If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full. I John 15:10-11

Sometimes, it’s not what I want that gets me into trouble. It’s when my desires, even noble ones, become the center of my life and the source of my joy. I dream of everyone I love embracing Jesus as I do. I want my family to flourish. I desire health for those I love and long life for aging parents. These are beautiful longings, but somewhere along the way, I can quietly assume responsibility for making them happen.

I become a crusader on a mission, investing my prayers, my love, my mentoring skills, even my finances, to help loved ones thrive. But the clock ticks slowly. People don’t change overnight, and while God is at work, they don’t always choose wisely. That’s troubling news if I’ve made their well-being the source of my joy. As they languish, I languish. Their setbacks become my emotional defeats. Joy is conditional. On good days, when things appear to be moving in the right direction, I relax. But with the next crisis, my hope plummets as I wait for circumstances to grant me permission to be happy.

Here’s the thing. Inexpressible joy cannot depend on life turning out as I hoped. I have to find it in the enjoyment of God, not treat His presence as the means of securing the life I want. He is the treasure, even when the life I’ve dreamed of remains out of reach.

In the early mornings, before I rehearse my concerns, I rehearse His goodness. Before I carry my loved ones into another day of anxious intercession, I remember that He loves them more than me. Their stories are not mine to control, and my joy was never meant to be held hostage by their choices.

Release me from the tyranny of outcomes. Amen