I had, for too many days, taken up residence in a land of despair.
It might be the consecutive days of over 100 degrees at the end of summer. It might be the result of those extreme temperatures as another reminder we’ve run out of time to do anything substantial to combat global warming. It might be the start of another school year that brings a reminder that a well-funded effort exists to destroy public education in America.
It might be that a former– and multiple indicted –U.S. president remains the front-runner for his party’s presidential nomination. It might be another column from a minister explaining why they left the church.
Regardless of the reason, I felt like I’d settled in Despairville. I sat at my desk wondering if our well-meaning work on issues at the intersection of faith and culture really makes a difference in the world.
And then, Missy’s two little second cousins came for a visit.
I had been tempted to start thinking like Yahweh after bringing the Hebrews out of Egypt. When Yahweh discovered the Hebrews liked certainty–even if it meant a return to slavery–over faith, the Lord was ready to burn everything to the ground (Exodus 32:9-10).
Maybe Yahweh was correct? Maybe the world as we know it needs to end and be rebuilt?
But then, just as in the story (32:11-14), Moses-like figures drive their hope vehicles straight through Despaireville, convincing us that not all is lost. And in fact, if we pay well enough attention, we can still find joy.
For me, my Moses-like figures were Missy’s cousins. The two young girls came to Oklahoma over the Labor Day weekend, bringing their parents up from Texas.
For three days, we played and laughed. We went out for ice cream and visited a local bookstore. We tried to overcome our fear of a dog and we colored beautiful images in a coloring book.
It was their approach to the coloring book that reminded me of a valuable lesson.
At first, I tried to color inside the lines, making sure every stroke with the Crayola was made with purpose and precision. It was the little sister who questioned my method: “Mitch, do you like coloring with me?” “I very much do,” I responded.
Looking slightly suspicious, she remarked, “You spend too much time looking at the picture.” She wasn’t wrong. Her message hit me right between the eyes.
If you spend too much time looking at the problems, you can forget to experience the joy right beside you. Lesson sent. Lesson learned.
From that moment forward, I began to color outside the lines, asking for her evaluation. “It’s beautiful!” she told me.
I decided to no longer play by the rules, turning hair multi-colors and arms blue. And who says your eyes have to be the same color? One green and the other purple were just fine.
The sisters and I had so much fun once the lines were blurred. Not being so rigid helped me to loosen up and enjoy the moment.
Life can be so difficult these days. It can be so hard to find joy in a sea of despair.
However, if we stop and set aside the rules for a moment, we might discover the joy we need–not the joy we think we want– but the joy we truly need.
Jesus bent rigid rules all the time. He understood that by coloring inside the lines, you were letting others dictate your peace and joy. Jesus lived outside those lines (which were really barriers), and by doing so, he brought joy to himself and so many others.
Mark Twain once quipped, “Comparison is the death of joy.”
For the remainder of the long weekend, the girls and I did not compare one drawing. We only affirmed and enjoyed each other’s work. And the pictures we made together were the best. Again, Twain says, “To get the full value of joy, you must have someone to divide it with.”
If you reside in Despairville this week, as I did, I hope a Moses-like person comes your way, encouraging you to color outside the lines and bend the rules. It’s only then you just might find the joy you so desperately need.
