The Greatest Lesson My Dad Ever Taught Me
Joy. It’s a funny word, isn’t it?
C.S. Lewis defined joy as “an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.” My personal definition of joy is “grace accepted.” When my dad would get up and head out to work, he would always look at me, smile, and say, “Be sure to keep a smile on your face and don’t let anybody steal your joy.” I always loved that, and I even passed that phrase on to my junior high, high school, and college students, so that every time they leave one of my Bible studies, I will say, “Keep a smile on your face,” to which they will respond, “And don’t let anybody steal your joy.”
All my life, my dad reminded me to find joy in all circumstances. When things are going easy, find joy. When times get tough, find joy. In the wake of my dad’s passing, I’ve been left pondering about joy and trying to figure out what it really, truly is. In the nine days since my dad was unexpectedly and quickly taken from me, I’ve realized that I no longer have him to remind me to find joy. In the time when I need his reminder the most, my dad is no longer here to encourage me towards joyfulness. In the time when there is nothing I desire more than to hear him say that phrase again, I recognize that his voice will become fainter and fainter to my memory with each passing day. In time, I won’t even remember how he said it.
The mere thought of this places a great burden on my heart, and everything within me wants to curl into a ball and weep. In time, I will forget my own father’s voice! My best friend, my closest pal, my dadio…In time, the only way I will be able to hear his voice is to watch old videos I have of him. My soul weeps at this thought, and a tug towards depression creeps into my very being. Doubts, fears, afflictions bombard my mind, and everything within me wants to scream. I just wish I could wake from this nightmare…
But then I hear a voice: Be sure to keep a smile on your face and don’t let anybody steal your joy.
The voice grows fainter and fainter each day, but the words mean more and more each time I hear them. I nod my head, wipe away the tears, and smile. I think of my God, His goodness, and His grace. A sense of peace floods my soul. My suffering gives way to hope, my fear is overcome by love, and my tears, at long last, give way to joy.
Yet still my heart queries: What is joy?
JOY: Grace Accepted
A few years back, I sat in my office with the sudden conviction that all good things not only come from God, but that all of these things directly flow outward from His grace unto us. God need not give us anything, and we cannot earn anything from Him, so if we receive anything from God, then each of these things must, in some way, be related to His gracious love bestowed to us. In order to better grasp this, I flipped to Galatians 5 and sought to relate each of the “fruits of the Spirit” to the grace of God. (If we have received these “fruits” as a result of the Spirit’s coming to indwell in believers—a result of the salvation that is achieved by grace through faith in Christ—then each of these must, in some way, likewise be directly related to grace.) This was the conclusion of my task:
Love is grace expressed.
Joy is grace accepted.
Peace is grace comprehended.
Patience is grace practiced.
Kindness is grace administered.
Goodness is grace manifested.
Faithfulness is grace repeated.
Gentleness is grace embodied.
Self-Control is grace remembered.
What did I mean in saying that Joy is grace accepted? In order to understand this, we must briefly discuss grace:
My favorite definition of grace comes from Ben Stuart, who says that “Grace is when an unobligated giver gives to an undeserving people an unbelievable gift.” Most people would merely define grace as “unmerited favor,” but the point is the same either way. When we speak of the grace of God, we are speaking of the fact that the self-sufficient, holy and perfect, complete and sovereign God of the universe has chosen to relate to man, despite the fact that He was unobligated to do so. When we speak of the grace of God, we are speaking of the fact that sinful, wicked, rebellious, and hard-hearted man is able in some way to relate to this perfect God, despite the fact that we are undeserving to do so. When we look at this divine, supernatural interaction—this perplexing, inexplicable interplay between God and man—we can say that it is, in a way, unbelievable…yet we are called to believe it. Perhaps a better word would be inexplicable. God Himself could surely explain it, but how can man? What could it possibly be that would compel a perfectly good God to choose to relate to sinful man? We know that God is a God of love, but what is it about His love that could possibly see Him reaching out to sinful man?
It is this inexplicable, unobligated, undeserved favor—this perplexing, confounding outreached hand of God towards man—that we call grace.
And whenever you recognize grace for what it is—whenever you accept it for what it is—you are filled with JOY. Whenever you see how great and mighty God is and how lowly and sinful man is—and whenever you fully accept the fact that you could never possibly deserve His attention, yet still He grants it—it is this revelation that fills the soul with true, undeniable joy.
We can have foretastes of this joy in various experiences throughout life, but it is most fully realized in God. This, I believe, is what C.S. Lewis meant by his definition. Once again, he described joy as “an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.” There is a lingering hunger for something that is found in joy, a hunger for something yet unfulfilled, yet even in its unfulfillment it somehow more satisfying than many other things which have already been fulfilled. Joy is thrilling, exhilarating, enticing. It is this perplexing restfulness and restlessness embodied all at the same time, an inner peace that manifests itself in enlivened excitement.
Whenever we see that the unobligated God has reached out to undeserving man in the most unbelievable of ways, we are filled with joy because we are filled with satisfaction in His love, comfort in His compassion, and excitement in His care. If God has reached out to us, we wonder, what for? If this beautiful God has by gracious love reached out to wicked man and offered him these many unbelievable gifts—salvation and all the things thereto attached—what many beauties could possibly lie in store?
When we take a full view of grace—when we accept it for what it is, without diminishing God or exalting man—we realize how precious the privilege is to be presented before the Creator of the universe, and to be constantly welcomed into such a privilege fills man with true joy.
Joy Beyond the TEARS
It is this grace that fills me with joy even in the wake of my dad’s death, because here is the truth that my dad’s reminder always contained: My joy is not rooted in my experiences. If you Google search the definition of joy, you will see “a feeling of great pleasure and happiness,” but I would argue that joy is more than merely a feeling or an emotion. Joy is something much deeper than mere sentiment or emotion; joy is a fruit that is accessible even amidst the fluctuating changes of life, because joy is rooted in the God who never changes.
My life has changed, but my God has not changed. The father who told me to not let anybody steal my joy may be gone, but thanks be to God that my joy was not rooted in his reminding voice, but rather in the truth that his reminder contained. When he told me to not let anybody steal my joy, he was reminding me that no matter what trial may come, joy is still accessible because God is still good, God is still faithful, and God is still true.
The greatest lesson my dad ever taught me is the exact lesson that is helping me through losing him, the lesson that is keeping me strong, the lesson that is comforting my grieving soul. Even in his passing, my father continues to teach me. My father may be gone, but the lesson that he taught me is more prevalent in my heart right now than it ever was before.
The Psalmist says unto God, “In your presence there is fullness of joy” (Psa 16:11). In this life, I will never stand in my earthly father’s presence ever again, and for that I grieve. But thanks be to God that, by His ever-giving grace, I dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, and that I have the blessed privilege of dwelling in his presence each and every day, of drawing near to my God and being His child, of being filled with a joy that defies all circumstances, a joy that goes beyond all my fears. My father has passed away, but my God is a father to the fatherless.
Conclusion
The brother of Christ once said to the dispersed tribes, “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. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (Ja 1:2-4). Before, I could only speak of this verse as a hypothetical—up until a week and a half ago, I cannot say I had really experienced true suffering in my life—but at last I am at last beginning to grasp the full extent of what this means.
I do not understand why the Lord has chosen to take my father from me, but the beautiful thing is that I don’t need to understand. God is God, and I will trust him. In the midst of this hardship, I will recognize this as an obstacle to overcome, yes, but more than an obstacle, a privilege: An opportunity to be grow in faith and be refined by the fiery depths of pain, a privilege to know that God is still with me and a privilege to know that if God has allowed this event to happen to me, it will ultimately be used as a platform for His ultimate glory. Jesus lost his earthly father sometime between the ages of 12 and 30; this loss, then, allows me suffer with Christ, and I count it an honor to be counted worthy to suffer for the name. I grieve, but not as one without hope, for my joy is rooted in something beyond my experience. My joy is rooted in my living hope in Christ Jesus, and in that hope—in that joy—I will rest secure.
As for you, my dear and beloved friends, I urged to keep a smile on your face and don’t let anybody steal your joy. I love you all. Grace and peace.
