David C. Hughes, Writer

“For the LORD your God will bless you in all your harvest and in all the work of your hands, and your JOY will be complete." –Deuteronomy 16:15

Archive for the tag “Joy”

26 Jun 2014

The Epiphany of Joy, Chapter 15: Joy in a Person (1 of 3)

One of the most easily identifiable characteristics of Christian happiness is attractiveness. . . . Christian happiness . . . is tremendously attractive and very contagious.

—Matthew Kelly, A Call to Joy: Living in the Presence of God[i]

 

 

“Dad, you’re weird,” Hannah declared one morning as I waited for the toaster to eject my English muffin.

I grinned.  “Why do you say I’m weird?” I asked, sipping my coffee.

“Because you’re a writer.”

Yes, I am a writer, but first and foremost I’m a child of God walking to the beat of a heavenly drum.  For years I stifled my bongos under a blanket of conformity, smiling nonetheless, because, as the eyes are the windows to the soul, a smile is the window that opens to hope.  And now that the blanket has been stripped off, my drum beats loud and strong as I walk the path marked out for me through the jungle of status quo.

Mother Teresa once said, “Let us always meet each other with a smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.”[ii]  A smile can change your demeanor in an instant if you take the time to consider the possibilities painted in the brightness of the offering.  As I walk through life, I pray my smile touches people’s lives in some small way, with some small hope, with some small encouragement.

“Anyone who has a continuous smile on his face conceals a toughness that is almost frightening,” said Greta Garbo.[iii]  In so many ways, I wear this smile as a badge of defiance against an enemy who’d like nothing better than to steal it away and replace it with a scowl of defeat.

The Bible is filled with examples of people whose lives brought joy to others.  In the book of Esther, King Xerxes, king of Persia and Media, honored Mordecai, Queen Esther’s cousin, because Mordecai exposed a plot to kill him.  And because Esther revealed she was, in fact, a Jew, destined to be annihilated under the “vile” Haman’s orders, King Xerxes ordered Haman impaled, elevated Mordecai to second in command, and gave Mordecai authority to write a decree allowing the Jews to avenge themselves against their enemies.

Because the edict authorized God’s people to stand their ground, they ended up killing over 75,000 of their enemy.  Mordecai then established the celebration of Purim “as the time when the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month when their sorrow was turned into joy and their mourning into a day of celebration” (Esther 9:22 NIV®).

In his gospel, Luke recounts the angel Gabriel’s announcement of John the Baptist’s birth and ministry to Zechariah, John’s father.  “He will be a joy and delight to you,” Gabriel told the old priest, “and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord.  He is never to take wine or other fermented drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born.   He will bring back many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God.  And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord” (Luke 1:14-17 NIV®).

John the Baptist became a joy and a delight to Zechariah, but more importantly, he became a joy and a delight to those who paid attention to his message, repented, and turned back to God.  But why did Gabriel tell Zechariah to keep John away from wine or other fermented drink?  Because, as the last prophet before Jesus’ coming, God had filled him with the Holy Spirit in the womb, and God wanted to ensure folks didn’t confuse John’s intense joy for inebriation.  He was drunk with the Holy Spirit!  And he became a joy for others as he pointed his followers to the Messiah.

Earlier, I told the story of my friend, Jason Hoffman, and how a woman approached him at work and asked him, “What’s the source of your joy?”

Jason pointed up and responded “It’s all Him.”  Jason displays his joy in not only his beaming countenance and gentle character, but in his willingness to step out and serve others.  He’s a true model for what it means to be a joy-filled Christian walking in the footsteps of Jesus, our ultimate Joy.  Another inspiring person I know who’s wrapped in a mantle of gladness is Amy Copeland, Preschool and Special Needs Director at New River Fellowship.

Talk about someone who radiates joy!  The woman displays it as brightly as the moon wears the sun’s reflection.  The moment she walks into a room dressed in her almost perpetual smile, you can’t help but feel lighter and happier. “I think of joy as a deep feeling of happiness and contentment,” Amy told me, “knowing that no matter what happens, I am going to be okay, because God has me in His hand and He is in control.”

 

(continued)

 

References:

[i] Kelly, Matthew. A Call to Joy: Living in the Presence of God. Beacon Publishing, 1999. 134.

[ii] “Mother Teresa Quotes.” BrainyQuote. n.d. 12 June 2014. http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/m/mother_teresa.html.

[iii] “Greta Garbo > Quotes > Quotable Quote.” goodreads.com.  2014. Good Reads Inc.  19 June 2014.  https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/252365-anyone-who-has-a-continuous-smile-on-his-face-conceals

 

Copyright © 2014 by David C. Hughes

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04 Jun 2014
4 Comments

Life Began in a Garden (2014-06-04 Daily) [2 of 2]

Thriving!  In fact, the volunteer cantaloupes and pumpkins look healthier, are sturdier, and exude greens deeper and fuller than the cantaloupes and pumpkins I deliberately planted.  As I strive to grow organically, none of the plants, neither compartmentalized nor non-compartmentalized, have received any applications of fertilizer other than compost or chicken manure.  But all are blessed under God’s loving hand of provision.

As I took in this revelation I thought about the parable of the prodigal son, how God blessed not only the son who remained faithful to his father but the one who sowed his wild oats for a season and returned home.  Aren’t we all prodigal sons and reckless daughters?  Haven’t we all strayed from God’s path and precepts to one degree or another, yet He continues to pour out His mercy on us regardless of the soil we’ve chosen to root ourselves in?

As I sat on the weatherproof couch I listened closer to the garden’s meaning, breathing in the perennials–the artichokes we planted from seed three years ago and which started yielding their oversized thistle flowers last season.  And the asparagus.  Ah, the asparagus!  When it comes to perseverance in the plant kingdom, I rank asparagus right up there with Bermuda grass and henbit.  We planted five asparagus root balls six years ago on a whim–Mary and I saw them at Lowes one late winter day and decided, “What the heck?”  We dug holes in the sticky black gumbo, dumped them in, smeared the clay back over the root balls looking strangely like dried octopi, and hoped for the best.  Soon tiny sprouts no larger than the diameter of a pencil poked their round noses above the soil.  I think we harvested three or four sprigs that year.  It was pitiful.

My mother-in-law had informed me that asparagus patches can take up to five years to begin yielding appreciable amounts of stalks, so in my discouragement I did what every impatient gardener does: I plowed the patch under.  Too bad, so sad.

Next spring I re-plowed the garden to prepare it for that year’s planting, and as I worked the soil I noticed something astonishing: asparagus shoots were sprouting from the same five root balls in the same five holes we had planted the previous year.  Two eighteen-inch-deep cultivations hadn’t disturbed them in the least.  I figured anything that insistent deserved to be left alone and I haven’t touched them since, other than to harvest sprigs in the early spring.  Over the years the asparagus has produced more abundantly, and the sprigs are now as thick as my thumb, the fronds as tall as I am.  It’s a veritable jungle in our asparagus patch, a testament to persistence and God’s grace.

I took another sip of wine and squinted at the yellowed, withered, stunted cantaloupes and crook-necked squash poking out of the patch of garden where I used chicken manure for the first time.  Apparently I didn’t allow the chicken droppings to mellow long enough, resulting in soil nitrogen levels exceeding the plants’ tolerance.  Looking at those stunted cantaloupe and yellow squash seedlings reminded me of something both silly and serious: when we wallow in negativity, when we participate in gossip, when we argue for the sake of winning rather than compromising, when we keep our feet planted in the poop life throws at us, we end up withered, yellowed, and stunted spiritually, if not, eventually, physically.

“A garden isn’t meant to be useful.  It’s for joy,” said Rumer Godden.  But what does a garden really do?  It’s hard work, but, like writing, it’s in my blood and I do it because it’s not only enjoyable, but because it’s cleansing.  Like the Beloved after the fight with his new wife in the Song of Solomon, he went to the garden to cool down, because a garden heals, a garden lifts up, a garden is hope in physical form, faith demonstrated, love revealed.  A garden demonstrates the amazing reverse of decay and the persistence of life, entropy’s counter-punch.  It shows the magic of compost, of table scraps turned into soil, of the total interdependence of plants and insects and humans.  Of God’s provision.

I set my now-empty wine glass on the settee pillow and turned my thoughts toward my life and to the responsibilities and the opportunities with which God has entrusted me.  I sat quietly, patiently as the garden silently grew under the North Texas sun, the West Texas wind, and God’s hand of grace.  There’s nothing fast about a garden.  I listened to the birds, felt the warmth of the wind on my skin, absorbed the sun, rested…and appreciated….

 

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees

That half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees,

So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and

     pray

For the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!

– Rudyard Kipling, The Glory of the Garden

 

-THE END-

 

Copyright ©2014 by David C. Hughes

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