There is a thing I’m finding out.
It’s really true, I have no doubt.
It has to do with: What is joy?
A subject which, since as a boy,
I’ve struggled with, and has been real,
Complete with shadows which appeal
Straight to the heart which was made for
Pure joy itself, and nothing more.
–
And so within a lonely tension
I’ve struggled with this comprehension:
Just what is joy, and how’s it found?
And why can’t I see greener ground?
And who with certainty can say
Just when to leave, and where’s the way?
–
The problem is, I’ve always thought
Of joy like something sold or bought
Like: here is what you’re sposed to do,
Just X, Y, Z to a happy you.
But what, in fact, I’ve seen take place
Are happy people in the race.
They may not even know the way
Or what they’re doing the next day.
Yet still they run, content to be
To just be happy, hopeful, free!
And what it is, I’m finding out
That they’ve got along the route
Is not a certainty of mind
Or some sure knowledge that they’ll find
Some better thing along the way —
Their minds aren’t on another day!
What they’ve learned along the trip,
Is joy within relationship!
It’s what they have within their soul
They makes them joyful, happy, whole.
And so this thing I’m finding out
It makes me want to scream and shout!
People aren’t just there for kicks,
Joy is found in relationship!
–
Joy’s not a thing that’s other than
What happens, when, within a man,
He has someone along the way
To just be with, content, today.
Someone, like him, perplexed by fate.
With whom he can commiserate.
Or someone who within his eyes
Will stare and not his soul despise.
And likewise, he, at will can glare
Upon his friend, a peaceful stare.
And so most people when they see
A friend they know, or family,
They see a chance to bond again
To reconnect with that dear friend.
They’re not like “Crap, it’s her”, “Oh, Hey”
“I wish I could get on my way.
Because I’ve got this stuff to do,
This stuff, which once I know I’m through,
Will let me then be happy, free,
So you be you, and I’ll be me.”
They don’t see life like that at all.
They see each moment, big or small,
In terms of those around them there.
And any joy a soul can spare,
They’ll bring it out of them, in fact,
And make it big – then throw it back.
And so within this back and forth
A thing is born and starts to morph.
It grows into it, bit by bit;
This thing we call “relationship.”
–
Now at this time I’d like to pause
And contemplate the root, the cause.
Just why is it that joy is found
Not by yourself but at the sound
And sight and feel of someone else;
Who’s not just there and has a pulse,
But seems to be there by design,
And there at just the perfect time?
–
I think it speaks to who God is,
And to his Son, who made me His.
To Jesus Christ, Who long ago
From up above came down below,
To take my grief and make it his.
It’s really true, I know it is.
To take his perfect joy divine,
To lose it all and make it mine.
I can’t explain just how or why,
And still I will believe a lie.
But at my core I know it’s true
He bled and died for me and you.
He left His own community
To give his joy to you and me.
To save us from the shame of sin,
To save us to a life with Him!
Jack Somers 