Why I’m mostly happy and how you can be, too

Categorized as Rhonda's Posts

“If we can’t live as happy people, then who will want what we have?” That’s what’s on my mind today.

Some years ago, I was thinking about the word “happy” while I was out walking on my country road. And I was thinking about how we Christians, we have blown that word UP. We shy away from it, skittish as kittens, and we drop it like a hot potato.

“Joy,” we say in ponderous tones. “It’s really joy we should pursue. Joy is what we need.” And we speak of how earthly and transitory said happiness is.

I have a deep, theological term for this thinking. “Baloney.” (Look it up. You’ll find it in Strong’s somewhere. Hash tag prettysure.)

“I’m not afraid of the word ‘happy.’” That’s what He said to me that day. “It’s Christians who are afraid of ‘happy.’”

“Happy is that people whose God is the Lord.” The Shepherd Boy himself penned these words, and many millennia later, they resonate with a curly-headed firecracker girl. Who is, mostly, happy.

How can I claim to be happy, and why is it okay to expect it? Is my life easy and trouble free? Have I been untouched by sorrow, heartache, and pain? Is it really possible to be happy in spite of unresolved trials, ongoing pain, and discomfort?

Yes. And no.

The reason I can claim to be happy is not because I’ve not had trouble. Because I have, and I do.

The reason I am truly happy is not because all of my trials have resolved and I no longer have anything painful or uncomfortable in my life. Because I do.

The reason I feel, mostly, just–happy, is not because my life is perfect, but because I am more and more and ever more, living as He always intended me to live. As a child, because that’s what I am.

When our four boys were little, it was perfectly reasonable that they should live as happy children in our home where they were loved, cared for, comforted, nurtured, fed, dressed, bathed, sheltered, taught, and corrected. Not perfectly, but in a safe and stable home. Our desire and intent was for them to be what they were–children. Trusting, confident, carefree, and happy. Not worried, not fearful, not anxious, but loved.

I have chosen to follow God through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Together, we have faced sexual abuse, trauma, terror from old religious teachings, and a deep distrust of His heart. And together, we have come to a new and very spacious place, a place of green meadows and still waters. A place of healing and freedom and rest.

A place of real happiness.

I am happy even though I have a prodigal son, and that hurts me.

I am happy even though my job’s disappeared, and I’m uncertain.

I am happy even though there’s still healing to do, for I live in a state of happiness and peace. Every moment of every day, I am keenly aware of His presence with me and in me, and it’s so sweet.

This is the only way that people will be drawn to the family circle that I love. They’re dying to see that Papa’s kids are truly happy. Truly loving. Truly loved. And that is what I am.

Warmly, as ever,


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