Joy Comes

“Weeping may tarry for a night, but Joy comes with the morning” Ps. 30:5

In eternities past, the beginnings of creation was an intermingling of light and darkness. Darkness existed before God created. It’s as though he didn’t need to create the darkness, it already was. Scripture doesn’t say darkness was good or bad, but rather it was “formless and void" (Gen. 1:2). In the Genesis account, darkness, so it seems, was emptiness, a void of nothingness. It was here that God painted his creation on this canvass of dark obscurity.

In wisdom, God first dealt with the overriding presence of darkness before he created anything else. He didn’t cast it away or give it much attention at all. He just created light, and light simply drove it away. Once light came on the scene, darkness no longer had a presence.

His words, “Let there be light,” swirled through galaxies piercing darkness like a woodsmen's wedge. This word was an eternal word which, even today, streaks across the heavens dividing day from night. The Genesis account says, “God saw that the light was good". Anything, mind you, that drives away darkness is always good.

Even so, the Lord never removed the potential for darkness to exist. It seems that darkness has purpose too. The setting sun sends signals to our brain that it's time to rest. It’s natural for our body to recoup under the stillness of night. I rarely read or write in the evening. For me, the morning is when my rebooted system runs best. I reset in the night regaining my focus for a new day. When I’m working on a project I even feel a bit giddy knowing that when night has ended I get to start afresh at sunrise.

Likewise, night seasons of the soul serve a purpose, too. Tear filled nights are not wasted. Some feel that the dark night of the soul is a demonic robber of joy, and well it may be. But our God delights in turning the tables on the enemy who lured Adam into darkness in the first place. Using the ploys the enemy plans to use to sink us, the Spirit carries us into the brightest seasons we've ever known.

When clouds of despair descend upon us, it's usually nightfall we dread most. Ask the person who wrestles with depression and most likely, evening is an unwelcomed guest. This generation may be known as the one where doctors attempted to prescribe away our sorrows. We medicate our despair lest we worry and weep ourselves to death.

Even God’s people aren’t protected from life's pain. Sometimes our troubles appear no different than the common unbeliever. However, for those who put their trust in the Lord there’s always another side to life’s coin. Buried within the believer resides the hope of dawn. Beneath the ashes of pain remains a divine, flickering ember that believes somehow, someway our God shall come to us with healing in His wings.

I’ve watched many a sunrise, and the beauty of the emerging dawn is only magnified as it pushes back the darkness. A ribbon of yellow peeps over the eastern horizon and paints a beautiful portrait next to the blackened sky. The shadows of night could not stop it even if it wanted to. Just as in creation, the darkness seems vaster than the rising light. But as the fiery ball advances, it’s arms stretch forth, wraps around the earth and forces darkness to surrender. Like a diamond on black velvet, a sunrise is beautiful because of the black heavens that oppose it.

In the same way, God’s joy is the extravagant light against a backdrop of personal gloom. After a season of tears and pain, there’s the promise of joy, always in the morning after the darkness. Indeed, it comes after our mourning. If there had been no darkness God would have never created light. If there were no sadness, God would have had no need for joy. Our darkness, though difficult, serves to magnify the joy of the Lord and the joys of life itself.

Years ago a special work of grace was released in a church I served. A spirit of joy came upon us like a spring shower. One night, I watched as adults, teens and children joined together in small circles dancing with joy before the Lord. Notice I said, “I watched.” I didn’t join in. To each his own, I thought. I didn’t mind them doing it, but it wasn’t for me.

Time creates reality checks. Maybe honesty is the better word. It wasn’t for me because I was too prideful to dance before the Lord, especially in front of people. But oh, how I wanted to. But my feet just wouldn’t move. After all, what would I look like? Pretty ugly, I was sure, and not to mention, hilariously funny!

Years passed and I entered into a dark season of the soul like I had ever known. It didn’t last for weeks or months, but years. Even so, the ember within glowed beneath my ashes and kept me believing that joy would come.

Finally, morning dawned, joy returned, and this time with dancing. Well, sort of. My dancing is more of a hop. But I love how I feel and the delight I sense from God when I move before His presence. And now, I really don’t care what I look like...to anyone.

I feel kind of sorry for people who know neither joy nor sorrow. Some people think “normal” Christianity is to neither express over-the-top rejoicing nor deep depression. Sad is the believer who resides in the grayness of life. Better to experience a dark night of the soul, this way when morning breaks I will rejoice at the rising sun, rather than live in the twilight of oblivion. Give me joy or sadness, a smile or frown. But please don’t let me get stuck in the grim, numb state of straight-lipped Christianity.

For you who suffer from dark, depressive moments be encouraged. His artistic creation was splattered on a dark canvas similar to yours. He’s not threatened by your darkness. Isaiah 9:2 declares, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.” Oh, what a misfortune for you who are ashamed of your battle with darkness, for you may never perceive how light the Light can really be.

I pity the person who labors to know neither profound sorrow nor enthusiastic jubilation. The most joyful of all Christ followers are those who have walked through their pain, and after sobbing buckets of tears, greet the dawn only to discover that they, too, can dance.

But if you’re like me and can’t dance...hop man hop! 

Written by Bill, Albemarle, NC
Find out more about Bill