Anybody ever been snipe hunting?
No, it’s okay. You can admit it, if you have. (If you haven’t, it’s really cool. You should totally do it if you get the chance.)
At some point every year, I feel like I’m on a desperate hunt for joy. And it seems to be as elusive as those stupid snipes.
I’ve always been drawn to the word JOY. When I see it on Christmas decorations, something stirs in me. A strange sense of intrigue, urgency and even entitlement. I know that somehow it’s supposed to be mine. But always remains just out of reach.
A couple years ago when hunting season came around, I began taking and posting pictures of the word JOY every day. It was like a private scavenger hunt and I began looking for it wherever I went. I figured if the word was there, the concept had to be somewhere nearby.
I wrapped up my workday around 5:30 yesterday. I walked away from my laptop, my brain spinning and walked downstairs to rejoin humanity. I was immediately met with an onslaught of questions and requests.
Being a true codependent, I LOVE feeling needed. But right at that moment, I wanted to be invisible.
I looked Brad in the eyes and declared, “I am going to make a drink, go in there, look at the tree and listen to some Christmas music. You’re welcome to join me.”
He got it. “And no talking?” he clarified, attempting to hide a smirk.
“No. Talking,” I retorted over my shoulder.
I put my Andrew Peterson ‘Behold the Lamb of God’ DVD in the player (he’s doing his Christmas concert here in Orlando at University Pres tomorrow night) and curled up on the couch, clutching my vodka and cranberry juice in a death grip. The comforting, familiar music began and I alternately closed my eyes to drink in the songs and then opened them to gaze into the lights on the Christmas tree.
Brad sat down next to me and a few overwhelmed tears escaped my eyes. I ignored them. Brad patted my leg but honored his vow of silence.
After a few songs and a few sips, my faculties began to return. I talked a little about my day, mainly trying to dig out the good parts, the interesting parts that were buried in the chaos. We shared a few peaceful moments before the timer went off and signaling dinner was ready. Then it was game on again.
And things show no sign of slowing down. (Although I do need to be more intentional about creating that precious ‘margin’ we’re always lecturing our kids about and I regularly preach to my clients.) I’ll have to continue my joy hunt in the storm. (Fine. The cold never bothered me anyway …. mainly because we’re in Florida.)
In my Scroogey/Grinchy moments, I wish we could celebrate Jesus’ birthday just like we do everybody else’s. You know, go out to dinner at Outback or Chili’s or Ale House or wherever He wants, come home, open presents, blow out the candle, hand out the cupcakes and milk and be done with it.
Isn’t that horrible? God Himself comes to earth in the flesh to save my scrawny soul and all I want to offer Him is a Bloomin’ Onion.
But He knows it’s not coming from an ungrateful heart. It’s just because sometimes I feel like that’s all I have.
And then of course, I remember The Little Drummer Boy, which is my Christmas jam. I get that song going on repeat in the car and let the words wash over my heart again and again and again.
He showed up and played that drum. It was all he had. And it was enough. It got a smile from the newborn King.
So back to my joy hunting. Like I said, you see the word everywhere you go this time of year. I certainly have it all over MY house, but the meaning, the feeling isn’t in those three letters.
SO WHERE THE HELL IS IT?! I was bemoaning my fruitless search and remembered an old VBS song.
I’ve got that joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.
WHERE?!
Down in my heart.
WHERE?!
Down in my heart.
Down in my heart, huh? Are you sure? Um, if that’s where it’s supposed to be, I probably need to take out an ad on a milk carton. You mean I shouldn’t be looking for it outside of myself?
You mean it’s not in the Christmas tree (there are a zillion ornaments that say JOY)?
And it’s not in the The Little Drummer Boy on repeat in the car?
And it’s not at the Christmas parties, with or without uncomfortable shoes?
Well, then surely it’s in the new Star Wars spinoff movie coming out this month.
Or watching the kids open presents.
Or belting out my favorite Christmas songs in the shower. (I don’t mind going for the high notes when no one else is home.)
Or watching Elf, Ernest Saves Christmas, A Charlie Brown Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street (the old black and white one, please) or It’s a Wonderful Life.
Or the candlelight Christmas Eve service, trying not to drip wax on the carpet.
All those things make me happy. All of those things are outward circumstances beyond my control. And we all know they can turn on a dime.
Tree ornaments break.
Strands of lights go out.
The Mall at Millenia turns into a war zone.
Dresses and budgets are too tight.
Missing loved ones dig up crushing levels of grief.
We only get our kids half of Christmas break.
Anxiety and depression levels spike.
SO WHERE IS THE FREAKIN’ JOY? ‘Down in my heart’? What is THAT supposed to mean?
Sigh. Actually, I know what it means. I know EXACTLY what it means.
Happiness comes from this world. Joy comes from the OTHER world, the REAL world waiting for me when my time comes. (Are we there yet?) It came down as a Baby one night, lived a perfect life and died a sinner’s death. And after He went home, He sent the Holy Spirit, not to walk with us, but to live IN us.
Jesus is the source of all joy. And through the Holy Spirit, it’s down in my heart. The quarry I seek won’t be found outside of my relationship with Christ.
Charlie Brown faced a similar existential Christmas crisis and Linus gently spoke words of peace and, yes, joy into his anxious heart.
If I really want to find joy, I must stop the Christmas craziness from making me shake in my sandals and start walking toward the star, toward the newborn King, the source of all joy. Joy so explosive that the angels in heaven could contain themselves no longer at the wonder of God’s perfect plan and lit up the night sky in wild celebration.
That is where the search for joy ends, at the manger, in the dark sleepy eyes of my baby Savior. And unlike those sneaky snipes, He WANTS to be found. He WANTS the hunt to end with our success.
In some ways, the hunt gets wearying year after year. In other ways, the chase makes me want it even more. I just need to put down my gunny sack and pick up Luke 2.
And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid.” (Always good to lead with that.) “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
In other words: Here is your joy.
Go get it.
