E,
In the interim, while we wait for our joy to be full, we must look and
listen for it in the things already unfolding. Joy is the fulfilment of all the
things we feel inside: our sense of eternity, our need for love, our craving
for purpose and our search for meaning. It is the height of all things and the
way we feel and know and live at those heights, forever. Still, it is not that
static. I am failing to describe the thing. It is not only the end that is joy
but the steps that lead there as well.
There is no real absence of joy. It is always there, always blended in
with the trauma and decay and disappointment, and in the death. We are told to “count
it all joy when…” and then a list of horrible things are listed as possible
scenarios. This is not because these things are not terrible. The difference is
in this: they are temporary, and Joy is not. The latter will, as in every
sentence there is, outlast the former.
The absence of joy increases the longing for its fulfilment. We believe that
this longing will be met. It is the only thing that makes sense. There is no
hunger that cannot be filled, no search without a find and no journey without a
destination. There is nothing random about the order of the universe, even when
we do not yet understand how it truly works. Everything has its place. Everything
that is has its own story. Joy is the culmination of ours.