Screaming, Bottles, and Irrational Fears

There's a baby in this home.

Just in case you hadn't gleaned that tidbit of information from my infatuated blog posts.

Babies like to eat. A lot. And at 3 a.m. I like to eat at three in the morning, too. Of course, I'm usually craving greasy fries and a cheeseburger, not formula.

Babykins has now been with us 2 months, 1 week, and 1 day. I have given him approximately 196 nighttime bottles. And the ritual is always the same: he starts whimpering, then screaming, I dart out of bed, and pick him up with soothing tones. I mix formula and water, and then pop the bottle in to be warmed. Nothing changes about this routine. Nothing. I always say, "It's okay, sweet little babykins." I always mix the formula. I always prep the bottle. And then.... I always place the bottle in the starving baby's mouth. Nothing changes.

But does wee Babykins stop crying when I pick him up?
No.
Does he stop crying when I speak my rote, soothing comfort?
No.
Does he stop crying when I dump the formula, shake the bottle, or heat it up?
No.
He does not.

From the way that this baby yells, you would think that I make it a consistent habit not to feed him during the night. You would think that I always whip up bottles and then completely forget to give them to him. Or rather, that I prefer to watch him scream and struggle. Maybe, I want that bottle for myself. Ridiculous baby. What silly fears.

But I am no different from my tiny baby.

I spend hours of my life "grown-up screaming." We call this "worry" when we reach adulthood. It makes us sound more mature. In reality, I'm just doing what Grant does. I'm spinning countless scenarios around, and around, and around...

"Maybe God won't give that to me."
"Maybe He's going to make me wait until I pray the right words."
"Maybe He doesn't want me to be happy."
"Maybe what God has planned is for my "good." Ugh... the horrible sanctification "good.""
"Maybe God forgot me."
"Maybe I did something that is keeping God from giving me this."
"Maybe this isn't important enough."

And so, I sit there. I turn my problems over and over and over in my head. I fret, and stew, and worry. I'm quietly screaming at God, "When are you going to give me that bottle? Where is the bottle? Why don't I have the bottle yet?! Did you forget about my bottle? Are you tired of giving me bottles? Doesn't every one else have a bottle!?"

What ridiculous worry.

Right now Scott and I have no plans beyond June. We could be anywhere on July 1st. We could be nowhere. I have absolutely no idea. Not even a little one. When the hubster finishes seminary, we might move across the country, we might stay put. I might keep working. I might stop. We might have to move. We definitely need to sell our house.

This uncertainty can lead to pre-bottle screaming.

What about our house? How far will Grant be from his grandparents? How far will I be from my parents? What will our church be like? Oh dear.... will I be expected to play the piano and lead women's ministries? Is our house going to sell? Will I have to keep working? Could Scott be bi-vocational? Will our family survive ministry? What if there isn't an Aldi nearby... where will I get groceries? Am I going to forget what is in style as soon as I become a full-time mommy/pastor's wife? Can we ever have fun again?

How ridiculous are my fears? Very.

God has already given me all I need for life and godliness. And (one of my staple verses) "No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly." (Psalm 84:11)

God has given me a wonderful family. A masters degree. A job that I love. A hubby I adore. I'm holding my wonderful baby right now. Each one of these things are blessings I did not deserve. Almost all of them are things I was convinced (at one point or another) that God was never going to give me.

My life is literally reeking with blessings. And I find time, in the midst of all that goodness, to throw my head back and howl about my next blessing. Really?

So, I took all that worry, I bundled up all that anxiety...

And I'm reveling in the blessings that I've been given. I'm enjoying my job. I'm cuddling my baby. I'm smooching my hubby... and every day I get down on my knees, and I refuse to get back up until I've praised God for at least five of my current gifts.

Guess what... it works. "And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts... And be thankful." (Colossians 3:15) I don't think it's a coincidence that peace is mentioned in conjunction with thankfulness. The very next verse goes on to give more suggestions for peace: "Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God."

Listen to the richness of that verse: dwelling in the word, teaching with wisdom, singing... with thankfulness!

So. I will pour out my heart in praise, I will dwell in the richness of God's promises, and I will rejoice with thankfulness at His many blessings. 

And after that, my dear friends, is when uncertainty becomes a great adventure!

Grant Alexander: Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles

We are home.

I've done my first night as a mom flying solo without a battery of NICU nurses coaching me and taking the night shift. We've successfully completed numerous diaper changes, multiple feedings, and we put a sheet on a baby crib. Big stuff, folks, big stuff...

And now it's time to tell you the beginning of "Grantlet's" story. It's a good Christmas story--lots of miracles, sparkles, love, and cuddles. So, grab your favorite wintertime coffee blend, curl up in a big comfy chair, and let me tell you a story of how a wee-small baby changed our world.

It was a cold, incredibly normal Monday night. I was curled up in bed, diligently avoiding the remaining dishes downstairs, and browsing for Christmas stories on my Kindle. Scott was at the community center and I was feeling a wee bit lonesome, hopeless and nostalgic.

Two weeks earlier, on a brittle, sunshiny day, Scott and I had driven south to Bloomington to meet another birth mother. This was our third "connection" since starting the adoption process, and "anticlimactic" could not have more fully described our emotions on that drive. Hope was dead. After a very brutal let-down, and a slow fade-out by two other moms, I was very far from believing that we would ever get a child. Christmas was approaching, and memories of our lost little baby would make me cry on an almost daily basis. Each date around this time of year was full of very painful memories of last Christmas.

I am ashamed to say, I was wallowing in a very pale-blue despair, which gently permeated multiple areas of my life.

So, we were not excited to meet this mom. We were not anxious. We were not nervous.

Over a lunch of creamy potato soup, we chit-chatted with two social workers and the birth mom. Within the first 30 minutes we learned that she had considered an abortion (I almost cried), couldn't do it, and was willing to place her boy with us. She was due the end of December.

I cried three times at that lunch, because God knew. God knew Scott and I were biased towards having a baby boy (we agree on more boy names). God knew that I wanted a baby at Christmas time (Scott said it was like a Hebrew redemptive story-line, God restoring what was lost). God knew that we couldn't handle a long wait, so He gave us a birth mom due five weeks from when we met her. God knew! And He orchestrated.

We may have been calm driving to that meeting. We were definitely not calm driving from that meeting.

And then the waiting set in. I tried not to go crazy. I tried not to buy ridiculous amounts of clothing (and I succeeded... kind of... I lost my heart to some little elephant jumpsuits and corduroy pants with a cardigan--preppy baby!). I didn't plan. I didn't bank on it. Although we had met birth mom, she had not signed anything legally binding. She could still change her mind. Even when the social worker called and said birth mom was deferring to our wishes in several areas because it was "their baby, not mine," I still tried not to hope.

So, that is why, two weeks later, curled up in bed, sipping hot cocoa, I was trying to assuage my anxiety and despair with fluffy, Victorian Christmas stories. (This genre is my weakness...). A little after 10:30 my hubby arrived home, bearing a letter. A dear sweet friend, struggling with similar feelings of motherless, aching arms, had written me a letter. As I read it, all my frustration, fear, and worry, spilled over in tears of relief. I cry every time I think of that letter... We have prayed, every step of the way, that God would use this story to proclaim His sufficiency. Her letter breathed encouragement that this was really happening: that God was really being glorified. That the waiting and longing were being used to proclaim His glory.

Tears dripping off the end of my nose, I turned to Scott and said, "It's happening, honey. Someone saw. Someone knows that God is enough for us."Stifling my last little sob, I cuddled down next to my hubby and said, (what I had said every night since we had met the birth mom), "Maybe tonight a baby will come..." (because in my mind, women only go into labor at night.)

We were jolted awake at 11:25. Phone ringing.

"Courtney?"
"Yes?"
"This is Carol, from the agency. You guys need to get in your car. The baby is coming. Do you have a bag packed?"

Did I have a bag packed!?! No, I didn't have a bag packed! That would have created hope. It would have meant that it was definitely happening, and the baby wasn't supposed to come for another two weeks!

Fifteen minutes later, we're in the car, rubbing sleep out of our shocked eyes, with a bag full of slippers, a camera, baby clothes and a bra. Somehow, I labored under the delusion that I had packed everything I could possibly need. And, who cares? There was a baby being born.

We got to the end of our driveway, and we get another call,

"Courtney? It's Carol. The baby is here. The birth mom pushed for less than 15 minutes."

Another. Answered. Prayer. Birth mom's last baby came after 36 hours of labor, and she was terrified that would happen again. We had been praying with her for a speedy delivery. I wasn't banking on it being that speedy.

We learned that little baby was very tiny, and had been born with meconium in his lungs. He was in NICU. But stable. My heart took a motherly leap, and immediately started worrying. (Because God hadn't proven Himself faithful up to this point... right.)

We held baby for the first time at 2:34 on Tuesday morning. Grant Alexander was 4 pounds, 10 ounces at birth. Incredibly tiny for such an incredible blessing.

The next twenty-four hours were emotionally grueling. According to Indiana state law, a birth mother can not place her child until 24-48 hours after birth. There's always a chance she could change her mind. Fortunately, we were blessed with an amazing birth mother. She and I chit-chatted, sipped Starbucks, and talked about our lack of athletic ability.

I told her about Baby's name... Grant. I explained that his name meant "gift," and that each time I call him, all throughout his life, I will remember that he was a precious gift from the woman who carried him, and the God who protected him.

At 11:00 on 12/12/12, the final papers were signed.*

Grant Alexander.

Gift.

Man's defender.

And proof that God will write a better story than you can possibly imagine.

Grant, less than 24 hours old... and already given us dramatic faces. He was born for this family!

* Our adoption will not be finalized in court for approximately four months. Also, Grant's biological father has refused to claim the baby and sign the necessary papers. He has 30 days to complete multiple steps in order to claim the child. Technically, this is a "legal risk" adoption. However, we have been counseled by our lawyer to continue to pursue the adoption. In over a 1,000 adoptions, the lawyer has seen less than 20 contested. Pray ours is not one of that small number, please!

Some news... be excited!

My heart is overflowing with gratitude.

Countless people have prayed for us and our future children in the past few weeks (and months!), and we're amazed at the love that the people in our lives have shown us.

Thank you.

And so... some news on our little elephants-- yes, I said elephantS! Plural! We hope...

We have been selected to adopt a three year old little girl, and her soon-to-be-born (in January) sibling.

We are still waiting for final papers to be signed. The situation is longer, stickier, and more emotionally draining than either of us anticipated. Things may still fall apart... But God is holding us together.

Thank you for your prayers, and... keep praying!!!!

Let's Change Perspective, Shall We?

Welcome to the land of adoption.

It's very confusing here. Things change constantly. Your hope gets lifted up so many times, and then dropped so many times, that you start taking emotional Dramamine and praying for an end to the sea-sickness.

That is where we are living.

I cannot (and at this point will not) go into more details. Since I am I woman, I want to share every detail, but since I am also a rational being, I recognize that in thirty minutes, I could have an entirely new set of details. Everything is fuzzy. Everything is transient. Nothing is stable. Nothing is reliable.

That's domestic adoption.

Right now, we have no child. We have no baby. There is no adoption court date. We have talked to several moms, we have had phone calls with multiple social workers. Nothing is written in ink, nothing has even been sketched out in pencil.

We are learning so many things about God, that I have a slew of blog posts until the end of 2012. I've even started writing in a daily journal... there's just too much to even keep up with on a blog. I am astounded at the greatness, goodness, patience, sufficiency, sovereignty, constancy, joy, support, grace, mercy, forgiveness, gentleness.... (you get the idea).... of our God. What a blessing to walk through this with Him. I have no idea how you could do this without Him...

But as we walk through this roller coaster, we have had a shift in goals and perspective.

We want children. We started this process because we want children. In fact, we want so many children, we are crazy. And we know that. (Does 9 sound like too many?) But in our pursuit of children, we tried to be very careful that our first priority was the sharing of the Gospel. We want children because we want to raise a generation that fears God. We wanted to interact with the social workers, the lawyers, the birth mom, and all extended family in a way that showed who we serve and who we worship.

God was gracious with these desires.

And He expanded our narrow thinking.

He took our view of the Gospel and made it bigger. He took our view of the cross and stretched it farther. He flipped our expectations and dreams around, and showed us an entirely different perspective.

In short, God made this journey bigger than us. He made it bigger than getting children. He made it bigger than creating our family. He made it bigger than displaying love through welcoming any gender, skin color, or birth condition. He made it bigger than our dreams, our desires, and our (hopefully) huge future family.

He made it about HIM.

We desperately want children. But that is not why we are in this adoption. Our views have now changed. Our goal is to give God glory. That's it. So you may hear us doing some crazy things. We may get involved in some messy lives. We may have promises broken, take scary risks, and cry often. We probably do "crazy" things and live in a way that is not entirely safe... because we are learning to love as Christ loved.

If we have no children.
Fine.
If we have a million-and-one adoption chances fall through.
Okay.
If our hearts are broken again and again.
All right.
If I never earn the title "mommy" and Scott is never called "daddy."
It will be fine.

In fact, it will be wonderful. Because God has only good planned for us, and we know that "no good thing does He withhold from those whose walk is blameless." Right now we are enraptured with the beauty of God's glory. And we are delighted, children or no children, to share that with the world. We don't know what that looks like, we don't know what tomorrow holds. But if, while we walk this journey, we fall deeper in love with our Savior, and we fulfill our roles as His children in our interactions with others... that is a beautiful thing.

And I would not dream of asking for more.

We have been blessed beyond measure.

You have said, "Seek my face," My heart says to you, "Your face, Lord, do I seek." I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!
~Psalm27~

Waiting, Nesting, and Glass Bottles

Well, dear reader, it's time for an adoption update.


Here's where we are in the adoption process... Everything we need to do is done. Everything that we can do is done. Our profile is written, our bio-clip is on the adoption website, and we are settling in for a nice, long wait for our baby.

The online bio. I did not write it, although it sounds like I did. I was surprised to hear I liked camping...

I tell myself that it's going to be a long time, but that doesn't keep me from jumping every time the phone rings, and for the life of me, I can't stop leaking tears when I walk by the baby section at Target. I don't wear water-proof mascara, so seeing baby clothes is very inconvenient.

We were told in our 8-hour "counseling" seminar, that it was probably not wise to outfit an entire nursery and start collecting massive amounts of baby clothes. Couples who have almost adopted, and the birth mom decides to keep her child, have described the emotions as "grieving a death." Having a fully equipped, yet empty nursery, could only be salt added to that wound. Plus, God may still decide that Scott and I are not supposed to be parents.

So, for now, I have only bought the bare essentials: three onesies, some receiving blankets (with elephants on them, of course!), a crib, a car seat, and some glass bottles. (I bought glass bottles because they were cheapest, and I figured all my hippie friends would be proud of my seeming attempt to protect my child from plastic-bottle-induced cancer.) I also bought a Dr. Brown's bottle. I want my baby to be reflux-free, and as a speech therapist, in an office full of speech therapists, I've heard every infant feeding horror story known to man, and I'm prepared for massive episodes of baby reflux. I also attempted gender-neutral, but you can see my natural affinity for blue (over pink) coming out... I'm afraid even a Baby Girl Allison will be dressed in decidedly unfrilly, unpinky creations, as her mother has an intense aversion to pink lace...

"Cedric the Unnecessary" waiting for Baby Allison.

The bare essentials. The onesies say "loved." How perfect is that!?!

So, the essentials being purchased and arranged, I am now in the process of looking for "safe" nesting activities. This involves starting and stopping multiple projects (for example, an oil painting that is worked on in bursts and fits, and is probably giving my husband bursts and fits, as his dining room table is frequently converted into an art studio).

I've purged all the cabinets in my kitchen. Please note this beautiful spice cabinet. My spice cabinet has never looked like this. I'm a "free spirit" everywhere (which is just another way of saying I leave things all over the place), and this is especially evident in the kitchen where chaos is king. I like to cook without recipes, and I throw spices around like I'm juggling. As a result, my cabinets usually reflect this haphazard philosophy. But I'm turning over a new leaf. I have a sneaking suspicion that I haven't gotten a baby yet because my spice cabinet wasn't clean. Moms always have clean cabinets. At least mine does...

I also color coded "my" book shelf. Scott and I have a total of four bookshelves in our house. Scott has two from his bachelor days which are filled with commentaries and dry books on eschatology and the role of _fill in the blank_ in the church. I have one that is staggered, and eclectic, and made by my dad, which I inherited when my brother left. There is also a seven foot, oak beauty is supposedly "ours," but Scott dogmatically arranges the books by author, alphabetically, and he steadfastly refuses to let me organize it as I want: by color. So, I decided that I would organize "my" book shelf in this new fashion. The results are not as striking as they would be on the big bookshelf (which I will conquer one of these days!), but I was delighted with the results of this nesting project.

So, I drift from oil painting to cleaning projects, to taking up new hobbies. I finally ordered photo prints for my picture frames, and I've decided to tackle the linen closet next.

I want to experience the anticipation, the urges to clean, the nesting, the baby showers, the excited questions from people, but I can't. This story is a little different. And I am okay with that. I can't talk about my pregnancy, and no one really wants to hear about the throes of paperwork drama I experienced. I flit between excited expectation, and a convincing certainty that we will never get a baby. I get impulses to clip coupons for formula, and then remind myself our child may already be 2 years old. The lack of certainty could be frustrating, but it serves rather as a reminder that all of life is uncertain. Even if I were carrying a baby, the uncertainty would still be there. Even if I were already parenting there would be uncertainty.

And I refuse to wallow in uncertainty. I have a God who delights in spreading His fame. I cannot but help to believe that our story is but a small, glorious snippet in the grand story He is writing across eternity. I wonder what our story will look like, while I also delight that our story is not the end.

So,  I tie my hair back, pull out my Clorox, and scrub another surface, blissfully content that God will work it all out.

If nothing else, my house will be clean.

Joy... Through Gratitude

Okay, so joy’s not dependent on circumstances, and these trials are useful in conforming us to Christ (who was also tested…). But what brings joy?
Here’s where I love to turn to Philippians. Paul mentions “joy” or “rejoicing” 12 times. Outside of the Gospels only II Corinthians has a greater use of this word. (and 2nd Cor. is bigger… So it almost doesn’t count.)

Philippians was written near the end of Paul's life. Church history would suggest that at this point in time, Paul was imprisoned and near death. His execution was closing in. And yet he mentions joy repeatedly. How, in the midst of imprisonment, with death imminent, did Paul display joy?

"I thank my God in all my remembrance of you, always in every prayer of mine for you all making my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.” (Phil. 1:3-5)

Gratitude brings joy.

Constant expression to God and others in thanksgiving for all that He has done and provided results in joy. I love this truth. I have never been in a situation in which I could not find something to be grateful for. God's mercies are truly never-ending.

I remember one time when I was in the hospital while studying joy. I was incredible pain, miserable, and mourning the loss of a baby. Being grateful is not a knee-jerk response in such circumstances. But God is good. He provided the mental discipline. With a cry for help, I began to be thankful:

"I'm thankful that I have morphine. I'm thankful for pain management. I'm thankful I'm not in a third world country. I'm thankful that the sun is shining. I'm thankful for this glass of cold water. I'm thankful that my sheets are clean..."

And once I started, it was almost as though I could not stop. Thankfulness just bubbled up and out, resulting in a peace and joy which pass all understanding.

What are your prayers characterized by? Do you consistently pray in thanksgiving to God? Or is He merely someone we go to when we want something. Are we actively thanking God for those he has placed in our lives? For our circumstances? For blessings? For trials?

Joni Earickson Tada, one of the great women who I consider a spiritual mentor, though I've never met her, said, “I’m grateful for my quadriplegia. It is a bruising of a blessing. A gift wrapped in black. It’s the shadowy companion that walks with me daily, pulling and pushing me into the arms of my Savior…”

Grateful for quadriplegia. Grateful for suffering. Grateful for the small, countless blessings which our Lord provides.

Ingratitude is a thief of joy.

Joy... Can Come In Trials

Well, it’s all very well, and good to wake up one morning, say, “I’m going to be joyful
today.”
It’s a completely different thing to actually successfully live with joy. Fifteen minutes after you’ve finished a beautifully crafted prayer on the subject, you find yourself grumpy at your husband for finishing off the milk, and gloomy because you have nothing to wear, and after all, no one really cares about you, do they?

Over the next couple of days, we're going to look at 3 passages in which joy is more completely unwrapped. I’m hoping to give you a list of 7 ways to actively pursue joy, because when it comes to daily battles, the bigger the arsenal, the better. Let’s start with James 1: 2-4.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

Joy can come in trials. As we saw yesterday, joy is not a product of our circumstances. Joy exists in spite of our circumstances. Trials are brought into our lives to develop maturity, to make us more like Christ.

I have no idea what you are facing: lost job, exhaustion, physical difficulties, a spiritual drought, death, a feeling of helplessness... I don't know. And I can't understand what you are suffering or the pain which you are encountering. Your cloud may be very, very black.

But here's what I do know. You are in that cloud because it is good. Not candy canes and roses good, but conforming into Christ's likeness good. Romans teaches us "that for those who love God all things work together for good... he also predestined [them] to be conformed to the image of his Son." "Good" does not equal pleasure. "Good" equals changing us to be like Christ.

The grace with which you accept a trial is directly tied to how great your desire is to conform to Christ’s likeness.

Rejoicing through a trial develops "steadfastness." Steadfastness is not to be discounted… you learned things about Christ in your first trial as a Christian, which you now take for granted. You cannot buy lessons and growth. Your trials teach you things about Christ, your God, which you could not, and would not learn any other way. Continued steadfastness results in a faithful, consistent, growing life…and you will be perfect, and not lacking anything. (In heaven!)

Okay, so joy’s not dependent on circumstances, and these trials are useful in conforming us to Christ. Christ our Savior was also tested and Hebrew tells us this "perfected" our already perfect Savior. If Christ, the spotless lamb of God had to suffer, who am I to say that I don't need the same lessons?

The Bible Says Joy Is...

The word “rejoice” in my convicting I Thessalonian’s verse "Rejoice always" is the Greek word “chairo” which occurs 75 other times in the New Testament. The word for “joy” is the Greek word “charah” which appears 59 times in the New Testament. Clearly, joy is a well documented part of the New Testament church. But what is joy?

The proverbial Webster’s states that joy is “the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good
fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires”

So apparently, these people in the New Testament had multiple encounters with well-being, success, and good fortune...

Acts 5:40-41 when they had called in the apostles, they beat them and charged them not to speak in the name of Jesus, and let them go. Then they left the presence of the council, rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name.

II Corinthians 7:4 “Great is my confidence in you; great is my boasting on your behalf. I am filled with comfort ; I am overflowing with joy in all our affliction.”

I Thessalonians 1:6 You also became imitators of us and of the Lord, having received the word in much tribulation with the joy of the Holy Spirit,

Hebrews 10:34 For you showed sympathy to the prisoners and accepted joyfully the seizure of your property

James 1:2 Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials

Philippians 2:17 But even if I am being poured out as a drink offering upon the sacrifice and service of your faith, I rejoice and share my joy with you all.

Colossians 1:24 Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake

I Peter 4:13 but to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ, keep on rejoicing,

Do you get it?! Joy in the New Testament is not a result of Webster's "well-being, success, and good fortune." Look at what these baby believers went through! They were threatened, beaten, and plagued with affliction. These individuals went through suffering so acute it was labeled "tribulation." They're property was seized and confiscated. And they had joy. Paul speaks of joy as his life is literally spilling out of him.

How?

Because joy is not an emotion. Joy is not dependent on the circumstances of life.  Joy is a fruit of the Spirit, and just like self-control, patience, and kindness, it must be cultivated, through the help of the Holy Spirit in each believer's life.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

From this passage in Galatians we know two things:
1. we need the Holy Spirit to accomplish any of these qualities
2. There is sacrificing of the flesh which must go hand-in-hand with the Spirit. The next verse states, “and those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.”
We've determined that joy is a spiritual discipline which is lacking in our depression riddled world and church. We know that joy is not dependent on our circumstances. Joy is a fruit of the Holy Spirit which must be cultivated.

How?

Joy? How?

Every year in the United States 19 million people, over the age of 18, are affected by depression. Of these 19 million, 12 million are women. Clinical studies tell us that approximately 1 in 8 women in America, will develop clinical depression in their life time. Women experience depression at approximately 2x the rate that men do.

I grew up in a Christian family. I was saved at an early age, and the gift of joy seemed to bubble out naturally as a result of Christ's saving work. Throughout elementary school and high school, I had the typical fluctuation in moods (perhaps even more than typical, given my dramatic nature), but my joyful bubbliness would soon resurface with little, to no effort from myself. God is good.

However, when I began college, and then even more so as I entered graduate school, I began to battle increasingly black moods. The joy would still peak through, but it was very conditional on my circumstances. (And circumstances during the lean, stressful college years were not always favorable.) I had brief, passing thoughts of how lovely it would be to die. I battled chronic health problems which drained my energy and delight in life. I was to survive. No more. No less. In graduate school my fear of man kept me in constant turmoil as I was evaluated over and over and over again.

I was a joyless, bitter, miserable mess.

I was "depressed."

Depression is not, in and of itself, the cause. Depression is the fruit. And each time, standing in the midst of the blackness and pity, depression is a fog, I saw two things: women who lived their lives with passionate joy and I Thessalonians 5:16: “Rejoice always.” This is not a suggestion. It is a command. God commands us to be joyful.

God does not give commands that He does not also provide the strength to follow. “for His commands are not burdensome,” (I John 5:3) So I am clearly called to be joyful... but how?

How am I to "rejoice" and cultivate joy?

Psalm 16:11

"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."

 This week, I'm starting a new series on the blog. Born of countless hours battling for joy, studying God's word, and organizing information, I developed a very short summation of joy.

Joy is listed as a fruit of the Spirit, meaning it ranks with self-control and kindness in terms of developed, faithfully practiced actions. Joy is a discipline born of conscious work and effort. However, we frequently view joy as something which ebbs and flows. Something incontrolable that we just hope to fall into. Those are our "good days"-- when we're joyful. And I would argue that it's possible to have "good days" every day.

Welcome to the "Discipline of Joy"!