The theme for our time in Uganda has been transformation.
The Lord has revealed this word to many of my team members but it has manifested itself in different ways for each of us. God has laid several of His truths on my heart to begin this process but there is one that has taken precedence lately. One fruit of the Spirit in particular He is pushing me to produce.
Joy.
Joy that is only conceivable and attainable because the stone has been rolled away.
I've been blessed in this second country with the opportunity to teach in a primary school. When I walk into that worn, brick room the eyes of my students light up. Laughter echoes and dark, dirty faces juxtapose shining, white grins as they jump with excitement. I do fractions for hours, occasionally stopping for breaks to show them a song, share a verse, or let them dance. It's beyond incredible and has made my heart so happy.
And I'm convinced these children are teaching me more than I could ever write on any chalkboard. Their sweaters are worn. Their books are far past damaged. Some are orphans, some have HIV, some have no idea how basic provisions will be met today. Yet all are filled with delight in the Lord. All are brimming – even overflowing – with jubilation in identity as God's beloved. All possess a permanent spirit of pleasure in Him.
The joy that we're called to is so much better than the happiness we so often pursue. To be happy is to find contentment in one's circumstances. It is momentary bliss due to desirable conditions stumbled upon in the world. There is nothing wrong with happiness, yet this bliss is fleeting. It is uncontrollable and changes frequently with disregard to me or you.
Joy is different.
As described in 1 Peter 1:8-9, it is much greater than mere happiness. Joy is a result of perspective. A perspective rooted in belief realized by the Cross. It is constant because no matter the present circumstances, we can still rejoice in the knowledge that we have inheritance with Christ.
It calls for a glad heart despite having no mother or father. It means rejoicing in the midst of a terminal disease. It commands a delight in the soul even when one's basic needs go unmet.
This is what we as followers of Jesus are called to embody. A spirit that always rejoices no matter how happy we might be in the present. A Gospel such as ours not only invites this; it demands such a mentality. For we have a treasure found in the most beautiful and elegant love story no circumstances could ever produce.
Our joy is recognized by the promise found in our redemption.
My Ugandan kids have opened my eyes wider and enhanced my heart's grasp for what this truly entails.
Our faith doesn't call for just any type of joy.
It calls for a transformational joy.
