by Emily Conrad

 Joy lives at my house, but it’s not what you think.

My grandma fell ill a few days before Christmas, 2019. While she was in the hospital, a gift from one of my out-of-town relatives arrived. The pair of Thanksgiving cactuses, one with white blooms, the other red, came nestled in a decorative planter adorned with the word joy.

The box containing Joy was delivered to Grandma’s cold December doorstep. There, the gift tipped and waited. Wisconsin’s winter gnawed at the fleshy leaves, which were never intended to survive the below-freezing temperatures.

Joy’s leaves and flowers suffered damage before my mom and sister delivered it to Grandma’s hospital room.

Until the bout of pain that led to her admittance to the hospital, my grandmother had been independent and quite healthy. Less than twenty-four hours later, she went on hospice.

Joy brightened her hospital room and bore silent witness to the stories our gathered family shared during our vigil. Though we grieved, we also found grace in those days.

When Grandma left for her heavenly home, Joy remained, an orphan.

My parents packed it up and brought it home. I asked after Joy, and my mom sent the gift with me to tend and, hopefully, grow.

Now, Joy has just finished its second bloom.

The irony of a cactus named Joy isn’t lost on me. Especially since the situation that brought Joy to me is pricklier than the plant.

As believers, we can have joy no matter our circumstances.

But I picture joy as a beautiful gift that arrives in full bloom, encased in a protective box on my doorstep, the way that flowering cactus first arrived at Grandma’s.

If only she’d been home to immediately open the door and bring it in.

She wasn’t. The plant suffered damaged.

Likewise, my joy often seems bruised with loneliness, discouragement, grief, or confusion. Unrealized longings settle over it like frost. As my heart aches with the circumstances I face, I wonder if the damage is too much.

Jesus told His followers they would have trouble in this world.

Each of us knows this truth in our bones.

How can joy survive in this environment?

And yet, as soon as Jesus warns of the trials we all will face, He encourages us to take heart.

I imagine a smile edged with joy lighting His face as He followed the problem with the solution—Himself.

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33, NIV

 Jesus has overcome the world.

His promises endure.

They never arrive damaged and frozen. He will never fail to bring His purposes into full bloom.

No, I don’t have the full realization of all the things I think might produce joy in this life. Grandma and other loved ones are gone, and I miss them. I harbor as-of-yet unfulfilled dreams. The needs of the world daunt me; I’m often helpless even to rescue a hurting friend from a troubling situation.

And yet.

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will be joyful in God my Savior.

The Sovereign Lord is my strength;

he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,

he enables me to tread on the heights.

Habakkuk 3:18-19, ESV

Jesus is Savior. An eternity placed in His hands is secure.

He is our strength, the one who enables us to face any circumstances.

These are the certainties that safeguard the hope of believers. The joy.

When joy seems to wither and die back, it’s a sign that we’ve let our sights settle on our earthly doorsteps rather than our homes in heaven.

Here, yes, we will have troubles.

But Jesus has overcome the world, and He promises us a future where thieves do not come to steal, where moths do not destroy, where flowers don’t freeze, and joy is always in bloom.

 

 

My joy often seems bruised with loneliness, discouragement, #grief, or confusion. Unrealized longings settle over it like frost. As my heart aches, I wonder if the damage is too much. But in Jesus, there is #hope. @emilyrconrad

Jesus told His followers they would have trouble in this world. Each of us knows this truth in our bones. How can #joy survive in this environment? @emilyrconrad #hope

When joy seems to wither and die back, it’s a sign that we’ve let our sights settle on our earthly doorsteps rather than our homes in heaven. @emilyrconrad #joy #hope

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