I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.
3 John 1:4
It's not that aren't some crazy, bad, awful things in the world.
Because there are.
And to act as if they don't exist or don't make an impact is to not honor what pain costs.
I wonder. I wonder why Christians are not known for their joy. Ironic joy in the face of mortality. And falleness. And hurt. And mess.
Because of the specials needs of two of my kids, I have spent a fair amount of time in some pediatric waiting rooms. Waiting for MRIs. And CAT scans. And in pediatric neurology lobbies.
In those lobbies and waiting rooms reside all manner of illness and challenge and disability. It's wrenching. Upsetting. Unsettling.
But every time...
Every time I'm there...
There's one kid. At least one child with some immense challenge. Some physical or neurological hurdle that will never be cleared.
And that kid...
...is the one who models joy. Laughing. Dancing. Delighted by the lights, by the fish in the fish tank, the puzzles on the floor, the books on the table. Happy and giggling, regardless of tubes and wheelchairs and braces.
And if that kid in the lobby can model joy...
...then so can I.
Yes, as the old camp song says, they'll know we are Christians by our love.
And I hope they will know us by our joy as we wait for eternity in the waiting room of life, with our issues and challenges and hiccups.