From page 177-179 ~
Joy is a flame that glimmers only
in the palm of the open and humble hand. In an open and humble palm,
released and surrendered to receive, light dances, flickers happy. The
moment the hand is clenched tight, fingers all pointing toward self and
rights and demands, joy is snuffed out. Anger is the lid that
suffocates joy until she lies limp and lifeless. And for me, it's a cosmic-numbing notion that far eclipses this domestic moment. (She's relating a story of how she got angry when her children were chasing each other in the house and broke the glass of a cabinet door) It speaks to the whole of my life and the vision brands me: The demanding of my
own will is the singular force that smothers out joy—nothing else.
Pride, mine—that beast that pulls on the mask of anger—this is what snaps this hand shut, crushes joy. when I would read Henry Ward Beecher's words later, I'd take it for my own story, so familiar his thoughts: "Pride slays thanksgiving...A proud man is seldom a grateful man, for he never thinks he gets as much as he deserves." Dare I ask what I think I deserve? A life of material comfort? A life free of all trials, all hardships, all suffering? A life with no discomfort, no inconveniences? Are there times that a sense of entitlement—expectations—is what inflates self, detonates anger, offends God, extinguishes joy?
And what do I really deserve? Thankfully, God never gives what is deserved, but instead, God graciously, passionately offers gifts, our bodies, our times, our very lives. God does not give rights but imparts responsibilities—response-abilities—inviting us to respond to His love-gifts. And I know and can feel tight: I'm responding miserably to the gift of this moment. In fact, I'm refusing it. Proudly refusing to accept his moment, dismissing it as no gift at all, I refuse God. I reject God.
I look down at the shattered glass, glass that brings memories, glass that gives me eyes to see in. And I see: I had thought joy's flame needed protecting.
All these years, these angers, these hardenings, this desire to control, I had thought I had to snap the hand closed to shield joy's fragile flame from the blasts. In a storm of struggles, I had tried to control the elements, clasp the fist tight so as to protect self and happiness. But palms curled into protective fists fill with darkness. I feel this sharply, even in this ... and this realization in all it's full emptiness: My own wild desire to protect my joy at all costs is the exact force that kills my joy.
Flames need oxygen to light. Flames need a bit of wind.
All light seen is light from the past and light now old from the sun streams through the windows, glints off the glass shards. Broken glass ignites in light and there it is, the secret of joy's flame: Humbly let go. Let go of trying to do, let go of trying to control... let go of my own way, let go of my own fears. Let God blow His wind, His trials, oxygen for you's fire. Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace. Bend the knee and be small and let God give what God chooses to give because he only gives love ~ and (I) whisper surprised thanks.
This is the fuel for joy's flame. Fullness of joy is discovered only in the emptying of will. And I can empty. I can empty because counting his graces has awakened me to how He cherishes me, holds me, passionately values me I can empty because I am full of His love. I can trust.
I can let go.
Let go of fear, let go of resisting the pain that comes with life, feel it, be real and feel, then open your heart and let Christ come and comfort, He will always come to us if we open our hearts to receive Him.
Here is a talk by President Packer along these lines ~ "Guided by the Holy Spirit"
And what do I really deserve? Thankfully, God never gives what is deserved, but instead, God graciously, passionately offers gifts, our bodies, our times, our very lives. God does not give rights but imparts responsibilities—response-abilities—inviting us to respond to His love-gifts. And I know and can feel tight: I'm responding miserably to the gift of this moment. In fact, I'm refusing it. Proudly refusing to accept his moment, dismissing it as no gift at all, I refuse God. I reject God.
All these years, these angers, these hardenings, this desire to control, I had thought I had to snap the hand closed to shield joy's fragile flame from the blasts. In a storm of struggles, I had tried to control the elements, clasp the fist tight so as to protect self and happiness. But palms curled into protective fists fill with darkness. I feel this sharply, even in this ... and this realization in all it's full emptiness: My own wild desire to protect my joy at all costs is the exact force that kills my joy.
Flames need oxygen to light. Flames need a bit of wind.
All light seen is light from the past and light now old from the sun streams through the windows, glints off the glass shards. Broken glass ignites in light and there it is, the secret of joy's flame: Humbly let go. Let go of trying to do, let go of trying to control... let go of my own way, let go of my own fears. Let God blow His wind, His trials, oxygen for you's fire. Leave the hand open and be. Be at peace. Bend the knee and be small and let God give what God chooses to give because he only gives love ~ and (I) whisper surprised thanks.
I can let go.
~~~
Let go of fear, let go of resisting the pain that comes with life, feel it, be real and feel, then open your heart and let Christ come and comfort, He will always come to us if we open our hearts to receive Him.
Here is a talk by President Packer along these lines ~ "Guided by the Holy Spirit"
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