Nehemiah 8:9-12 Then Nehemiah the governor, Ezra the priest and scribe, and the Levites who were instructing the people said to them all, "This day is sacred to the LORD your God. Do not mourn or weep." For all the people had been weeping as they listened to the words of the Law.
10 Nehemiah said, "Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength."
11 The Levites calmed all the people, saying, "Be still, for this is a sacred day. Do not grieve."
12 Then all the people went away to eat and drink, to send portions of food and to celebrate with great joy, because they now understood the words that had been made known to them.
Ben talked about the joy of the Lord being our strength a couple weeks ago. Ever since then, the idea of joy strengthening us is something I’ve been mulling over. How is joy supposed to strengthen us? What’s more, it isn’t even OUR joy that does the strengthening, but the Lord’s? What does that mean? How does that work?
I think the key is to remember that we, as God’s beloved, did not first love God. God first loved us, and gave Himself for us. We can’t initiate love or joy with God, because God’s already done it for us. Its like trying to race the sun to the horizon – its been doing a lot better job of it for a lot longer, and we can’t possibly keep up. God pursues, God seeks, God initiates love. He is blessed beyond measure who realizes he’s in the enviable position of being the focus of such a love, and humbly responds. We don’t find God; He finds us. And His unbridled joy at gaining us is unmatched in all the worlds of all the galaxies of His loving creation. We can find strength in the Lord’s rejoicing, from a faith that understands the grand scale of God’s relentless pursuit of us. Against such an all-encompassing devotion, all the terror-inducing tempests around us get the volume turned down.
I am reminded of a story I was told as a young boy by my preacher. After 25 years, I’m still choking back the tears at the innocence & lovingkindess found there…..
There was an 8-year old boy who set himself to building a toy boat. No mere passing interest to the task, the young would-be carpenter set to boatbuilding with all the meticulous care & attention of a major Atlantic coast shipyard. After two weeks carefully carving the wooden hull, he spent two more sanding and attaching the cockpit & tiny rudder with glue. He carefully trimmed & lay each board of the popsicle-stick decking, and painted the whole creation bright red & black. The final flourish was assembling & placing the main mast, complete with a white cotton sail & twine rigging. A finely crafted vessel, a labor of love over two months in the making. And love his creation, the young craftsman most certainly did.
After the paint had dried, the boy proudly placed the boat in the basket of his shiny blue Schwinn bicycle & carried it down to the ocean for her maiden voyage. From the moment her miniature hull touched the water, the sail did its job and set her in motion efficiently. But a sudden gust of wind from inland caught the tiny sail, pushing the little boat down shore & over one wave, then another. Unable to swim but hoping to dive in should the waves once again divert his creation to shore, the boy ran parallel to the efficient white sail down the shore for almost a mile. But then, another gust of wind took the boat off its course, over another wave, then out to sea. Out of the little boy’s reach. Out of the little boy’s life. For over two hours, as the sun peeked below the horizon, the tear-stained eyes of the boy fixated on the tiny white cotton sail until he could see it no more. He walked home beside his shiny blue Schwinn bike, heartbroken & dejected.
That did not dissuade the boy, however. Every day, he made his way back to that same stretch of beach on his shiny blue Schwinn, scanning from shoreline to horizon for his precious creation. He left no dune unchecked, no fishing dock or trash bin un-inspected, no beach umbrella unmoved. He talked to lifeguards and interviewed the regulars who visited the beach. He checked every day with the beach prospectors, their Sears & Roebuck metal detectors clicking & buzzing in the Atlantic breeze. He posted “LOST” signs with a xeroxed Polaroid snapshot of the wayward vessel. Still no sign of his red-hulled beauty, lost on her maiden voyage. Seemingly lost forever.
Some months later, the same boy was riding his bike along the boardwalk, on his usual after-school reconnaissance of the beachfront mall. Passing one of the many shop windows, the boy skidded the shiny blue Schwinn to a halt at the sight in a consignment shop window: a small red & black toy boat. HIS toy boat. The sail was weathered & torn in one place, the hull scratched. The rudder looked undamaged and true, but the twine rigging he had spent 4 days getting just right was all but gone. No matter: in a flash, the bike was on its kickstand & the boy was marching into the shop, pushing through boardwalk shoppers and right up to the front counter. “That’s MY boat! In the window!” he yelled at the shop owner. The shop owner reacted first with alarm, then bewilderment. He explained to the boy that a fisherman had found the boat a few days before, miles out to sea & still headed for parts unknown. He had brought it in to the shop to use as barter for a spool of heavy duty fishing line. And although he was inclined to believe the young boy’s zeal, the shop owner couldn’t rightly just give away such a finely crafted object. Why, only hours before, a businessman on his lunch break had expressed interest in purchasing the boat for a very generous amount, and would be back after 5 o’clock with the money. With no cash in his pocket to outbid for the boat, the boy’s excitement turned to despair at the thought of rediscovering his beloved boat, only to lose it again. He cast his anxious eyes toward the boat- albeit in less than pristine condition, it was no less priceless in the eyes of its creator. He then shifted on his heel to consider the shiny blue Schwinn bicycle with the basket outside...
Moments later, walking out of the shop, down the boardwalk and toward home, the boys face transformed from its usually thoughtful and meticulous demeanor to animated laughter and tears of joy streaming down his face. His bicycle now sitting in the shopkeeper’s window, the boy felt nonetheless victorious. “Now I KNOW you’re mine!” he exclaimed to the weathered & worn toy boat, cradled safely in its creator’s arms “because first I created you, then I searched high and low until I found you, and now I’ve bought & paid for you!”
That, my seafaring friends, is a taste of what the joy of the Lord is like. We can find strength in a God whose singular, exquisite joy is found in us. US! Imperfect, mortal, sinful us!
We can find courage in a God who understands our weaknesses, who knows what its like to face dark seas and foreboding skies.
…to sail on during the mind-numbing monotony of late nights & early mornings.
…to stay the course with sore backs and bone-tired hands to the helm.
…to weather the death of loved ones, and understand the brevity that only mortality can teach us.
Yes, even in trials, misunderstandings, being overworked & underappreciated, overlooked & under-loved, joy can be found if we remember our position as the child God gave His EVERYTHING to save!
Can joy do anything but fill us to overflowing when we understand that our Father has no greater treasure than His children, that the storms we endure are but momentary compared to eternity in His arms, and even the tempest’s waves will carry us there if we will but trust Him and stay afloat?
There was an eBay commercial a couple years back that depicting this story in very similar fashion. I have included it here as a bit of entertainment. Also, I think the guy’s face at the end really captures the wonder & amazement that I imagine God has when He rescues another of His much-loved children.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uNt778cU20&NR=1
May the overwhelming joy of being found by such a gentle loving God as ours fill your hearts, and give you strength in your storms.
Love always,
Jason
“Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.” - Psalm 51:12
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