Contentment

...is a nice cup of tea, a good book, family around, and the smell of homemade cinnamon raisin bread baking in the oven.

Actually, the first is contentment, the first two happiness, the first three joy, and the last alone is ecstacy. Having a father who's an amateur baker is a definite plus. I'm never moving.

When I'm depressed, I find myself worrying that depression is simply my natural state of being. My writing usually reinforces this impression; I'm at my most articulate when describing the soul-baring anguish of despair. It's easy to come away convinced that happiness isn't meant for me, that such snatches of freedom and joy are only brief highlights. It reminds me of one of the most poignant passages in the book Return of the King. Sam and Frodo are in Mordor, driven to despair and ready to give up. Sam remarks that if he were in front of Galadriel again, he wouldn't ask for anything fancy - just water and sunlight, two things sorely lacking in the hobbits' journey. Suddenly, the clouds part, and a sunbeam illuminates a stream the hobbits had missed. That's how my happiness seems, sometimes - a rare moment of brilliance in the midst of despair, just enough to continue the arduous journey of life.

But this is worth chronicling. Firelight and tea, cinnamon bread, family, laughter. A week in which I got two afternoons off. A good book just completed. For the better part of this week, I've been enjoying a peace and happiness at least as strong and inexplicable as any depression I've experienced. God provides moments of extravagant grace here, and if that's all I need to reach Mount Doom and gain passage into the West, that's what I'll take.

Tidings of Comfort And Joy

Another Christmas has come and gone, much the same as every other Christmas. Family comes, family goes, gifts come and go, the feast comes (and comes... and comes... we'll be working through leftovers for the next couple weeks here). Our church had a service on Christmas, but with a dress code ranging from evening wear to blue jeans. The sermon was a marvelous illustration of Jesus as our hero, using comparisons to Sleeping Beauty, Beauty and the Beast, Return of the King, Superman, and the Matrix - mostly Return of the King. It's wonderful having a pastor with similar rabid hobbies.

But before he got to the story comparisons, our pastor went on a nice riff about heroes in general. He talked about how people come up to him a lot with problems, and ask, "Am I doing something wrong?" He says terrible things happen without our doing anything wrong, and we don't have to be strong enough to deal with them. We don't have to be big enough, or special enough, or smart enough to deal with every obstacle. It's as ludicrous as trying to stop an airplane from falling. And yet we've got a Superman ready to dash away from his day job at the first sign of distress. We might be stuck in a castle surrounded by a cage of thorns and beset by a dragon, but we've got a Prince fighting his way through. We have horrors in our lives, but we have a Beautiful Savior whose healing love can cover them. We have a King whose sword drives back the inexorable juggernaut of evil, a King whose hands bring healing in the aftermath, a King whose reign brings joy to the edge of darkness. And we have the One who will truly set us free.

It might have been observed that I'm fond of Isaiah. Aside from the passage that gives this blog its name, I particularly like Isaiah 59. It begins with an unshirking look at the utter injustice of this world. Then, midway through verse 15,

The LORD looked and was displeased
that there was no justice.

¹⁶ He saw that there was no one,
he was appalled that there was no one to intervene;
so his own arm worked salvation for him,
and his own righteousness sustained him.

God has seen, and He's said "Enough. I'm coming down there, and if anyone's interested in making a world of hurtin', they'll be getting one." Christmas Day is about our newfound opportunity for peace on earth, about our hero winning the battle, about the fact that we can leave this bloody mess to God and just collapse in a good cry and a rest while He takes care of it. It's about tidings of comfort and joy.