Wisdom DateSample

Choose Joy

The simple funeral was held in the sanctuary of Mount Vernon United Methodist Church in Danville. Seated in the front, I could fully appreciate the beauty of this one-hundred-year-old church with its dark stained wood and enormous stained-glass windows. It had been five years since I had heard the life-changing sermon on holiness in this very room. So much life had happened since that hour.

At the graveside we said our final goodbyes. Susan removed a single white rose bud from one of the sprays, and we turned and walked away from all that was solid and familiar. But I had this assurance: Jesus would never leave us or forsake us.

The day before we flew back to our home in Atlanta, for the first time since Bill's death, I was alone for a few hours. Suddenly, without warning, my joy lifted and, in its absence, an undiluted grief struck full force. I began to sob desperate, destitute tears that I could not control.

In an intense desire to gather every memory with Bill and store them in my heart, I decided to revisit all the places Bill and I had lived. Parking at the curb of each home in succession, I reflected on the events they represented weeping almost uncontrollably all the while.

By mid-afternoon I was emotionally exhausted. Desperate for comfort, I went to my church and was directed to the chapel. Hearing my sobbing echoing through the silent building, my minister slipped in after a few minutes. He told me I should look at my life at this time as a huge jigsaw puzzle with many pieces missing. As my life progressed, I would put each new piece I found into the picture, and my life would be complete again. Time was the answer. Words of wisdom? Perhaps. Words of comfort? No.

Still searching for solace, I drove on to the cemetery. The fresh grave was still decorated with cut flowers. There I grieved again with acid tears, pouring out my love for my husband to my heavenly Father.

That night as I knelt beside my bed to pray, I was a completely emptied vessel. I thought back over the day I had endured. Perhaps this had been a necessary experience in my healing process, but I sensed that it had tipped into grief that was destructive. “Lord, I can't live like this. I have heard of people grieving for years. I will always love him, but I must go on.” I prayed until there was nothing more to say.

Then in the silence the Holy Spirit spoke, “You can choose. You can choose the way of grief or the way of joy.” But He also cautioned me, “There is a condition to the way of joy.”

I didn't even ask what the condition was. “I choose the way of joy, Lord!”

In that moment by faith, I received my Father’s provision for my next years. I slept all night and awakened the next morning filled with renewed joy. I was confident in Him whose joy was strengthening me to begin again.

I had not asked, but it did not take long for me to learn the condition for the “way of joy.” It was simply this: I could not feel sorry for myself or for my children. If I did, destructive grief swept in again. Thoughts like “poor me, I don’t have a husband,” or “the girls don’t have a father like other children” were off limits. I still walked through the natural process of grief, but I also set my mind and heart to live my life in the joy of the Lord, and He has supplied sustaining joy to this day. Today’s Scriptures are about the God of All Joy. Rejoice in Him, dear child.

My friend,

Thank you for letting me share these true stories and spiritual lessons over these twelve days. I pray they will multiply into blessings for you and your family. The Lord will ever reveal Himself to you. You can trust Him to lead you all the way!

Sending my love to you in Jesus,

Sandra