Always

No job? Check.

Two ugly divorces? Check.

Broken body? Check.

Depressed, anxious, stressed, frustrated, and fearful? Sorry. Nope.

I’m not Pollyanna–I know that my situation is far from optimal. On my nearly eight mile walk this morning along the beautiful Atlantic coastline, I thought deeply about, well…everything. I got laid off two weeks ago and I’m almost 59 years old. Sure, I’m experienced and talented and stay well abreast of changes in my industry (I teach undergraduate marketing courses), but I’m also kind of expensive and if you don’t know me, you might write me off as a dinosaur. I’m at the age where they gently suggest I leave off a decade of experience on my résumé because a) it’s not relevant and b) it shows just how old I am. So no income from my day job and, since I’m off until August at the university, no teaching income either.

I also spent some time thinking about being alone. Two marriages, two divorces, both of which left me in pretty dire financial straits, not to mention the emotional toll. I’m happily single, but those are some major red flags for anyone if I ever decide to get out there again. I know I’m probably not going to look favorably on someone with two strikes and don’t expect anyone to do otherwise with me.

And then there’s this broken body. Two titanium joints, one more coming this year. I’m having to miss my 7th degree black belt test because I just can’t do all the curriculum. I’ve been grieving the loss of the experience for months, and it still hurts every week as I prepare my own black belts for the exam.

So why this nearly painful feeling of joy in my chest? Why could I not stop my arms from reaching to the sky as I walked through the surf?

Always.

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice” (Philippians 4:4, New American Standard Bible).

I couldn’t help it. I was thinking about my job–and then was filled with joy at the thought of free time to finish my book, concentrate on my consulting business (Knockout Marketing Strategies), and enjoy my time at my beach home. I thought about being single, and rejoiced at the thought of my time being my own–time to read, write, exercise, cook…whatever. I thought about my arthritic joints and rejoiced at the time and experience I can now completely devote to my students without having to concentrate on my own training.

I didn’t set out to “flip the script” or come up with some saccharine view of my life. I still need a job. I still have to face another big surgery later this year to replace my other shoulder. My walk wasn’t some mountaintop experience that vanished as soon as I walked back in the door of my home.

No, it was something deeper. It was a CS Lewis “surprised by joy” kind of experience. A reminder that no matter what the circumstances–financial, relational, emotional, or a global pandemic–my God can reach into my heart and squeeze…tightly, almost painfully…and remind me that joy is mine if I will just receive.

Two hours later, my chest still hurts. I know it’s not a sustainable experience–I’ll get back to the quotidian details of life very soon. But oh, how grateful I am for this pain. This joy that transcends life’s challenges and pain.

Rejoice.