Shared & Unrequited Joy

I was talking to someone recently who lost their son when he was 19 years old. They commented that they could talk about him for hours on end. Everything about their life with him. “We don’t want to forget him,” he said.

I think he also loves talking about his son because of all the joy it brings to remember him as a living person. We always like to talk about whatever brings us joy. Whatever is really important to us, we like to tell about. I think it was C. S. Lewis who pointed out that joy is not complete until it is shared with someone else. If I really enjoyed a movie, I naturally want to tell someone about it. But more than just telling, I want someone to share in my experience of joy. So even though I’ve already seen the movie, I’ll watch it again with someone else, the whole time glancing over to see if they are sharing my delight or not. If they are, my joy is complete.

But what if they’re not? What if they watch the movie and say, “Eeh, that was alright, I suppose.” I like a movie called “Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald” (in Japanese, with subtitles). I think it’s one of the funniest movies ever, but my wife doesn’t care for it. There’s also a book I love called Such is Life, written in the late 1800’s by an Australian author. I think it is one of the most brilliant works of literature in the world. I could go on for some time talking about the brilliance of the dialogue, how funny it is, how unbelievably ingenious the hidden plots are. But I can’t find anyone else who likes the book or has ever heard of it. I have unrequited joy.

Unrequited joy is discouraging. It’s like a wet blanket on a campfire, or a computer virus that strikes just as you get to the last level of an awesome computer game, or a thunderstorm on an outdoor wedding, or a slap in the face. It stings, and it’s hard not to take it personally. It’s not nice if someone hates what I love, but what really hurts is if someone is completely disinterested in something I love, something that gives me great joy.

Three points: 1) The force of my natural, inner compulsion to talk about God or Jesus Christ is an indication of how much joy I really feel in him, how much love and delight I find in him. Ouch! I don’t need anyone to push me or command me to talk about what I love or what gives me great joy. Why do I need someone to push me or command me to talk about Jesus? The more joy I find in him, the more natural it will be for me to talk about him. Finding joy in Christ must therefore be a conscious goal of my life. 2) Evangelism can legitimately be viewed simply as my attempt to share my joy with another to see if they will find joy in the same person. That doesn’t seem so daunting. I’m not trying to manipulate or argue someone into believing a set of doctrines, I am sharing my joy in the person of Jesus with someone else. Whether or not they come to share my joy in Jesus is up to God. He is one who shines “in our hearts to give the light of the [experiential] knowledge of God’s glory in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor. 4:6). 3) One of the glories of heaven is that there will be no unrequited joy. Every person in heaven will have full, eternal joy in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and in each other. There will be no joy that is not fully shared and appreciated by everyone else. We will all praise together. There will be no “Eeh, I suppose God is alright,” or “I don’t know . . . Jesus just doesn’t do much for me. I’m glad you like him, though.” Our joy will be full because it will be fully shared and experienced by everyone else.

Lack of Testimony = Lack of Life or Lack of Love

Ever been in church when the congregation is asked to share testimonies, and all you hear is the sound of crickets chirping? How is it that Christians can have no spiritual experience of God to share with each other? I’ve been in that situation plenty of times. I start scouring my brain for some truth, some idea, some encouragement to share, but nothing comes to mind. I usually feel kind of guilty that I can’t think of anything, and so I should! Not having something of a spiritual nature to share with others at church means I either have a lack of spiritual life, or a lack of spiritual love.

If I had experienced real spiritual life throughout the week, I’d have a testimony to share. The problem is, I lived like an atheist during the week. I hardly gave God a thought. I didn’t relate my experiences to him. I wasn’t reading or meditating on his Word. So I have no spiritual testimony to share because I spent the whole week focused on earthly things. “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth,” (Col. 3:2), and you will always have a testimony with which to encourage others.

Or it may be that I did experience God during the week. I thought about how he related to what I was going through. I read the Bible and meditated on it. But I just don’t have a very good memory. I forget things. I just can’t remember my experience of God in the past week, so I have nothing to share with others. But what I would like to blame on my poor memory is actually evidence of a lack of love for my brothers and sisters in Christ. The fact that I didn’t take steps to make sure I remembered my spiritual experience shows that I had no thought for how I could be a spiritual encouragement to the family of believers. The building up of the body, and how I could contribute to that building up, was not on my mind. I was not thinking about how I could serve others spiritually, and that is not loving.

Lord, forgive me for living like an atheist during the week. Forgive me for not loving the church. Help me to change!