I grew up, mostly, on the Southern Oregon coast where there is often too much water. In fact, my first year there in the 6th grade, we had two weeks off from school because of the flooding. I thought the weeks of rain terrible until it closed the schools. Creeks overflowed their banks and the Coquille River filled the whole valley. Buses couldn’t run. It was wonderful.
Only after a couple visits to the desert did I come to see water for what it is—life itself. On one of our many trips between Kansas and Oregon, Teckla and I found ourselves in the high desert of Utah looking left and right for Maple Grove Campground. We were baffled because on each side of the road all we could see were miles of sagebrush. Suddenly, we spotted a little sign that pointed up a dirt road. We could still see no trees, but there was now a ribbon of green on each side of a stream flowing along the road. Suddenly up and over a little hill we drove into a beautiful grove of maples flush against the hillside out of which the stream flowed. We had driven through the night to get there, so we pitched the tent, unrolled the sleeping bags, and fell asleep to the music of water over rocks.
My second visit to the desert was during a family trip to Anza-Borrego State Park. Our whole family hiked up a desert trail that followed a small stream. Only the places in direct contact with the water were green. But whatever the water touched was alive. At the end of the trail the stream fell over a huge granite boulder into a large pool shaded by palms. The boys grabbed dead palm fronds, sat on them, and as slid down the mossy granite into the pool. The water’s power to give life and joy filled my heart with a longing for more of the water Jesus promised those who follow him.
I have often prayed the promise Jesus made: “He who believes in Me, as the Scripture says, ‘From his innermost being shall flow rivers of living water” John 7: 38. I wish I could testify that this prayer is always, or even usually, followed by a bubbling up of God’s Spirit within me. I can’t. I usually feel nothing. I have come to see, however, that this prayer gets answered when I least expect it.
Often joy springs up when I am serving someone, giving to someone, or in some way ministering to their needs. When I am giving, the joy is flowing. During the darkest days surrounding my son’s death, I was preaching once a month at the local Presbyterian church. Declaring God’s Word to these precious people was life giving. The flow of love out of me shot joy into my grief.
Occasionally, I have felt God’s joy in some spiritually dark places. Many years ago, I did some evangelism at a Grateful Dead Concert at Kansas City’s Swope Park. The parking lot was an open drug market where you could buy every hallucinogenic: shrooms, peyote, weed, acid. I was clueless as to where or how to evangelize. I ended up sitting on a grassy hill behind the concert shell. I told the young people around me that I was there to talk to people about Jesus and eternal life and would be happy to answer any questions they had. At first they were silly or mocking, but I gave a sincere answer to each question. One by one, they began asking deeper and more genuine questions. When they left, the most vocal of the group came up, shook my hand, and said, “You gave good answers. Sorry, we gave you hard-time.” I was filled with a quiet joy because I knew God had flowed through me and helped me.
At the same the concert I young man brought his friend up to me and said, “Joe is having a bad trip. Can you help him?” Joe’s eyes were wide-open and full of terror. He was obviously seeing some horrible things. I have no idea why they had come to me, but I was filled with a joyful awareness of God’s presence. I asked, “Joe, do you want God’s help?” He just stared at me, so I asked a second time. Then I said, “He is here now.” When I said “now”, Joe was thrown back about ten feet onto the ground. As they scurried away, his friend said, “Dude, you are scary.” I had not felt anything except joy and the certainty God was present.
I have not had many of these kinds of power encounters. Usually, joy comes in the quiet upwelling of the Spirit when giving or serving. I have sometimes felt joy spring up while writing a check to someone who needs encouragement and some help. Blessing a grandchild always brings joy.
And of course, I experience joy when I get past myself and freely worship God. I often, as some say, begin in the flesh and end in the Spirit. In fact, sometimes the greatest joy comes when I make a decision to worship God despite how lousy I feel. There is a joy in knowing the enemy can’t touch my decision to praise God. My worship is out of reach and God’s unchanging goodness and kindness rules my life. Let it flow!
