Most surprising to me in my reflections on joy was the notion that God is joyous. That seems beneath him. That seems to make him into a cold hearted God, indifferent to the sufferings of this world. Jesus was, after all, a man of sorrow and acquainted with grief.
Hymnology provided a phrase that captivated me. From the seventeenth century hymn, "Jesus Priceless Treasure", comes the thought, "Banish then all sadness, for the Lord of gladness, Jesus, enters in."
The writer knew suffering beyond our 2009 fare. For though we share the usual round of human adversity, we live in homes and go about in a style that not even kings of that era enjoyed. Out of a daily life of difficulty, he spoke of the presence of Lord of gladness -- and his presence banishing all sadness. He tells us that Jesus, where present and when trusted, is like the sun burning away the fog of despair.
This still seemed to me to be far fetched -- how can God be glad when the world is so full of sin?
More help came. John Piper writes of the happiness of God. What he means is that God is working everything according to his plan and everything is on course. Therefore he is happy. He delights in his perfect wisdom and desires being executed. But still, this sort of gladness seemed to make me a pawn in the plan.
Then I came across Lewis' masterful The Great Divorce. It trumpets joy as the inheritance of heaven. Lewis was drawn to Christ through a quest for joy, and it seems he had a grace given insight into the matter. As is often the case, poets use pictures to brighten what theologians mumble about. Chapter after chapter painted joy with bold and artistic colors.
Then came the key thought: how can there be joy in heaven while so many perish? Ah, I thought, that is exactly my question? How can God be joyful when there are people dying in sin -- and he takes no pleasure in the death of the wicked? How can I be joyful when my own sin, and the sin and suffering of people around me, abounds?
Lewis answer is bold and clear. He writes that this is "the demand of the loveless and the self-imprisoned that they should be allowed to blackmail the universe." Wow, joylessness was rebellion. It is a demand, says he, by the rebels "that till they consent to be happy (on their own terms) no one else shall taste joy; that theirs should be the final power; that Hell should be able to veto heaven."
I can see myself, the pouting child, blackmailing the family at diner until I get my way.
Then Lewis gets to the bottom line: "either the day must come when joy prevails and all the makers of misery are no longer able to infect it; or else forever and ever the makers of misery can destroy in others the happiness they reject for themselves."
There it was. God was joyous in the face of our rebellion because God will not be held hostage by our sin. It does not mean he does not grieve for our sin, only that our stubborn rejection of the good which He is will not quench his joy. Jesus is the Lord of gladness, who went about offering his joy to all who would come, who wept that many would not come, but whose joy was unpolluted by our sin.
That sort of joy in that sort of Savior was intoxicating, humbling, and elevating. . . . and needed to be applied
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