About two years ago, I wrote this prayer in a journal:

“O God! You have whet my appetite in the desire for your joy. But I cannot obtain it! Please, God, grant me true joy in you!”

I found this interesting, even a bit convicting—though it came from my own expression.

Joy in the Lord is an abstract thing. I’ve heard more than a few attempts to sum things up succinctly, but it never quite works. Joy isn’t the same as happiness, or excitement, or even contentedness. It isn’t these things. But It’s not less than those things either. It’s not quite an emotion, nor quite a mental state.

It’s something else altogether and this post isn’t going to sum it up.

I believe all true Christians have an appetite, whet by God, for this true Joy. But as human beings, we seem to be prone to attempting to gain that joy by quasi-spiritual means. By systems, structures, rules. And, in a vacuum, it simply isn’t ever going to work.

Reading the bible doesn’t equal joy. Going to church doesn’t equal joy. Listening to worship music and singing along, it doesn’t equal joy. Telling lost people about Jesus doesn’t equal joy. Yet most Christians, me included sometimes, seem to try and make the equation work. Then when it doesn’t, discouragement sets in.

The concept of joy, in a spiritual sense, is complicated. But its explanation isn’t actually all that important. I don’t think the roadmap to it is even all that important. The reason being, when we seek the scriptures and follow it’s prescription to seek the Lord, then we find Joy.

If Joy is hidden in God, then we have to seek God to find it.

About two years ago this month, I penned a prayer in a journal I was keeping at the time. As I slowly skimmed over the pages a few days ago, I came across the prayer.

I think it’s strangely insightful. In a way that I certainly didn’t realize when I wrote it. The difference between spiritual numbness and spiritual peace are subtle. It is how unbelievers find contentment, even without God, and how believers stay their sanctification.

March 18th, 2008:

Jesus, help me not to confuse numbness with peace. For whatever reason, I feel nothing right now and I am tempted to call it peace. Whatever it is, will you spread you joy and goodness over it—for your glory?

Most of the time, peace comes from God after pain, while numbness comes from elsewhere before it. It’s like at the dentist when you go to have a cavity filled. They numb your whole mouth. If you were like me when I was younger, I would always irritate my mouth my biting the inside of my cheeks and tongue—it was a strange sensation. But inevitably, the numbness would wear off and my mouth would hurt really bad.

But the same analogy could be used for peace. A cavity irritates our mouth and causes pain, until we see a dentist who actually solves the problem leading to a legitimate ‘peace’. Not numbness, rather a real lack of pain.

As believers we must be aware when we’ve simply become numb. We cannot call it peace. It’s not peace. If we are numb, we are no doubt doing things that will hurt us later. Instead, we have to seek God to give us actual peace. And, it will likely not come before having to deal with some pain.

Samuel has just set Saul up as king of the people. The people demanded it, even though God was their king. Still God allowed Samuel to appoint an earthly king to the people. When Samuel revealed to them their folly, they acknowledged their guilt, but still were stuck with Saul.

So, they asked that Samuel pray for them. This is how he responds.

1 Samuel 12:20-22:

"Do not be afraid; you have done all this evil. Yet do not turn aside from following the LORD, but serve the LORD with all your heart. And do not turn aside after empty things that cannot profit or deliver, for they are empty. For the LORD will not forsake his people, for his great name’s sake, because it has pleased the LORD to make you a people for himself.

The Israelites had gotten themselves into a tight spot. Their sin had not left them condemned to death, but they still had to live with the very tangible consequences.

Samuel basically tells them, “You got yourself into hot water, now do the very best you can in the situation you’re in by continuing to serve the Lord.”

There is no question that, at times, our sin leaves us in a troubling spot. Perhaps in the midst of conflict or financial strain. Or, for some, even more severe consequences, like a child is conceived or a prison sentence is faced. But, like the Israelites in their consequences, we must realize that God is a God of grace. Although he will often let us live with our consequences, his grace is greater.

Our ongoing duty is to serve and follow the Lord. Whether we have sinned, or seen a victory over sin, we must continue to move foreword. Until we are glorified with Him, we can neither reach our goal, nor stop reaching for it.

And finally in 1 Samuel 12:23, Samuel adds:

“Moreover, as for me, far be it from me that I should sin against the LORD by ceasing to pray for you”

Now, of course we are not prophets to a nation of people like Samuel was. It may be too strong to say that it is a blatant sin to not pray. But for Samuel to call it a sin that he should stop praying for the people, highlights for us, among other things, the weight of the practice and discipline.

Though we fail, we should continue as if we had not failed, because the failure is already forgiven us. And crucial to that endeavor is that we would pray for success in our service to the Lord.

For my family, Christmas eve is a busy holiday. There is a traditional meal we eat together and almost always have somewhere between 20-25 guests to join us. It may not seem like that many, but consider that we squeeze around a single table. A sit down meal for that many people is undeniably a production.

It’s always a meal our family looks foreword to, but this year it was far less than enjoyable for me. I’ve had a bit of a health scare. Apparently an unexpected cocktail of over-the-counter drugs left me with really high blood pressure, nearly losing consciousness, extremely light-headed, and seriously spaced out.

I ended up having to sleep through dinner and missing the festivities, which was disappointing, but I definitely didn’t want to get out if bed. Every so often one of my family members would come and check on me and see that I was alright, and whether I needed anything. Over the course of a few hours, my whole family had been through to see how I was doing. My brother-in-law even came and hung out with me for a bit.

It reminded me, this morning around 10 as I was getting ready for the day, I thought to myself, somewhere, there’s someone who’s already begun drinking to dull the depression. Somewhere, there’s someone who’s begun a drug bender that isn’t likely to end until the new year. Somewhere there’s someone waking up and wishing he could just sleep through the next two days. After being incapacitated and sick all night, it got me thinking what a privilege it is to have a family that really is knit together and cares about one another—especially during the holidays.

So, my prayer tonight on Christmas Eve, the night before we celebrate our savior’s birth, is that God would visit those who are hurting. Those who have no one—no comfort. That he would be their comfort, and in their misery, reveal himself as the only worthy object of their whole affection.

In Psalm 9, David is praising God for protecting his people and overcoming his enemies. After Christ, however, we find that we are often our own enemies. So as I read, the final verse struck me in my own context. The verse reads like this:

“Arise, O LORD! Let not man prevail;
   let the nations be judged before you!
Put them in fear, O LORD!
   Let the nations know that they are but men! “

We live in a country of unprecedented privilege. Unprecedented resources. Unprecedented safety. And even us in the church struggle to remember that God is behind this. Not government, not family, not self—but God.

So, in my own mind, David’s prayer reads more like this.

“Arise, O LORD! Let us not prevail ourselves;
   thank you that Christ has taken the wrath of your judgment for me!
Put fear in me, O LORD!
  Let me know that I am but a man, and you are my God!”

Growing up Catholic, I’m familiar with the mindset that believes Christians can and do ‘fall out of grace’, so to speak. That if we’ve done something bad enough, we’re in danger of Christ’s sacrifice on our behalf being ineffective. And so there is a need to do some spiritual patch work and yet again seek God’s forgiveness through Christ.

Even in parts of the protestant church where that’s really not the teaching, the mindset still definitely exists (at least on some subtle level).

After all, teaching on post-conversion repentance isn’t really on the top of most church’s list—although teaching vaguely about ‘repentance’ is. So it would seem to me that what we end up with is a whole slew of Christians under the impression that if they’ve screwed up hard enough they’re on the outs. That is until they make things right with some magic prayer of repentance. Although no one can be quite sure what that is so everyone just wings it and hopes they’re getting it right.

Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating the issue a bit. But for the sake of a point, it’s alright I suppose.

Hebrews 10:11-14 sets things straight:

“every priest stands daily at his service, offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet. For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.”

Christians need to understand that the regeneration, justification, and propitiation brought about by Christ’s death on the cross and delivered through the conduit of our faith, are irrevocable.

Notice the change of tenses in verse 14. Yes, Christians are being sanctified, but we’ve already been perfected (in a way).

Following Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension, he didn’t go to some library style grace-renewal booth to divvy out renewals to the grace on sinner’s lives. He sat down at the right hand of God because what he’s done is done.

Continual repentance is crucial in a Christians life. But not because if he doesn’t do it, he’s losing his salvation, but because if repentance never comes, he probably never had salvation to begin with. It’s simply something Christians do. It’s who we are. We love God and when it comes to us that we have wronged and offended him, repentance just happens. Like juice coming from an orange when it’s squeezed—If no juice comes out, it’s probably not an orange.

So keep on repenting? Yeah, of course. We just need to do it remembering that Jesus’ work is done and the Father isn’t angry anymore.

I just came across Jesus’ night in the garden before his crucifixion. I’ve read it a million times, but found a fresh point of relation to Jesus’ disciples. It’s a wonder I never saw it before.

Jesus had gone off to pray. He warned them to keep alert and pray that they would “fall into temptation”. But it doesn’t happen like that. Luke 22:45-46:

And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow, and he said to them, "Why are you sleeping? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation."

Anyone who has struggled with extended periods of emotional despair or depression knows that there is something inviting and releasing about sleep. Tons and tons of sleep. When I am in times like that I often find myself “sleeping for sorrow”.

But the temptations that accompany sadness are only puffed up by attempting to sleep away our problems.

Of course, like the disciples who know that they should stay awake and pray against their temptation, I too usually give into the easiest, most comfortable solution.

Sleep.