Lately I’ve been a glass half empty kinda girl. I’ve been feeling defeat and despair and dullness where life and joy once teemed.
But God spoke to me yesterday.
After the tears on the phone to my mom. While washing dishes in the sink. While scraping day old coffee gunk from the bottom of a ceramic cup.
A melody at first. A refrain.
“restore unto me the joy of thy salvation…”
A Sunday school hymn.
And then the words of the living God. Whispered to me. To me?
“I will restore your joy.”
Restore. Because something has been broken. Because something has been lost. Because something needs to be mended and tended.
“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.”
I don’t know what that means or when that means. But I believe it. And I want it.
I want a clean heart. A renewed spirit. A heart that expects God to show up. That expects joy.
Because he WILL restore my joy.
I am going to expect joy.
Maybe there is something to this naming of gifts, naming of joy. As I type these words, my heart settles. The panic panic grasping subsides. My fists unclench, open to receive this joy. Expectant. Vigilant in the pursuit of joy.
Vigilant in the pursuit of God.