"Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, ye have been put to grief in manifold trials."
These fountains of spiritual joy shoot into the light at most startling places. Their favorite haunt is the heart of the desert.
A present rejoicing in the midst of grief! I never expected to find a fountain in so unpromising a waste.
"My joy!" And yet Calvary loomed twenty-four hours away! I never anticipated hearing the joy bells at Calvary's base, in full view of shame and crucifixion.
"They received the word in much affliction, with joy in the Holy Ghost." A mysterious, yet glorious wedlock.
Not joy despite the grief. Joy inside the grief. The two coexist — because joy is not conditioned by the grief. It is conditioned by the thought of who God is. Jesus said "My joy" with Calvary twenty-four hours away. Le says "blessed be God" with the boxes piling. The fountain is the same. The desert is different. The water is living.
When shadows settle and experiences darken, the night is not without its illuminating presence. The place of the midnight is to be as "the land of the midnight sun."
There shall be light enough to read the promises, to see my way, and to perceive the gracious presence of my Lord.
The funeral knell may toll in the outer rooms, while in the most secret places may be heard the joy bells of trustful communion with God.
Not blazing noon. Not the sun at its height. But light enough. Light enough to read the promises. Light enough to see the way. The funeral knell in the outer rooms — the joy bells in the secret places. The surface grief. The deep joy. Both real. Both present. But the joy outlasts the grief — because the grief is temporal and the joy is eternal.
Happiness is the resultant of sensations, the ephemeral product of sensationalisms, having the uncertain life of the things on which it depends.
Joy is the product of deep, quiet, steady, appropriate thought. Thought provides the oxygen in which the bright, cheery flame of love is sustained.
"As I mused, the fire burnt."
Let mind and heart make their home in the spacious thoughts of God, and there will be born a glow which will not be chilled by any transient cloud, nor extinguished by the storms of the most tempestuous night.
Joy is the product of deep, quiet, steady, appropriate thought. Thought provides the oxygen in which the flame of love is sustained. The joy of the Lord is my strength.
Happiness depends on what happens. Joy depends on what the soul thinks about. The farmer who wants whatever weather God sends is not happy. He is joyful. The difference is the thought behind the experience.
As I mused, the fire burnt. Psalm 39:3. The musing IS the fuel. The thought IS the oxygen. Fifty-six mornings of deep, quiet, steady, appropriate thought — Kempis, Augustine, Liguori, Jowett — and the flame has not gone out. Because the Fountain does not store. It flows fresh every morning.
The joy of the Lord is my strength. Nehemiah 8:10. Not happiness. Not sensation. The joy OF the Lord — shared with the soul who thinks deeply about who He is. That joy is the strength. Not willpower. Not effort. The joy itself is the power.
"Joy is the product of deep, quiet, steady, appropriate thought. As I mused, the fire burnt. The joy of the Lord is my strength."
J.H. Jowett · Le's Heart · Caldas da Rainha · Day fifty-six · The fountain in the sandThe Fountain in the Desert
Joy bursts through the sand. Its haunt is the heart of the desert. Rejoicing in the midst of grief. The fountain in the unpromising waste.
The Midnight Sun
The night is not without light. Light enough to read the promises. The funeral knell outside — the joy bells in the secret places.
As I Mused, the Fire Burnt
Happiness depends on sensations. Joy depends on thought. The musing is the fuel. The flame fed by God is not extinguished by the storm.
The Joy of the Lord
Not happiness. Not sensation. The joy OF the Lord — shared with the soul who thinks deeply. That joy is the strength itself.