Poor-Man's-Fruit.

I’ve stood in my garden as seasons changed—and waited for joy to come. 

And I felt cheated of it, like it was something I couldn’t simply spiritually mature into my garden. And plain old contentment seemed a poor-man’s-fruit when Christ offered the sweetness of genuine joy.

“looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Hebrews 12:2”

But for the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross. The cross was not His joy. He looked ahead of the cross—to what was to be gained—His Father’s joy, the joy of our redemption, to our joy—and because of that, He counted the cross as a joy. And endured the cross. And despised its shame.

This present loss is not my joy. And it makes this burden of not feeling a certain way less weighty.  For these seasons of searching for joy have only amounted to looking in the wrong directions. Looking in my heart for some elation as proof it exists-- and isn’t just faked; looking for more than just a bud on the branch, more than just a passing glimpse of joy, and I finally found the problem-- that I’ve looked for my own joy, and not to His. 

Joy.

  

Joy is set before me every time I ask, “How can I bring You joy?”

My day may still be hard. My heart may still hurt, but how can God be given the gift of joy that I cannot? And bringing Him joy sets my eyes on Joy itself, on the Eternal: on the Gardener, not the garden, on the Light, on the Living Water, on the One who restores my soul. And truly, I can count that all joy.

  

And those are the things that really tend a joy-fruit garden.

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, ³ knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. ⁴ But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. James 1:2-4”

Our Beautiful Gardener exchanges the gifts of joy we lay at His feet with faith renewed in our hearts. We never leave His feet empty handed.

Together in Grace, 

Amy