I longed for joy—the kind that sparkles and shines out of women’s eyes. It’s bliss from abiding, resting, rejoicing, and being grounded in God and what He says in His Word. They bow to His sovereignty, they yield, knowing God’s got it. This joy is a testimony and evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work.
I saw joy in my longtime friend Pat. We taught together in a Christian school in Michigan. Once I became a stay-at-home mom, Pat would swing by my house to check in on me. We enjoyed digging into multiple Bible studies over the years. I thought, “I hope someday I can give back to women like Pat does for me.”
Even though Pat shined with the joy of the Lord, disappointments had touched her life. She lost a grandchild at birth, a son had a brain tumor, and grief from a church division touched her deeply. Pat and her husband left the church they both loved and served for over 25 years. Pat, now in her mid-70s, is living with physical pain from a crooked spine. Recently I asked her, “How are you feeling?”
She said, “I hurt. But what good will it do for me to focus on my pain? Instead, I focus on Jesus and His pain and what He went through for me.”
God knew I needed to see joy modeled. When I was in my mid-40s, I told God I was sick and tired of living out the first part of John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). I craved the abundant life, the full life. Peace. Passion. Purpose.
Within three years, I had seen death snatch and steal two lives. First, my father, and then my youngest brother, both dying of heart attacks. Plus, the pain from my secret was shredding my heart: I lived in an emotionally abusive marriage. The longevity and the chronicity of the abuse pummeled me. The daily bullets of being ignored, negated, or criticized by the man that had vowed to love me were deathblows. I believed I had nothing to offer and could no longer learn. I felt purposeless.
When I contemplated going back to college for my master’s degree for teaching in a specialty field, I was asked, “Why would you do such a thing?” I thought of starting a little business and heard, “That is not you.” The comments bred self-doubt, which made me feel a bit crazy. This left me in a position of neediness to the abuser. Stuck, I prayed to die. This is how abuse works. A woman feels she cannot step out. If she did, the fear of how she could support herself arises. And if there are kids involved, she is threatened that they will be taken from her and/or turned against her.
When my brother died, I asked the Lord, “If that were me, what would people believe about my life?” People would believe two lies: one, that I was loved and happily married, and two, that it was a Christian marriage. I couldn’t die in the lies. I knew I had to take steps for help.
It took me five years from my brother’s death to finally stand up to my spouse, seek counseling, create a safety net of support, and expose the abuse. Within 40 days, I became parentless, spouseless, homeless, and childless, since the teens chose to move elsewhere. Next, I had to walk through the doorways of bankruptcy court and divorce court. What a mess! Joy? No way. Not yet.
I knew giving thanks was my next best step. “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thess. 5:18). Easy to read. But what do you do when your world is crashing down?
I went to work. My focus had to shift from the mess to God. My Savior. My Sustainer. My Deliverer. His faithfulness. His sovereignty. His character. His plan. In my little condo nest I spoke thanks, and wrote thanks. Whenever I saw my three teens, I thanked God I could see them, even if it was only for an hour.
I thanked God when each month’s condo rent was paid.
I thanked God I was out of the abuse.
I thanked God my presence was no longer ignored in my own home.
I thanked God I had a startup business.
I thanked God I could begin to laugh again.
I kept on giving thanks and my joy grew. Eventually, this JOY acronym helped me grow more joy:
1. JESUS first.
Recognize He’s your Creator, Sustainer, Master, Healer, and Deliverer. He is the lover of your soul, partner for life, if you know Him as your Savior. Choose Jesus to grow joy.
2. Obedience.
This is the seed to make joy sprout. If we don’t apply the Word of God, there is no transformation to joy. For example:
- “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28). Believe this verse when your world is upside down. That’s faith in action.
- “Rejoice always” (1 Thess. 5:16). Really? The Word says, rejoice always.
- “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance” (Jas. 1:2-3). Count it all joy, even with our “Why me, God?” and watch what God will do.
3. You are responsible for you.
If you’re waiting for circumstances to change or others to fill you up, you won’t experience real joy. It is a quality of the fruit of the Spirit.
I’m so grateful to God for He has answered the second half of my prayer—and still is. “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full” (John 10:10). He gave me a life of peace, passion, and purpose. The same year that my brother died, I began my training to become a professional certified Life Purpose Coach®, grief-loss coach, recovery coach, and coaching instructor.
Only God restores and redeems a heart full of bullet holes. Now I am founder of Hearts with a Purpose, coaching women in toxicity to freedom to discover their life purpose. Plus, I experience great joy in writing books about God, His Word, His faithfulness, and teaching women how to apply the Word—God’s plan. John 16:20, “Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.”
I am ever so thankful that Pat heeded God’s nudging to check in on me. God specializes in taking messy, mixed-up, broken lives that smack of pain and produce a world of joy.
