Not an Easy Path, But a Joyful One

Here in America we live in an era of unparalleled health, prosperity and comfort.  Few if any go hungry on any given day, and most of us do not know somebody personally who is homeless.  Economic opportunities abound and the middle class today enjoy more comfort and wealth than the rich of a hundred years ago.  There is more recreation and entertainment available to us than any previous time.  We have every reason to be happy and yet so many of us are not.  Our pantries our full, but our hearts are empty.  Our houses are filled with electric lights, but darkness clouds our souls.  Depression and suicide rates climb, and we are left shaking our heads in wonder.  In a country of unparalleled wealth, it seems happiness is at a premium.  

We struggle for happiness, but instead we find ourselves filled with sadness, anger and despair.  And every person around us is just as miserable as we are.  Is there anyone who knows what it means to be happy and can perhaps point the way to joy we ultimately crave?

As a child and teenager I had the opportunity to know many who were not just happy, but were filled with the joy of the Lord.  This was not just happiness drawn from having a good job and a healthy family, but a joy drawn from a loving relationship with the Lord.  These people became the guideposts that would point me in the right direction in my quest to find that joy of the Lord. 

I was ten or eleven when I first met Greg Dahlmann.  At the time my family was going to a conservative Baptist church and I attended the Christian school it sponsored.  Mr. Dahlmann was one of my teachers.  He was a large man, tall and robust with a zeal for the Lord that was palpable.  Every day I saw him at church or school he had a smile and an encouraging word.  As you can imagine, teaching at a small Christian school was not making him much money, but I never heard him complain.  He was doing God's will for his life, he was gladly serving others and the joy this gave him was radiant. 

It wasn't just him, but his whole family was happier than most, they all loved the Lord and this filled them with joy.  Sometimes I would go to their home, which was next door to the church and get my haircut or just hang out, be baby-sat, until my mom, who also taught at the school, was ready to go.  Their home was a peaceful, happy place and I enjoyed the times I spent there.

At times Mr. Dahlmann and his wife would sing during church services and they would hold hands as they sang.  Even as a boy, it was clear to me that they were singing, serving, doing all that they did, not from a sense of duty, but from joy.  They loved the Lord and they loved each other and this rang clear in their voices as they sang.  Joy radiated from their faces and their lives and it was appealing to me.  I wanted what they had. 

When I became a young teenager at that church I joined the youth group and got to know the youth pastor, Phillip Lovell.  He was over seven feet tall and nearly as broad.  Larger than life in nearly every way.  He was intelligent and winsome, it was hard not to like him.  The thing about him that sticks in my mind the most is that he always was whistling some gospel song.  Wherever he went, whatever he was doing, his heart was so full of joy that a song would spontaneously burst forth from him.  This, I believe, is the purest form of praise and worship, when our hearts are so full of love and joy in the Lord that a song bubbles forth almost of its own accord.  To this day, I still look to this habit as a touchstone for my own joy.  Do I have a song of praise in my heart?  Am I whistling, humming, singing praise to the Lord at random, inspired by nothing more than my love for Him?  Most days this is a challenge for me.  

Pastor Lovell loved the Lord and was dedicated to serving Him.  He worked hard all day at the church and school and then worked a night job as well unpacking boxes at a department store.  His hands would become dry and cracked from handling the cardboard.  No doubt he grew weary, but he always had a smile and an encouraging word to share.  His joy was a light that drew me and many others to him and inspired me to follow his example, to pursue the same joy he had.  

There are certainly other men and women that I have known over the years that demonstrated this same kind of joy, an effervescent, radiant kind of joy, that draws people in like a magnet.  It has been years since I have seen or talked to these people, I wish I could ask them what the source of their joy was.  These men helped me to see as a boy that joy was possible, it was achievable and desirable.  Like a tour guide, they showed me the way that my journey might take, not an easy path, but a joyful one in the end.