Joy is an
offensive signpost- it reads like this:
“You cannot go back to what you have been, but
neither can you go forward into what you had resigned yourself to. When you laugh, slavery no longer serves you.”
Joy bides its
time patiently until the opportune moment to rush in and intrude on emotional
certainty. It has a plan to steal the things you carry around for your
protection, like regret, bitterness or apathy.
And the invitation is to return to the refinement
and wait for joy to grow offensive to your pain.
Then we can follow
this inappropriate joy into the wilderness, removed and cut off from slavery. It’s
a rude interruption of the negative tapes that play over and over in your head.
The invitation is dangerous, because it is threatens your current way of
thinking and upends the resignation you had planned.
And in every
single moment of joy, everything has the potential to transform. Joy is a game
changer, a plot twister, a single instant that can alter the entire course of
your journey.
But only if
you choose to trust its timing and surrender your desperate hold on the things
which hold you captive.
My prayer is that we would
laugh in the midst of refinement and then allow that inappropriate joy to lead
us out into a life of freedom in the wilderness.
Joy will
steal your security and leave you vulnerable and exposed.
It especially
likes to interrupt suddenly and confiscate pain and suffering.
Joy will do
strange things like swirl around your face and kiss your forehead while you are
sitting quietly on your yoga mat, deep in meditation, trying to find God.
You will know
it’s joy when it enters in at a moment when you were least expecting it to be
there. Joy is persistent- it is not invited to the door, it will knock
anyways. But to have a lasting effect it does need to be welcomed in.
And in some
ways it’s a terrible house guest, because it steals things.
Joy takes definite security without
asking and leaves us vulnerable.
Joy exposes our wounded places- it shows us where
we still need to be loved.
It strips away slavery, resignation,
pretenses.
It makes us vulnerable. It requires submission
to be felt.
I find myself
this week studying Genesis chapter 16 and 21, the story of a terrible conflict
between father Abraham’s first wife, Sarah, and his second “wife”, Hagar.
I liked Hagar
the very first time I met her, because she has an unkempt and complicated story
without any straight lines. She is the mother of Ishmael, wife of the patriarch of
the Islamic peoples, matriarch of monotheism, with a lineage that is worthy of many
wars.
Many people are frightened or threatened by what
Hagar’s journey gives birth to. Others revere her legacy with honor. In its
entirety her story is MESSY, with some majorly conflicting points of view. And in
the midst of “it’s complicated”, God
gives her a voice and a place of dignity in the Christian Scriptures.
This is why I am like her.
Her legacy
makes people uncomfortable, even thousands of years later.
And she is
loved and blessed by God, with an honorable role to play in Scripture.
Hagar is an
Egyptian slave, given to her master by his wife to bear them a child. This was not
her choice- it was circumstantial. Which is true of most of our lifelong
sufferings- they begin from things that were out of our control- like slavery.
And as the story
unfolds, Hagar is the victim of other people’s insecurities and fears-
“Now
Sarai, Abram’s wife, had not been able to bear children for him. But she had an
Egyptian servant named Hagar. So she took Hagar the Egyptian servant and gave
her to Abram as a wife.” 16:1,3
We do not ask
for conflicting things to happen, but they do and it defines the course of our
entire lives and we cannot stop the outcome. And putting up walls of anger or
hate becomes one of the safest forms of self-defense-
“When
Hagar knew she was pregnant, she began to treat her mistress, Sarai, with
contempt.” 16:4
The natural
response to suffering is to blame others, because this helps us avoid the
places inside us that are wounded and hurting. It is easier to hurt others than
to heal ourselves.
“Then
Sara said to Abraham, ‘This is all your fault! I put my servant into your arms,
but now that she’s pregnant she treats me with contempt. The Lord will show
who’s wrong- you or me!” 16:5
Becoming
defensive is a sign of fear- perhaps fear that our weakness might be showing.
Our reactions to painful circumstances help solidify the negative cycle,
setting the course for more suffering and manifesting our worst fears. We
literally draw more pain into ourselves by trying to avoid it.
Abraham gave
up defending Hagar. The relational conflict was too complicated for human hands
to untangle. It had grown beyond his sense of control.
“Abram
replied, 'Look, she is your servant, so deal with her as you see fit.' Then
Sarai treated Hagar so harshly that she finally ran away.”
16:6
We will
eventually reach a point where we cannot bear the burden of hidden suffering
any longer, and after years and years of covering up the hurt, the relational
conflict becomes so heavy that we want to escape.
“she
finally ran away.”
And this is where joy waits to meet us in the
wilderness.
God meets Hagar in the desert and speaks to her through an angel:
“Hagar,
Sarai’s servant, where have you come from, and where are you going?”
16:8
Joy draws
near and asks us what our plan is. And there is
no plan, other than to keep running.
“I’m
running away
from my mistress, Sarai.” Hagar replied. 16:8
Nobody can
outrun relational offense and still manage to heal well and properly. Reconciliation
is not possible if you are running away- even the prodigal son had to retrace
his steps and walk back before he could be blessed.
The
angel of the Lord said to her, “Return to your mistress and submit to her
authority.” 16:9
If you forego
the exposure to maturity, you forego the healing and the joy that comes with
it. The reward is in the returning, in the dwelling.
Oh dear God, we think, do you want us to remain in
the tension and live our whole life there, right in the hardest place? How can
You ask such a thing of your child? That’s an offensive ask!
Anger lurks
in our response, ready to defend itself at all costs. But God brings us joy to
help us understand.
He promises to honor us in due time.
“I will give you more descendants than you can count. You will give
birth to a son. You are to name him Ishmael (which means ‘God hears’), for the
Lord has heard your cry of distress.” 16:11
Sometimes joy
is a promise we wait for, doing the long, hard work of refinement in our souls. It is
not the time to escape into the wilderness…not yet, beloved.
So Hagar
returns to slavery.
But before
she goes, she gives her God a new name, one that suits her new view of suffering-
trust and awe, gratitude and doubt and worry, all gathered up into the same
breath.
“Thereafter Hagar used another name to refer to the Lord, who had spoken to her. She said, ‘You are the God who sees me. She also said, “Have I truly seen the One who sees me?”16:13
The
realization is that she is seen.
Because her
pain and suffering have been seen and acknowledged and honored. She knows that
when she walks back into the hard place, it will be with blessing and honor.
She will stand in the hard place and let herself be
seen.
Joy is asking
us to journey back into the refinement process, for God is one who sees and
waits to bless us right there in the trial, through it and because of it,
redeeming every tear.
The story is
just beginning, and here is not the chapter about the wilderness. This is the
chapter about waiting for deliverance, dwelling in the circumstances while praying
to be sent out from them, learning to discover joy while waiting for it to set
you free.
“So
Hagar gave Abraham a son, and he named him Ishmael.” 16:15
Hagar
remained in her painful circumstance, one which she did not choose but chose
her.
Hers was a
brokenness that would take years or even a lifetime to repair, a relational
conflict which required humility and forgiveness beyond human understanding.
And the
curtain closes after Ishmael is born, and then we do not see Hagar for 14
years- she returns to slavery, disappears into the community and her story goes
underground.
This is the
refinement period. It happens alone, quietly, unobserved and hidden from
curious eyes. An intimate knowing between only herself and God.
What will be left when we see her again after all that
time?
So much exposure
to the people who cause her pain, you would think we would find a woman broken,
angry, hateful, bitter. All that time she remains a slave, with a story defined
by regret, victim of circumstances she did not ask for, an embarrassment to her
superiors, with no safe place to belong and a story nobody wants to share.
The potential
for bitterness is exponential. She should be broken and full of contempt when
we see her again.
Yet the next
time we see Hagar, she is laughing.
Laughing?
At this point
Abraham and Sarah have had a baby of their own, who is only just a toddler. And
it is readily apparent that Sarah has never forgiven Hagar for the past, but
instead allowed bitterness to root down and sprout into anger and grow into
murderous hatred for the slave girl.
“Sarah
saw Ishmael- the son of Abraham and her Egyptian servant Hagar, making fun of
her son, Isaac. So she turned to Abraham and demanded, ‘Get rid of that slave
woman and her son. He is not going to share the inheritance with my son Isaac.
I won’t have it!’” 21:10
I stumbled
over this verse, because I couldn’t imagine a grown woman and her teenage son
mocking a little toddler. This doesn’t seem very plausible. Who bullies a
little baby barely out of diapers? What is there to taunt him about, when he
doesn’t even understand the language of mockery at this age?
Not to
mention, I was disappointed in Hagar, because I want her to rise above the
petty things. So I jumped to her defense, and after checking the fine print, I
found to my delight that the original Hebrew text does not have the words “of
her son Isaac”. It was added later- maybe to make Sarah, mother of generations,
look a little bit more justified in her reaction?
I am no
biblical scholar, so don’t expect an exegesis of the text. Don't call me out on my interpretive errors, as I'm well aware of my limitations. But we can agree that whatever the
reason, it was added on later. That
means the text would originally read:
“Sarah
saw Ishmael- the son of Abraham and her Egyptian servant Hagar, making fun.
So she turned to Abraham and demanded, ‘Get rid of that slave woman and her
son. He is not going to share the inheritance with my son Isaac. I won’t have
it!’”21:10
“Sarah saw them making fun.” It sounds to me like perhaps Sarah
saw them laughing together. In her judgmental presence they were having fun,
enjoying the moment, smiling even after 14 years of social stigma in the community.
Laughter in the midst of brokenness is the victory of
joy.
How was it
possible for Hagar to endure 14 years of standing and being seen in a community
that was embarrassed by her story? I believe the key is found in making space for joy in places it doesn’t
belong.
When joy is
expressed under the thumb of oppression, it’s sure to cause alarm.
And so in her
jealous hatred, Sarah’s hate was indeed provoked. And anger
is a sign of pain, which indicates unhealed wounds. This type of healing requires a
certain amount of submission to joy, in order to survive the pain of dead
things coming back to life.
Joy becomes a
threat to emotional comfort.
I think that Sarah
assumed the laughter was about her, because when you are on the defense everything is about you, even when it’s
not. This is the delightful lie of living scared and in scarcity.
Hagar’s
abundance of joy exposed Sarah’s lack. Sarah hated that moment of joy, probably
because she had so few of her own. Holding
onto bitterness means relegating joy to the sidelines and then losing touch
with it. Like a
regret from the past that you never want to see again, such is joy to those who
have no tolerance for it.
And in her
hate Sarah ordered the banishment of Hagar from the community. She would never
laugh in the presence of Sarah ever again. She wished her dead.
Finally,
after the refinement period, inappropriate and offensive joy becomes a
catalyst for freedom-
it delivered Hagar from slavery-
“So
Abraham got up early the next morning, prepared food and a container of water,
and strapped them on Hagar’s shoulders. Then he sent her away with their son,
and she wandered aimlessly in the wilderness.”
21:14
She was sent
away to wander the desert alone with her son.
Her community cast her out.
This is the
painful moment when joy leads us into new territory, unfamiliar and scary and
vulnerable.
There was no plan except to keep hurting.
“When the water was
gone, she put the boy in the shade of a bush. Then she went and sat down by
herself about a hundred yards away. ‘I don’t want to watch the boy die,’ she
said, as she burst into tears.”
v15-16
Most people’s
first reaction to inappropriate joy is to silence it with fear-based thoughts.
And usually there are usually tears- lots of them. It’s the mind trying to hold
onto the reality we learned from past experiences. It’s
doubting the freedom of the blessing, fearing the goodness, looking for the
fine print, asking “what do I owe you?”.
We have
recieved an open invitation to allow joy to go deeper and rewrite our story.
“But
God heard the boy crying and the angel of God called to Hagar from heaven,
‘Hagar, what’s wrong? Do not be afraid! God has heard the boy crying as he lies
there. Go to him and comfort him, for I will make a great nation from his
descendants.” 21:17-18
Offensive joy is beckoning us into
the wilderness.
Joy is always
asking us to listen, and it usually needs to drag us out into the empty and
silent desert to explain things. So it waits there patiently until the
opportune moment to rush in and intrude on our fears. It has a plan to steal
the things you carry for your protection, like remorse, sorrow or apathy.
“Then
God opened Hagar’s eyes, and she saw a well full of water. She quickly filled
her water container and gave the boy a drink. And God was with the boy as he
grew up in the wilderness.” 21:19-20
And so it was
inappropriate joy that offended Hagar’s mistress and led her into the
wilderness to discover the abundance of freedom.
As I said
earlier, joy is an offensive thief. It wants to steal your weapons and your
masks and your armor. Joy
wants to invade places within you that need love and abundance, healing and freedom.
But with the right amount of persistent
denial, joy can be sent away. And when this happens, seeing joy in someone else
might not translate very well- you get offended by someone else’s happiness.
You will start removing from your life all the people that point out your unhealed hurts by the way they live and love and laugh.
You will start removing from your life all the people that point out your unhealed hurts by the way they live and love and laugh.
Joy is inappropriate because
it knocks uninvited and makes brazen suggestions.
And it will steal our arsenals of protective modalities.
And it will steal our arsenals of protective modalities.
And if you are like me, you would rather hold
onto the false sense of safety that comes from staying a bit cynical or bitter,
clinging to hurts like they are pearls of great price, rather than allow joy to
come and reroute the journey into the wilderness.
It is easy to
be like Sarah, getting rid of the things that make us vulnerable. Like laughter.
I can learn a
great deal from Hagar, who even after serving someone who wished
she would disappear, could still laugh out loud at life and find joy in the most
inappropriate spaces.
I aspire to have the courage
to follow joy into the wilderness, where my story can be rewritten and my steps
rerouted.
And there in
the desert He will provide.
After
the refinement, He can reveal a well of joy in our hearts, because they are
open, vulnerable, empty, thirsty and ready to drink.
May we all find an abundance of laughter in the face of slavery, and may joy come after the refinement period and offend that which holds us back from a greater and more powerful narrative than we are currently living.
Sometimes you
will be driving home from the grocery store, car full of bags to unload, and
you will pull up to the familiar red light that you always hit, every time. And
while you sit there, watching the busy intersection, you will glance up and see
the white clouds where they form a great circle in the sky.
And at that moment joy will dive into your being, with shivers and tingles from head to toe. Uninvited, unexplainable, and as real and tangible as the steering wheel in front of you.
And you will smile, and maybe even laugh.
And at that moment joy will dive into your being, with shivers and tingles from head to toe. Uninvited, unexplainable, and as real and tangible as the steering wheel in front of you.
And you will smile, and maybe even laugh.
Joy is an
offensive signpost- it reads like this:
“You cannot go back to what you have been, but
neither can you go forward into what you had resigned yourself to. When this is
over, slavery no longer serves you.”
Joy bides its
time patiently until the opportune moment to rush in and intrude on emotional
certainty. It has a plan to steal the things you carry around for your
protection, like regret, bitterness or apathy.
And the invitation is to return to the refinement
and wait for joy to grow offensive to your pain.
Then we can follow
this ridiculous joy into the wilderness, removed and cut off from slavery. It’s
a rude interruption of the negative tapes that play over and over in your head.
The invitation is dangerous, because it is threatens your current way of thinking and upends the resignation you had planned.
And in every
single moment of joy, everything has the potential to transform. Joy is a game
changer, a plot twister, a single instant that can alter the entire course of
your journey.
But only if
you choose to trust its timing and surrender your desperate hold on the things
which hold you captive.
My prayer is that we would
laugh in the midst of refinement and then allow that inappropriate joy to lead
us out into a life of freedom in the wilderness.
Amen and amen.
~*~
