6 minute read
Between Us
from Fall 2021
A PRESCRIPTION FOR ȷoy
by Elizabeth Murphy
Iwas looking for a word to describe the state of my spirit as we begin to move forward post-pandemic.Flowers are blooming, grass is turning green, kids are back in school, and the plane I flew on last weekend was packed. I see hopeful glimpses of normal, and yet I feel stuck. Not bad just not good. As I poured my heart out to a friend recently, her response was, “the word is languish.” It sounded scary until she explained it as the blah I am feeling—the void between depression and flourishing— the absence of well-being. Now it sounded perfect!
When I picture languishing, I see a landscape that is not dark, just dull; not cloudy, just foggy; not lush, just less than—and I see the same in many around me. It seems to be the absence of joy. Joy, used many times in the Bible, is a combination of calm delight and inner gladness. Another definition is the settled assurance that God is in control of all the details of my life, the quiet confidence that ultimately everything is going to be alright, and the determined choice to praise God in every situation. In the face of words like “quiet confidence” and “determined choice,” it is awfully hard to languish.
When Your Spirit Grows Faint
Spiritually speaking, joy cannot be lost, or even stolen, but it can be set aside which happens when we forget how we were created. God designed us to abide in His presence through prayer, worship, and the study of His Word which is where the quiet confidence comes from, but He also put in our hearts particular “joy sources” that are very personal. For some, joy can be sparked back to life by nature and beauty, for others it is physical activity, artistic creativity, and music. I have found joy most recently in a hula hoop, a coloring book, and a candle. It sounds silly, but when I heard in a recent podcast about the idea of writing a prescription for joy, I tried it.
Finding Life Again
When a doctor prescribes antibiotics, he often says to take every pill in the bottle even if you begin to feel better. Don’t stop too soon. I think that is what happened to my joy. I continued to be faithful to my prayer and study of God’s Word, sought worship in new ways, but had forgotten God wanted me to enjoy not only Him, but also the life He had given me.
So many things in this last year have been hard and lonely. I love people better in person, so Zoom has been a lifesaver for keeping in touch, but has provided such a less-than version of life. I enjoy exercise, but my dog gave up walking long before I did in the early days of isolation, and the gym or a class were no longer an option. I love to cook for people and break bread around
the table, but this was off limits. I needed to ask who was willing to receive food from my kitchen instead. Friends and loved ones left this life with sadly scaledback opportunities to grieve. It’s been rough for everyone. In the midst of the heavy losses, a heaviness of heart had settled in and as the psalmist said, “My spirit grew faint within me.” What I needed, and what many of us need, is permission to pursue life again, a prescription for joy to begin the slow process of recovery. We may never return to life as we knew it, but we have a creative God who gave us creative souls planting deep within us the desire to live the abundant life He promised, the question is how.
The Prescription for Recovery
1. Remembering was the first step for my own prescription. Remembering what filled me up, sparked my energy, and lifted my mood. In my case, that meant moving more, creating beauty, and connecting deeply. For example, my granddaughters are learning to hula hoop. It looked like fun and seemed to target all my problem areas, so I tried it. We laughed so hard we cried and one weighted hula hoop later, my abs are sore but I discovered a new form of movement! My goals used to be measured in miles walked and now they are much simpler—hula hoop through every commercial on TV. It is a small step that feels like being kind to myself.
2. Restoring what I could. I used my creativity to sew masks and painted almost every room in my house during what I thought would be a brief time of quarantine, but time dragged on and creating beauty needed a new look. Then my sister showed me a tablecloth that is also a coloring book. Who knew? I met a future family member while socially distanced at opposite ends of the table, wearing masks, and coloring. It was creating beauty in a way I never imagined and relaxingly restorative. I sent a coloring book for adults and colored pencils to my mother-in-law whose comment was, “I was always so good at coloring and had forgotten how much I loved it.” My restored joy sparked a joy in her and hope had a new home.
3. Renewing things I had let go of in the midst of so much change. My love language is words of affirmation so efficient things like texts and emails were soul-soothing, but handwriting somehow speaks with so much more feeling. Renew means “to begin or take up again,” so I started writing notes and letters—real ones with stamps! It was a new version of a constant thing—communication—only rediscovered. To my joy, I started receiving notes back in return.
4. Releasing is probably the most important on my personal list. When the world turned upside-down, it felt as if we had dropped things that can never be picked up again, but the truth is we have. Who knows what our work lives will look like going forward? Who knows if we will ever need lipstick again when masks stop being a kind necessity and if elbow taps will permanently replace handshakes? Who knows what the post-pandemic world will look like and where our joy will come from? God does.
He is not just our Creator, He is our Re-Creator. His infinite imagination combined with His deeply personal love and care for us is what gives us the hope to move forward into a future that has always been uncertain.
Our future is God’s presence and what reminds me anew to trust Him is lighting a candle on the table as I sit with God in the morning. It flickers in my peripheral vision saying to my joy-starved soul, “I am here, always near.” “[I] will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy” (Job 8:21, emphasis added). It gives me the comfort of knowing real joy is never far away and God alone knows what it looks like for me.
Elizabeth Murphy is an author and speaker who longs to connect what we know of God to how we live for God. She has spent years in various ministries and at this phase is writing, learning from those recently released from prison, mentoring younger women, teaching God’s Word, and enjoying an empty nest with Mike, her husband of 36 years. They live in Brookfield, Wis., and have four adult sons, one daughter-in-law, and three granddaughters. Visit her website at elizabethmurphyspeaks.com.
