Where Real Joy Comes From

Welcome to Word for the Week, the series in which I:

share my experience of hearing God’s Word in Mass last weekend,
explore what I believe the Lord is calling me to do about that Word, and
ask how this Word might impact your life, as well.

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I went to Mass with 10-year-old Jamal last weekend; another Sunday of divide-and-conquer in our family. Two words stood out to me during the liturgy. Although the phrases seemed unrelated at first, they have come to represent a seamless proclamation of comfort and joy. 

In the second reading, the name “John” stood out. (As in, “a reading from the First Letter of John.”) Just a man’s name? I’ve been listening for my Word for the Week every Sunday since I was 17. I don’t recall ever zeroing in on the name of the reading! But then the Holy Spirit nudged my heart with another word,  so I felt a better sense of where to focus!

Mass was bilingual and the gospel was proclaimed in Spanish. The word “Alégrense” spoke to me. In the English version of that same gospel passage, the translation is “Rejoice.” Often, connotations seem warmer to me in Spanish than in English. To me, the feeling of the phrase “Alégrense” is more like, “Be joyful!” 

As soon as I heard that word, I started questioning the Lord. “How am I supposed to be happy? I don’t know how. Can you show me?” I’ve been dealing with some deep sadness that’s been lodged way down in my heart for as long as I can remember. So the word seemed hopeful but confusing for my current dilemma.

Midweek, I had a virtual counseling session through the Porter’s House. (They offer free services and encouragement exclusively to full-time recording artists!) As I shared my recent uncoverings with my counselor, Beth, she affirmed that the connections I was making were important and also so very sad. And then she said, “It’s time to celebrate!”

Beth explained how significant it is to “unnerve” these findings. She implored me to dwell on happy thoughts this week. She said her prayer for me was “joy.”

Sure, her advice echoed my word for the week. That didn’t make it seem any easier. I began to question: How much of my natural exuberance is genuine? What part of my persona is a projection of happiness to cover for these wounds in my heart? Maybe the reason I love the cross so much is because I have an unhealthy relationship with suffering. I asked God to show me.

Then, early on Friday morning, I walked into Jamal’s bedroom. He was stretching out like kids do when they attempt to wake up. I glanced down at Jamal’s bookshelf and saw a new title. “Stories of the Saints.” It was a gift for his birthday last month. 

I felt a pull in my heart, “Pick up the book!” Following the prompting, I lifted the tall, hardcover from the shelf. I cracked the book open. “Look at the left page,” the inner voice instructed again. As my eyes dropped down to the words in print, I broke into a huge smile. 

“John of the Cross,” the heading announced. Under the same heading were a number of highlights of John’s life: location, emblem, feast day. I grinned at the description, “Patron of contemplatives, mystics, poets.” Jamal made another vocalized stretch from the foot of his bed. 

I read through the story of John of the Cross. He went through a lot of trauma as a young child through family feuds, the loss of his father, his brother’s death from starvation, and his subsequent childhood of poverty. Yet he led a life of intense love of God. Plus he composed some of the most beautiful poems that were ever written in the Spanish language.

Toward the end of the story, I came across this paragraph: 

“When people were suffering, other people sometimes told them that God must have abandoned them. But John wrote that people didn’t suffer because God has left them. Instead, they could find God in the midst of their suffering. 

The real joy comes from God, John wrote, so seeking happiness in this world is like a starving person trying to eat air.”

As I closed the book, my face was wet with tears. The front cover was adorned with gorgeous illustrations in deep shades of green, gold, and grey. I noticed the subtitle, “Bold and Inspiring Tales of Adventure, Grace, and Courage.” I felt so seen by God. 

At first, “John” seemed random and “alégrense” sounded impossible. On the same week that I questioned my love of the cross, there was St. John of the Cross, preaching words of wisdom! (Wisdom which was surely first written in Spanish, no less!)

Have you come up short as you have sought happiness in this world lately? Or maybe you, like I, have become aware of sadness that laid dormant for years or decades. In case you’re searching for a remedy, too, I’ll invite you to reflect on this simple interpretation of St. John of the Cross: “Real joy comes from God.”

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