Pure Joy
I'll say first, I'm no athlete. But I have friends who are. They tell me that it takes work to reach a level of athleticism that enables them to run marathons. It takes time, pulled muscles, pushing just a little harder. The muscles that will eventually be strong need to be broken down, pushed to their limits. It takes some trials and some hurt to build the stamina and endurance needed to finish a race. Some could say it takes perseverance.
I may not be an athlete, but I am a mother. And early on, I learned that my children wouldn't learn lessons that came too easily. None of them learned to walk until they'd failed, become frustrated, and tried again. None of them learned to ride a bike without taking some hard falls, getting back up, and pedaling on.
In fact, most of the things that eventually flourish around me have first required some level of brokenness. The gardens I love to grow in spring can't be productive until I've tilled the soil, stirred it up, broken its hard pieces to make room for the roots that will eventually sink deep into its warmth. The seeds I plant can't become a beautiful flower until they've been broken apart, allowing those roots to grow out of their broken hulls and produce something beautiful. And in the fall, the trees I so love to watch through my windows can't spread their branches and prepare for the next year's growth until they've shed this year's leaves and been stripped bare.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. (James 1:1-3)
Pure joy. Whenever you face trials--not if you face trials, but when. No growth, no life ever came without some brokenness, without the need to develop perseverance.
My mom called me this morning and shared those words. "These hard things don't happen to us because of something we've done wrong, as a punishment. They happen to build us up, to push us to grow, to develop perseverance."
I couldn't agree more.
I've heard it said many times that God doesn't waste a hurt. I believe it with all of my heart. But sometimes I think we expect the hurt to be redeemed in hindsight, that somehow something good will be made of it once it's all resolved. More often, I think the truth is that God doesn't waste a hurt--and he doesn't waste time.
The time we spend being broken, facing trials, waiting--it's not wasted time. It's not dead, silent time spent on a shelf. It's full to the last inch of growth, of change, of refining who we are and what we are. The seed in the ground is not silent and dead; its hull is being softened by the moisture in the soil, its walls are slowly cracked, the first roots start to grow and push through the cracks, they stretch and sink deep into the rich soil. Not one second of that time is wasted. God doesn't waste time.
To be in a season of waiting--as much as it is a trial--is not to be placed on a shelf. If we are alert, if we are aware, it means instead to be planted deep in a quiet place so that we can be made into something new. Consider it pure joy. This time is not wasted. Consider it pure joy. We emerge refined, renewed, stronger, more beautiful than ever before.
The trials are not without purpose. No suffering of any kind has to be wasted, just as no time is wasted. They are a joy, because they have meaning, purpose, value.
I may not be an athlete, but I am a mother. And early on, I learned that my children wouldn't learn lessons that came too easily. None of them learned to walk until they'd failed, become frustrated, and tried again. None of them learned to ride a bike without taking some hard falls, getting back up, and pedaling on.
In fact, most of the things that eventually flourish around me have first required some level of brokenness. The gardens I love to grow in spring can't be productive until I've tilled the soil, stirred it up, broken its hard pieces to make room for the roots that will eventually sink deep into its warmth. The seeds I plant can't become a beautiful flower until they've been broken apart, allowing those roots to grow out of their broken hulls and produce something beautiful. And in the fall, the trees I so love to watch through my windows can't spread their branches and prepare for the next year's growth until they've shed this year's leaves and been stripped bare.
Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. (James 1:1-3)
Pure joy. Whenever you face trials--not if you face trials, but when. No growth, no life ever came without some brokenness, without the need to develop perseverance.
My mom called me this morning and shared those words. "These hard things don't happen to us because of something we've done wrong, as a punishment. They happen to build us up, to push us to grow, to develop perseverance."
I couldn't agree more.
I've heard it said many times that God doesn't waste a hurt. I believe it with all of my heart. But sometimes I think we expect the hurt to be redeemed in hindsight, that somehow something good will be made of it once it's all resolved. More often, I think the truth is that God doesn't waste a hurt--and he doesn't waste time.
The time we spend being broken, facing trials, waiting--it's not wasted time. It's not dead, silent time spent on a shelf. It's full to the last inch of growth, of change, of refining who we are and what we are. The seed in the ground is not silent and dead; its hull is being softened by the moisture in the soil, its walls are slowly cracked, the first roots start to grow and push through the cracks, they stretch and sink deep into the rich soil. Not one second of that time is wasted. God doesn't waste time.
To be in a season of waiting--as much as it is a trial--is not to be placed on a shelf. If we are alert, if we are aware, it means instead to be planted deep in a quiet place so that we can be made into something new. Consider it pure joy. This time is not wasted. Consider it pure joy. We emerge refined, renewed, stronger, more beautiful than ever before.
The trials are not without purpose. No suffering of any kind has to be wasted, just as no time is wasted. They are a joy, because they have meaning, purpose, value.
