This rug-turned-wall-hanging graces the space at the bottom of my basement stairway. I see it there, every time I glance down the stairway, every time I descend the stairway. It reminds me.
Today matters.
Today is what I have.
My attitude is something I always get to choose. My happiness is in my own hands. No one else or nothing, apart from Christ, will give me always-and-instant happiness, nor should they shoulder this responsibility.
My head knows this.
My faith believes this.
My “self” doesn’t always comply.
Sometimes and some days, just as in this photo, my “Today I Choose Happy” lurks along the edges, lingers on the sidelines, gets shoved by me into the shadows.
Once, long ago, my little dearie daughter exclaimed in exaggerated tones to her grandparents, “I’ll never be happy again!!” This statement was met with mirth on the grandparent’s part, for adults know that a discontented three-year old proclaiming such, will soon be in giggles and laughter again. And she was!
But what about a thirty-nine year old who might find herself wanting to wallow closer to the words in the three-year old’s statement than focusing on the words of her wall hanging?
I wonder if my wise Father might not smile with a bit of amusement or bend down with tender ear and whisper, “You’re looking through a smokey glass, my dearie daughter. The whole picture isn’t clear yet.”
I read these words recently. “Trust Jesus when everybody seems to be getting a miracle but you. When you feel forsaken and yet remain faithful, you are the miracle.”~@bethmoorelpm,The Quest
Faithfulness is found in the frayed edges. In fingers that won’t let go of their grip on well-worn Bible pages. In prayers, repeated again.
Faithfulness and happiness don’t mean no tears or feelings of sadness, discouragement, overwhelm or hopelessness. Sometimes faithfulness shines best when life isn’t showing up in staggering stardom but instead in the form of stoning martyrdom.
Is God still good when I sit in sackcloth and ashes and boils? Is God still good when my brothers have sold me into slavery? Is God still good when there’s a madman breathing out threatenings and slaughter?
Is God still good when I don’t get what I think I want?
Am I going to choose happy and sing hymns when my back is bleeding and I’m in prison chains?
I’m aspiring to this faithfulness, though I’m afraid I trip and spend more time fallen flat, than I do steadfastly stepping with steady stride along the narrow way.
I flip to 2 Timothy 3:14-15 and brush my fingers across the words. “But as for YOU, continue in what you have learned and become convinced of, because you know those from who you learned it, and how from infancy you have known the holy Scriptures which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ.” {emphasis mine}
Continue. Aspire. Aim. Choose.
“My dear,” He adds, “My strength is made perfect in weakness. On the days when the choosing is hardest, I’ll choose it for you. Don’t let go. I’ll never let you go. Your sighing is not hidden from me. Your whispered longings, hopes and desires are known to my heart. My faithfulness never forsakes.”
And not-so-different than that three-year-old, I smile again.
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