"Numbers begins with Moses preparing the people for a trip to joy that would have taken eleven days if they had taken Leviticus to heart and concerned themselves more with holiness than comfort.
More than two million people set out, excited and happy. A short blast on two silver trumpets got them together, then one long blast got them marching. Everything was in place, everyone had a job, just like a happy family driving to Disney World or a growing church meeting for the first time in their new building. From its starting point, the road to joy looks smooth as far as the eye can see." 66 LLSo much potential! In the first four chapters, the People of Israel did everything they were told. (1:54, 2:34, 3:51, 4:49) Great start, Israelites!
The atmosphere reminds me of weddings and graduations and births, when the excitement is palpable, everything seems possible and people are cooperative. It's all the fun before you have to deal with bad breath and tight finances, finding a real job and paying your own insurance, and nighttime feedings and incessant crying. You know, before REALITY sets in.
But we know the rest of this story. The excitement is about to turn into complaining, nothing will seem possible, and the people won't cooperate with God or each other. The eleven day journey to the land flowing with milk and honey will stretch into 40 long years of wandering in the desert.
So much for that smooth road to joy!
I'm reading Ann Voskamp's new book, One Thousand Gifts (and loving it!), and she has some insight about why we don't always experience joy in our daily lives.
"In this wilderness, I keep circling back to this: I'm blind to joy's well every time I really don't want it. The well is always there. And I choose not to see it. Don't I really want joy? Don't I really want the fullest life? For all my yearning for joy, longing for joy, begging for joy - is the bald truth that I prefer the empty dark? Prefer drama? Why do I lunge for control instead of joy? Is it somehow more perversely satisfying to flex control's muscle? Ah - power - like Satan. Do I think Jesus-grace too impotent to give me the full life? Isn't that the only reason I don't always swill the joy? If the startling truth is that I don't really want joy, there's a far worse truth. If I am rejecting the joy that is hidden somewhere deep in this moment - am I not ultimately rejecting God? Whenever I am blind to joy's well, isn't it because I don't believe in God's care? That God cares enough about me to always offer me joy's water, wherever I am, regardless of circumstance. But if I don't believe God cares, if I don't want or seek the joy He definitely offers somewhere in this moment - I don't want God." pg. 130
"In His presence is fullness of joy...I know I can't experience deep joy in God until I deep trust in God...[I realize] that trusting God is my most urgent need...You have to want to see the well before you can drink from it. You have to want to see joy, God in the moment." pg. 130, 148This spoke to me. Although I long for joy, I often desire control - for things to go my way - even more. And that sinful habit is a barrier to joy, to intimate fellowship with God, and in my relationships with others.
Yet God very simply offers me His fullness of joy if only I will choose to fully trust Him with everything. I often fall into the trap of thinking that my level of joy is dependent on my circumstances, instead of my choices. It's not true. God tells us that true joy is only found in His Presence, by trusting and abiding in Him. (John 15, Galatians 5:22-23)
I continue to discover that the road to joy isn't always smooth, direct, or even what I expected. But I'm grateful that today I see the road a little more clearly. Lord, I pray for eyes to see You in every moment and a heart willing to fully trust You regardless of circumstances.
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