seems off. Because true joy doesn’t make sense when up against the rest...but it still, is. Joy is.

Every time I look at my flawed art on the wall, I smile in satisfaction. Because joy exists behind brokenness...behind the cracks...behind the pieces people want fixed, replaced, and ignored.

Joy is a gift. And also a choice. Because my circumstances, surroundings, busy head or busy hands or busy life, don’t dictate its ability to exist...they also don’t get to dictate my response. Joy is a choice...and the choice to claim...always.



2 Corinthians 7:4b “...I am greatly encouraged; in all our troubles my joy knows no bounds.”

1 Thessalonians 1:6 “You became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you welcomed the message in the midst of severe suffering with the joy given by the Holy Spirit”

Psalm 51:12 “Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me...”