Let Them Eat Cake: Authentic Joy vs. Feelings

What do you do when you go from top of your game, to bottom of the barrel (or at least feel like it)? What do you do when meaningful and important prayers you’ve been crying out to God about for a really long time, not only aren’t answered as you’d hoped but the exact opposite of what you prayed for is what continually appears to unfold?

What does that do to your faith, to your hope and your trust that God knows what He’s doing? How hard does that make it to get out of bed in the morning let alone face a new day with hopeful anticipation?

What does it do to your joy?

I write this in the middle of my own personal ground zero of spirit crushing disappointment, hurt, and foggy uncertainty. Oh, and in the middle of a life deforming pandemic nobody asked for because…. Well, why not?

Nothing in my life is as I would want it to be or have been praying for, even pre-pandemic. And I can appreciate lessons learned and the growth that comes from it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. And it’s made me take a hard look at what authentic joy really means, and how that’s different from bubbly and sparkly feelings that often go by the name of happiness.

I learned that brutal honesty with ourselves, and with God, about our pain is a necessary component of real joy. I think it’s important to acknowledge that the pain is there in a very real way rather than glossing over or pretending it magically went away before we can be positive or express joy.

It seems like so many tweets, flowery Instagram posts and articles tend to, in one way or another, minimize pain in order to come across as being joyful. In turn, people who are struggling may feel guilty for their pain, falsely believing that if they’re not “feeling” flowery and bubbly inside, then that means they don’t have joy, which means they just don’t have enough faith.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Sometimes life just sucks. It hurts. A lot. Can we just be really honest about that? And it doesn’t necessarily indicate a lack of faith.

But here’s the difference between joy and happy feelings.

Joy is the cake, the substance.

Flowery, bubbly feelings are the frosting.

Frosting without cake actually isn’t that appetizing (after a small taste, or two, that is). And feelings of happiness without real joy can be superficial and temporary.

So let’s say right now, you’re living one of the worst times ever. Tears of hurt and frustration are supplying your recommended daily allowance of sodium. No cake, and definitely no frosting, happening.

Question: Are you still holding on to Jesus’ hand?

Yes?

Good. That means you have a spark of joy in your heart.

It doesn’t mean you don’t cry yourself to sleep at night.

It doesn’t mean you feel flowery and bubbly inside.

It doesn’t mean you’re not in a raw and visceral place emotionally.

It doesn’t mean you’re not struggling.

It means you actually do have joy because you’re holding on to the hand of the man with zero earthly wealth or status who said, “I came to give life and give it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

You’re clinging, though sometimes tenuously, to the hand of the man who said “…And these things I speak that they may have my joy fulfilled in them” (John 17:13) even though he knew he’d be hanging on a cross soon.

You’re holding the hand of the man who was spat on, ridiculed, and hated; the man who sweated beads of blood as He spent nights in agonizing prayer to His father, the weight of world was that heavy on his heart and still said “come unto me all ye who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest...for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30).

You’re holding on the hand of the man who actually prayed for you 2,000 years before you were born: “I pray not only for my disciples that are with me today, but everyone who will believe in me through their words.” (my own amplified paraphrase of John 17:20)

Wow. Jesus prayed for you when He was on earth. Let that sink in.

It means you’re going to be ok in a deeper way than just feelings, and over the long run than just today.

You have cake, my friend.

Whatever season you're in, I acknowledge your private pain. I’m not going to offer cliche cure-alls like “focus on your blessings instead of your problems, then you’ll have joy.” That’s insulting to hurting people. You probably already do that and you are genuinely thankful to God for those blessings. But it doesn’t always stop the hurt. It's not supposed to stop the hurt.

I challenge that no matter what you’re going through:

The dream job that turned out to be a nightmare

The wedding that had to be postponed indefinitely because of a pandemic

The relationship that you prayed over so long and were certain was “the one”…wasn’t

The loved one who died from COVID

The -nth month in a row you’re wondering how all your bills are going to get paid

The filthy dishes in the sink that you’re too wiped out to care about even though they've started to unionize against you, they've been there so long.

The sunken in eyes in the mirror that tell a story you’d give anything to re-write with a happier right now.

If you haven’t given up on Jesus, you actually do have joy even though it doesn’t “feel” like it.

It’s His joy inside you that drags your heavy-hearted self out of bed in the morning.

It’s His joy that makes you drink a huge glass of water to rehydrate your worn and overloaded brain, brush your teeth, do your laundry, fill out another job application, answer one more email, or put on your customer service voice changer so you don't bite someone's head off, even though you’d rather curl up in a fetal position all day.

It’s His joy that enables you to wait so very patiently in the new normal long and noisy line to pay for groceries. It’s His joy that offers a genuine smile to the frazzled cashier when you finally get there 20 minutes later. It’s His joy that prays with and offers a word of encouragement to a friend who’s hurting too (and actually mean it). It’s His joy that imparts the strength and energy to (eventually) get those uppity dishes washed.

It’s His joy that keeps you going day after day with a prayer on your lips, and even the slightest spark of hope on your hurting heart.

I hope that gives you a better understanding of how Christ-like joy actually looks like in a practical, feet on the ground sense, so that you don’t feel shame or guilt for not having bubbly and sparkly feelings all the time thinking it’s a lack of faith on your part.

Took me a while to figure it out.

Also took me a while to come to terms with this reality:

In this world of sin we must sometimes learn to run with heavy hearts and fly with broken wings.

But it’s ok to fly with broken wings knowing that one day Jesus will give us perfect new wings along with our overcomers crown; wings that will enable us to soar higher than we ever could now, that will allow us to dream, love, hope and believe to the fullest without fear of loss or disappointment.

You know, all the stuff we long for right now but just can't seem to have.

Embracing this truth doesn't make today's pain go away now but it sure does give us something to look forward to in spite of it, but with our teary eyes and hurting hearts fixed on eternity.

That hope is the spark of real joy no one or nothing on this earth can give or, much less, ever take away.

But guess what else? ( I love that. With God it seems like there's always a happy "but" buried deep in the trash heaps of disappointment)

BUT... the same God who gives us joy in spite of the bad stuff, is the same God who can literally turn your weeping into gladness from one minute to the next.

He’s the one behind “the” text message, the email, or the phone call that changes everything for the better. He is the God who can answer long time prayers in the middle of your worst day, to make it your best day ever.

Anything is possible at any moment. Believe it, friend. Imagine that.

Cake, and finally some frosting too. Absolute bliss.