Jumping for Joy

You will take note from my post yesterday that at this time of year I feel compelled to warn us against the trivialization and commercialization of Easter. I believe the shallow “happiness” sentiment expressed by way of bunnies and colored eggs is nothing less than the spirit of antichrist.

That being said, however, Christ’s resurrection is the happiest of all historical events, and should fill us with so much joy we cannot contain it.

In the Greek language there is a word for unrestrained joy. In Jude 24, 1 Peter 4:13 and Matthew 5:12, the Greek word is translated “exceeding joy,” denoting excessive joy and delight. It is derived from the word “to leap.” Somewhat humorously, we have an English equivalent expression: “jumping for joy.” I should point out that this “leaping” word for joy is not the word normally used. It seems the New Testament writers wanted a word that could express eternal joy irrespective of circumstances: “to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ, keep on rejoicing, so that also at the revelation of His glory you may rejoice with exceeding joy (1 Pe 4:13).

No matter how hapless yours, or my, circumstances may be at this moment, let's determine not to  let it keep us from having a “jumping for joy” Easter Sunday on the inside!

Should we say "Happy Easter"?

I struggled to find a message to convey at this special time of year. An event I read about in USA Today gave rise to this post. Last Friday the UN declared the first ever International Day of Happiness. Isn’t that too coincidental that within a week of the commemoration of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ (the most sober time of our year) the UN focuses on the pursuit of happiness?

I’ve always thought it was rather odd wishing someone a “happy” Easter. It appears an unsuitable word to use for such a holy occasion. The “pursuit of happiness” is quite contrary to the message of Easter—happiness being defined by our culture in a self-oriented way: I am happy when things go well for me.

Do you know that the promise of happiness was Satan’s lie? “Eat the fruit; and you will live happily ever after.” (People are still eating the fruit of self-attained fulfillment.) There is a clear example of this in the Gospels. When Jesus gave the 5,000 a free lunch, they were happy. But shortly thereafter, when Jesus explained that His feeding had been an illustration of the greater truth, “you shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God…and unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life,” many stopped following Him.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying God doesn’t want us to be happy; or that we should not wish people well on Easter. I’m saying we must be careful not to trivialize this Holy Day commemorating Christ’s death and resurrection with the world’s idea of happiness. The hard truth is Christ didn’t die to make us happy. In fact, He promised that if we follow Him, we will experience persecution and suffering. And in this we would find ‘happiness’ (blessedness)—not exactly in sync with the world’s notion of bliss. “Happy are the people whose God is the Lord!” (Ps 144:15). So, now that we've defined biblical happiness, dare I say "Happy Easter"?

What does the Holy See?

As I read articles about the new Pope, Francis, I saw the term “Holy See” in reference to him. Unfamiliar with the term, I found it means ‘government,’ as the See of Rome is the central government of the Roman Catholic Church, and he, the Pope, the ruler of that government. Immediately I thought of Isaiah’s words “and the government shall rest on His shoulders”—Jesus’ shoulders, not the Pope’s—(Is. 9:6).

But beyond the formal, legitimate meaning of the term “Holy See”, I couldn’t help but see the play on words—thus, the title of my post “What does the Holy See?” And I don’t mean Pope Francis. I mean ‘you and me’—followers of Jesus. Well, I hope we see God. And, I hope we see what God sees. And, I hope we can see what God is doing. But, one thing I am absolutely certain of: you and I can see as much as, if not more than, a Pope!

This truth is so important to us, especially in these troubled times, when it is so hard to see anything good coming out of wordwide political, social, and moral chaos.  But of course chaos and confusion can also be very personal!  During my time of trouble, the Holy Spirit reminds me of Jesus' promise: “Blessed are the pure in heart [the holy ones] for they shall see God” (Matt. 5:8).  “What does the holy see?” He sees the unseen. “Didn't I tell you that if you had faith, you would see the glory of God?” (John 11:40).

The Battle of a Lifetime

You probably think this is creepy, but a few years ago I started reading obituaries. Having grown up in the area I still live in, I have a perhaps morbid curiosity in knowing if any of my former classmates have preceded me in passing. I’ve noticed that a word commonly used in the obits is the word “battle,” e.g., he/she passed after a 2-year battle with cancer. Occasionally, an obit will even say that someone passed away after a “lifelong battle” with [some malady].

This year I find myself thus engaged. But my physical battle pales by comparison to another battle silently taking place within me. I am engaged in a battle with unbelief—taking place in my mind; the enemy’s attempts to make me doubt God’s goodness, loving-kindness, and His right of sovereignty. Paul uses battlefield language: “taking all thoughts captive to the obedience of Christ” (2 Cor. 10:5).

After years of action on the frontlines, you’d think I should be well-prepared. But I am finding that while past revelations of truth are enabling me to “stand firm,” I have to begin each day in the holy discipline of putting on my armor (Eph. 6:13-15). This is  where past-learned truths become today's  reality. Andrew Murray said it well: “Between the faith that accepts a promise and the experience that fully receives the promise lie years of discipline and training.” Surely this is what we would call the battle of a lifetime.

Is it OK to ask 'why'?

When people encounter an especially difficult and unexpected trial—loss of a job, a relationship, of good health—the “why” question will surface. But it is important to note there are two “why” questions. The first is “Why me, Lord?” This “why” is born out of self-preservation and self-pity. The second is just “Why Lord?” This one is born out of the faithful heart of a truth-seeker, submitted to God, even, and perhaps especially, when things don't make sense.

When I found out I had pancreatic cancer, I did ask the second ‘why’ question. Fifty-five years of walking with the Lord has taught me who is in charge, if nothing else! And, if I really believe “it is no longer I who live but Christ lives in me” (Gal. 2:20) and that “I am NOT my own, but have been bought with a price” (1 Cor. 6:19-20), there can be no “Why me?” God’s calling on my life gives Him full privilege to do with me as He chooses. Am I actually saying that God chose me for this affliction? Yes.

As a child, my very advanced brain was out of sync with my physical development; in other words, I was uncoordinated! Thus, I experienced the rejection and humiliation of one always chosen last (or not at all!) when sides were drawn for the baseball, football, basketball teams. But now, many years later, I feel like I have been chosen to be on God’s ‘major league’ team! Perhaps I am sensing a little of what Paul must have felt when he said, “I exult in my afflictions,” rejoicing that God saw fit to advance the kingdom through his suffering. I may not have an absolute answer to my “Why Lord,” but I am confident it is part of God’s ultimate design to make me a “vessel for honor, sanctified, useful to the Master, prepared for every good work” (2 Tim. 2:21).

Hard-pressed

Today marks the fourth week since my surgery for pancreatic cancer. The majority of the cancer—a tumor—was removed, along with parts of my pancreas, stomach, bile duct, and duodenum—not to mention removal of the gall bladder. It is one of the most invasive surgeries. And the post-operation recovery for this surgery requires absolute confinement. And in this word—confinement—there was/is a great spiritual application.

When Paul referred to his various afflictions as a servant for Christ, he said, “We are hard-pressed, but we are not crushed” (2 Cor. 4:8)—both words connoting confinement, narrowness, or, as one might say, “I’m in a tight spot.” For almost two weeks, I was confined by tubes, needles, and drainage pipes. But, thankfully, my confinement was temporary. And not only was it temporary, I knew it was a portal through which I would find greater freedom.

I am still somewhat confined—by a low energy level, by ongoing medications and treatments that will limit me for an extended period. But the words of the Psalmist have never been more real to me. “From my distress [Hebrew word means a ‘tight or narrow space’] I called upon the LORD, and He answered me, and set me in a large place” (Ps. 118:5).

The Other Side

On the day when Jesus told the Disciples to get into the boat, saying "Let us go over to the other side of the lake,” they launched out, most probably expecting clear sailing. But while Jesus slept, they were hit by a severe storm that threatened their lives. When they awakened Jesus, after calming the storm, He simply said, “Where is your faith?” as if to say “Didn’t I tell you we were going to the other side?” (Luke 8:22-24) In the middle of their trial, they became so focused on the present difficulty they forgot they were on a mission to the other side.

Likewise, you and I can be so focused on current conditions, we forget God has promised better things for us (Heb. 6:9). Paul says our present troubles are momentary and light compared to what is on the other side—something beyond comparison (2 Cor. 4:17).

Of course the problem for me and you is that when we are going through a time of suffering, we are often perplexed, and we do not know what is on the other side. When I lay in the hospital for 12 days last month after my surgery, I was able to look out the large window of my 9th floor room at the Phoenix skyline.  While I was  feeling so confined by all my tubes and needles, I just knew God was reminding me that just on the other side of my present suffering was a wide open realm of opportunity. 

"So don't look at the troubles you can see now; rather, fix your gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things you see now will soon be gone, but the things you cannot see will last forever" (2 Cor. 4:18).