I’ve been literally engrossed in John Ortberg’s book, The Life You’ve Always Wanted. He can tell a story like nobody else. His is the often used anecdote about the grandson who desired more than anything to beat his grandmother at the game of Monopoly. It seems Grandma was the champ of champs. The grandson all but took a graduate level course in Monopoly Maneuvers to accomplish the feat, and the day came when he left Poor Grandma penniless and stripped of her real estate holdings. Grandma congratulated him on the mastery of the game, then told him he had one last lesson to learn – the one that mattered most.“When the game is over, it all goes back in the box.” He knew immediately the message was about more than Monopoly. At the end of life, we leave behind all the worldly possessions we have spent our efforts and lives accumulating. Such a thought can make an afternoon fishing with a grandson or a cup of coffee with a friend or time spent building a relationship suddenly seem like the real priority of the day. So I tend to be a Martha at times, too – but I’m trying not to be.
The Ortberg book I am now reading spends several chapters talking about the spiritual disciplines of things we may not always think of as “disciplines.” - like slowing down, celebrating life, discovering real joy, practicing real and meaningful prayer, receiving guidance from the Holy Spirit. I think I read the “joy” chapter twice because I saw the concept in a whole new way. Joy is part of God’s character and heart. C.S. Lewis said, “Joy is the serious business of heaven.”I had written in my July letter from the editor about my recent plague of anxiety, and I really did cling to the joy chapter as though there were some secret formula there that would cure my anxiety. I have so wanted to not be anxious anymore because anxiety steals my joy. It prevents me from living in the moment – and life gives an abundance of rich moments to just be still and enjoy.
I had just read the chapter on joy a few days before Charles and I took a day trip to Hernando and Memphis to visit children and grandchildren. Late in the afternoon, the weather was unseasonably cool for July. We were sitting under the trees in daughter Natalie’s backyard watching grandson Evan play. Evan is almost three and he was simply born happy.
That afternoon, however, he was even happier than usual. He was like a motorized energized wind-up toy as he ran from swings to sandbox to tree house to tool bench to riding toy. About every thirty seconds he turned to shout, “Papa, Papa, watch me!” Where ever he was and whatever he was doing, he wanted to be sure his grandfather was attentive and pleased with his accomplishments. My first thoughts were, “This is what joy is supposed to look like for all of us. Free, content, and delighting in the sheer presence and relationship with our Heavenly Father.
Evan has not lived long enough to develop a few lasting scars from inevitable hurts that will come someday – as they do to most human beings. Something about those bumps in the road steal a little of our joy – but they should not steal it permanently or cause us to forget the reality of those early moments when we knew the Father was watching and delighting in the relationship we shared together.Watching Evan that afternoon, however, made my own heart a little lighter and little freer and a little more joyful to simply be alive. I was reminded of Jesus’ words about the little children. “Of such is the kingdom of God.” I realized “real” joy can happen when we pay attention to the amazing gift that is called life and the very simple and special blessing of sharing it with those we love. Jesus did say, “A little child shall lead them.”
Evan taught me that life ought not be so complicated.
