No Greater Joy [Joy - Week 6]

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” ~ 3 John 4

Connor, our 4th born, is truly a family favorite! And this past weekend the whole crew gathered together in Birmingham, Alabama to celebrate his graduation from Samford University.

What a wonderful weekend. I’m not going to lie, watching Connor walk across the stage to receive his college diploma made my mama heart swell big time. Seriously, we are all so proud of him and his hard work. 

But later that night—After the ceremonies were over. After the dinner celebration had ended. After the gifts were given and the accolades issued. After the cap & gown were stuffed into the backseat of his pick up truck and the day wound down—Later that night, in bed, in the dark, and half asleep, I had my best JOY moment ever. 

Just before drifting off to sleep, I thought about my kids all there nestled under one roof for the night and I gave praise for God’s goodness gathering them together, but more importantly, gathering them to Him.

This young man who walked across the stage earlier that day to shake a hand and receive a degree, this young man walks with Jesus, as do his siblings.

The diplomas and awards and achievements my kids have earned over the years are all nice and worthy of celebration, but they absolutely pale in comparison to their relationships with Jesus.  

There is absolutely no greater joy than knowing they walk with Him. Nothing comes close. How can it possibly? We are talking about the difference between temporal and eternal. These accomplishments and achievements and gifts and gains are great and should be applauded, but they are only for the here and now. Someday they will be packed up in an attic or basement box and will begin to mildew or at the very least be completely forgotten. 

Like mine. This past winter I spent a good deal of time sorting through all of our boxes (and boxes and BOXES) of saved things. Mementos and memories and more stuff than any family should ever sanely accumulate. I came across my college diploma. And my high school and grade school diplomas too. And Rick's as well. I mean, honestly, what am I even supposed to do with these things?

In our storage area we have boxes from both of our parents and all of their parents and ourselves and our kids. It spans generations and generations. I could devote an entire room to family papers and mementos. A family records room of sorts! I’ve thought about it.

But at the end of the day, you and I both know we can’t take any of it with us in the end. It is just stuff.

It means something, sure. But not nearly enough. These things are for now, but they won’t get us to the finish line. Not even the fanciest of degrees.

So the real joy comes from knowing they are secure in Christ. They have placed their trust in Him. But please hear me--This is gratitude, not great boasting or bragging. I can boast of nothing. “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” Galatians 6:14. There’s nothing to boast about, but Jesus. If anything, it is humbling. 

And though I have great joy knowing they profess Jesus, I can promise you that doesn’t mean it is pretty and perfect and all tied up in a nice package. Not. At. All. If you know the McNatts, you know we are also messy, messy, messy. My kids might follow Jesus, but they also fall and fail and falter. Just like their mom and dad.

Walking with Jesus does’t mean everything is easy and effortless. Nope, we struggle. We sin. We mess up. We mess up again and again and again. And that’s where His GRACE comes in. 

We don’t need a diploma on the wall in a fancy frame we need the divine dispensation of His love come down for us. Come down to give us real hope and a real future. 

It is available for all. There’s no prerequisites required. No classes or conditions needed. It is ready and waiting and completely free for anyone willing to walk across the stage of life and bow at the feet of Jesus. 

Sure my job as a mom was to launch them out of the nest and into adulthood, but make no mistake, my biggest and most important job was always to lead them, best I could, to Jesus. And as I fight for joy this year, I wanted to share this true celebration with you all.

One last thing I feel like I must add--maybe you have a child's who isn't walking with the Lord. Let me encourage you--God's got them. If they have a mother or father praying for them, He hears your prayers and He is doing a work. Let's choose to trust Him. His timing is perfect and His ways are most tender. He is the Good Shepherd who leaves the 99 and returns for the one. He is that Jesus. 

This week I invite you to memorize with me --

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” 

~ 3 John 4

Faces in the Dirt [Joy - Week 5]

“Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”  ~ Nehemiah 8:10

Recently I purchased these little note cards with this joy verse and the cute hummingbird. Kind of sweet, right? Nehemiah 8:10 is an old favorite, but I guess, I always thought it was just about my potential for strength through God’s production of joy. 

The Lord’s Joy = Jody’s Strength!

Such a good deal. And whereas this is true, it is only part of the story found in this not-so-often-read book of Nehemiah. There’s a bigger story worth hearing which leads us up to this well known verse.  And, for the record, it has absolutely nothing to do with hummingbirds. 

Before “the joy of the Lord is your strength” part we have 70 years of Babylonian captivity and afterward almost 8 chapters covering 52 dramatic days in which Nehemiah is leading the people to rebuild the demolished city walls of Jerusalem. It is a period of hard work, great struggle, and even a good bit of drama. The project probably feels endless. The task relentless. The people are tired. There is no HGTV filming anywhere in sight.

But finally it is finished. And everyone comes together for a dedication. Ezra, the priest and teacher, stands up on a wooden platform and reads out loud to the people from the Book of the Law of Moses.

Imagine them all gathered below. Like a modern day concert. Except instead of entertainment and music, Ezra reads the law from morning to noon. We are talking hours here, people. Everyone just standing and listening. I know if our pastor goes a few minutes past noon in his Sunday morning sermon we all get little fidgety in our comfy seats. 

But the people of Jerusalem stay put and they listen. And, what's more, they are incredibly moved to three responses:

First they lift their hands and respond, “Amen! Amen!”

Then they bow down and put their faces on the ground.

Finally, they weep.

I am not a Bible scholar. I don’t know all the ins and outs of what prompted these people to weep. But gosh, they had just finished this prodigious project of rebuilding a massive city wall and it seems they should have been dancing and eating and drinking. Clearly a time for some good old fashioned merry-making. 

If we move into a new house or finish a renovation project we invite our friends over and pop the bubbly. We party. We don’t put our faces on the ground and weep (that happens in the middle of the project). We rejoice and we revel in our completion.  We celebrate!

But the people of Jerusalem lift hands, bow down and weep. 

Why?

Well, it seems they are absolutely overcome by God’s word, overwhelmed by His goodness, and repentant over their own sin. Have you ever been there? I sure have. It isn't pretty.

They must be considering the months leading up to this moment of dedication. Like I said earlier, months filled with hard work, but also with great drama. The people were turning against one another. Pointing fingers, stealing food, cheating neighbors. There was in-fighting and definitely some out-fighting. At one point Nehemiah was forced to assign half the workers to stand guard as protectors with spears while the other half continued to build. In addition, there were at least a couple of plots against Nehemiah’s life. I wasn't there, but I’m telling you, from what I read, it was a hot mess of a project. 

Then all of a sudden it is finally finished. And the people gather at the Water Gate (not to be confused with Nixon) and God’s Word is read and the people begin to weep and grieve. Not just a few delicate tears on upturned faces, but faces down in the dirt. That kind of grieving. Ugly crying.

And instead of Ezra and Nehemiah shaming them and chastising them and reminding them what a troublesome lot they all were, they instead encourage them saying, “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10

What a powerful display of God’s Word. How it can humble us when we stand before it. How it can take us right down to the ground in worship and weeping. BUT THEN bring us right back up to a place of joy. 

YES, the JOY of the Lord certainly IS our strength, but perhaps we must first see our shame, realize our need for repentance and bow humbly before this Lord who offers both joy and strength. 

In all of those crazy, dark days of rebuilding, Nehemiah kept turning to God. He kept praying. He kept asking the Lord to “strengthen his hands.” He kept leading the people with the help of God. Despite Nehemiah's faithful reliance on God, perhaps the people, though, didn’t quite get it until the project was over and then they found themselves overcome. They had to look back. They had to see it all complete. 

And they finally got it. And they grieved. 

Just like when we finally get it. When we realize how off course we’ve been and how little we deserve and what a hot mess we are. And then God says to us, do not grieve, the joy of the Lord is your strength. 

His Word becomes a most beautiful balm to our sad souls.

“I will take great delight in you! … I will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1

Like I wrote last week, so often, blurry is the line between sorrow and joy. They coexist. Sorrow and joy are not opposites. In fact, I would go so far as to say the joyful follower of Christ is probably also more in tune with sorrow than those who don’t know Jesus. Jesus, the Man of Sorrows.  Isn't it true, the closer we come to God the more we see our own sin clearly?

We are more aware of our great sin and more aware of His greater grace. We are sorrowful. Full of sorrow. And yet, because of His unconditional and steadfast love and mercy, the joy is more abundant than ever.   

And it is this unexpected and undeserved joy that becomes our strength in times of hardship. 

In one of Tim Keller’s messages he says, “The opposite of joy is not sorrow, but hopelessness.” The people of Jerusalem see the rebuilt wall before them as they hear Ezra reading. Despite all of their issues and in-fighting, Nehemiah reminds them they have hope. Yes, they have sorrow for their wrongful actions, but they have hope and they can have joy … and ultimately these things bring them the strength of the Lord.

God did this thing that they could never have done. He rebuilt the wall. He is the wall around them. He remains their fortress. He is their Rock. He is our Rock. 

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock,          in whom I take refuge.” ~ Psalm 18:2.  

This week, memorize this Nehemiah verse with me ... but remember the whole story!

“Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”  Nehemiah 8:10

Fear + Joy [Joy - Week Four]

“So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.” ~ Matthew 28:8

Afraid … yet filled with joy. That’s the JOY phrase I’d love us to focus on this Monday morning after Easter. 

Matthew tells us that the Marys came to the tomb of Jesus that 3rd day and, to their surprise, found an angel and an empty grave instead of their Lord.

Make no mistake, these were the same precious Marys who wept at the foot of his cross watching Christ crucified. With their own eyes, they saw their beloved Jesus die a brutal death. The next day they were the same Marys at the tomb when his broken body was wrapped and placed within. These women who loved Jesus with all their heart, were right there for all of it. Every body-wrenching, horrific, hellbent moment.

I’m not sure we can even begin to understand their sorrow. Did they sleep or eat even one bite during these dark days? Did their eyes ever stop pouring forth tears? I imagine not. 

And then the third day they come again to the tomb only to find an angel kind of casually sitting upon the stone and whose “appearance was like lightning and his clothes were white as snow.” The bright light of him surely must have felt like daggers in their tear-soaked, tired eyes. He was the last thing they expected to see. This angel who then went on to calmly relay, “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.” And because the angel knows these Marys are women and they are going to need proof of this, he continues, “Come and see the place where he lay.”

And the very next thing is a couple of Marys running out of the tomb and back into town full of both fear and joy. 

Fear and joy. Fear and joy. How can they possibly go together? Aren’t they seemingly opposed? Incongruous? Incompatible? 

And, yet, we know so often they do show up at the same time in our lives. Hand in hand. Like a couple of misfits.

Maybe, for the Marys, the fear was a bunch of what ifs …

What if the body of Jesus has been taken?

What if the angel is lying?

What if something even worse is about to happen?

But then this little seed of joy is somehow present and begins to grow in the midst of their fear and sorrow —

What if it’s true? 

What if Jesus has, indeed, risen? 

What if this casual, snowy-white angel is right?

Fear and joy. 

Oh, dear ones, this is the very same line we all seem to teeter upon all the time in our messy lives, is it not? Crossing back and forth between sorrow and joy. Between hope and fear. The lines blurry. The lines blend and bang and bump up against us and our fragile humanity. And even in the resurrection of Jesus — the greatest day, the most important moment of all time — we are given this example through the eyes of our dear Marys-----This! This is life here on earth. Uncertain. Unsure. Unconvinced. Unable to always know or see or predict or plan for.

A beautiful and bitter mix of sorrow and joy and fear and hope and it’s all tangled up together in a wild web and will be until the Lord returns and —

“everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.” Isaiah 35:10

Oh how poignant this is in my own health journey. Right now it is a constant dance on an ever-moving, always-changing line. One bad report. One good. One day of sorrow. Another brings joy. All of it so temporary. The emotions so overwhelming and, honestly, exhausting. I can’t ever quite seem to get my footing. 

The pet scan report was so good on Friday, but we still have these very accurate and very worrisome blood results. The images look good, but the blood hints at something perhaps hiding and growing somewhere we can’t quite see. Unfortunately, that’s what my kind of cancer just happens to do. And so I want to rejoice and relax, oh heavens, yes I do! And yet, after communicating with my doctor on Friday afternoon, I know vigilance is the name of this game. We cannot take our eye off the ball of this blasted cancer.

And some days, the fatigue feels almost crushing. Like I’m on the edge and constantly looking over. I'm so tired from looking over the edge. Maybe you're on an edge in your life too. Maybe you are running out of an empty tomb a little bewildered and a little bedraggled. Eyes red from constant crying. Body tired from lack of rest. Unsure what it all means. Afraid, yet, strangely, somehow, recognizing this seed of joy. Unable to fully understand. But running. Hoping. Hoping and running.

Kate Bowler in her book No Cure for Being Human wrote “you can’t live on the edge of the abyss forever.” And maybe that’s true, but we sure as heck do need some helping backing away from it. If there’s an edge in our lives we simply can’t help ourselves from staring over it, can we?

So I guess that’s what I’m writing about today. The permission for us all to fully realize life doesn’t exist in tidy boxes or well-labeled lanes. It’s not all joy or all sorrow or all this or all that. It’s everything. Mixed together. Mixed up and messy. That’s how we live in our current human curable or incurable state. 

That's how we live until that crown of everlasting joy is placed upon our head and all sorrow and sighing flees away. 

And that is why we can claim joy today regardless of the messy emotions and circumstances which circle around it. We have joy, because we have hope. Amen. 

This week, memorize with me and remember the Marys running out of the tomb ---

“So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.” ~ Matthew 28:8

Good News on Good Friday

Years ago I wrote a post called "When Bad Weeks End With Good Friday." That was the week I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. Fourteen years ago. April 19th, 2011.

I feel like I could use that same title again today. 

Yes! We did, indeed, get good news on this Good Friday. My results returned today and the scan looked good---No evidence of new disease and the spots that we've been concerned about actually showed some decrease. In fact, the one spot in my spine (L2/L5) wasn't even mentioned in the report. Why not? Where did it go? Did it not show up at all? My oncologist said she's going to check on that for me. But bottom line---the scan exceeded our expectations. Praise the Lord!

We aren't really sure what to do about those bad blood results I've been racking up lately (signatera). My doctor is working on that for me as well. We know lobular breast cancer is sneaky and it likes to hide in weird places in the body, but I am choosing to not worry about that tonight. Tonight I am simply praising God for the good news of a scan that honestly looks the best we've seen since I began this stage 4 journey three years ago. 

I have to tell you it was kind of a crazy day. The results came in just as I was getting ready to leave for the Good Friday service at our church with my Bible study girlfriends. After telling Rick and a quick text to our kids and family I walked into church and was able to share my good news with these dear friends who have been in the trenches with me. Then we squeezed into the last four empty seats in the packed out auditorium and worshipped Jesus together. Emotional doesn't begin to describe it.

Why has God a couple of different times connected my cancer journey to this week before Easter? Why does a Holy Week have to be such a hard week? I have an awful lot of thoughts on that. Probably more than you want to read on a Friday night. But to be brief, let me say at least this ---Good Friday. It really is the day that makes all the difference especially when we are walking through darkness. Jesus knows. He, the Son of God--The Actual Light of the World--He chose to endure the awful cross for us so we could face our future. No matter our diseases or diagnoses or disasters. His blood shed on Calvary paid every penalty and His resurrection from the tomb promises us all new life. No matter what. 

It really is a good Good Friday.

Finally, thank you for your many prayers and encouragement. It all means so much. Words can hardly express. I know you've got to be tired of hearing from me. I wish this cancer business would all just go away and I could focus on important things like what I'm growing in my garden or how cute my granddaughter is. I mean I try to strike a balance (lol). The truth is, this is my new normal, and unless Jesus completely intervenes, it probably will be forever. And though I get mad and sad and angry and afraid I am going to keep proclaiming the name of Jesus. He is High and Lifted Up. And He gets all the glory. 

"I will not die, but live, 

and will proclaim what the Lord has done." 

~ Psalm 118:24

Gratitude

In anticipation of my scan today (2pm), my sweet friend, Sue, created a prayer “sign up genius” earlier this week. I opened the link yesterday and found all kinds of friends — old and new (plus some names I didn’t even know) had filled the slots and were praying for me around the clock this week. What? Amazing, right? Insert crying face emoji.

Cancer doesn’t give a whole lot of good stuff, but THAT, my friends, is the VERY best of it. I felt immediately overwhelmed with the love and steadfastness of those around me. It is a physical lifting or buoyancy when we know we are being carried through hard things with prayer. Yep, hard stuff is going to come. Whether we follow Jesus or we don’t, we can all be assured life will bring some degree of difficulty. But when we have Jesus and His family acting as His hands, we get the joy of being carried through the hard. We are lifted up and carried above the pain of life. And that is all the difference. 

My whole life I have heard [and often used] the phrase “lifting you up in prayer,” but I probably don't always stop to think about how perfect a phrase it is. Yesterday opening up that link to the prayer sign up and seeing all those names listed was truly a sense of what it feels like to be LIFTED UP. 

It is also a tremendous humbling. I am humbled by the thought that people would take an hour of time to specifically pray for me and my family as we face yet another go around this week. Like I said, not a whole lot of good stuff with cancer, but I will never be able to call the Body of Christ serving and supporting and praying and lifting us anything but good. It is beyond good. It is a game-changer. A grace. A gift. And it leads me to humility and a heart of gratitude. 

This week I've received so many loving messages from you, dear ones. Your prayers, scripture passages and songs have all been such a great encouragement. Thank you for taking the time to send. You have lifted me up and brought joy. I am grateful.

My friend, Jane, sent me a link to one of my favorite songs and it kind of sums up where I am today as I prepare to head to my scan. 

Take a listen if you have a minute. You can click on this link:  Gratitude - by Brandon Lake

All my words fall short

I got nothing new

How could I express

All my gratitude?

I could sing these songs

As I often do

But every song must end

And You never do

So I throw up my hands

And praise You again and again

'Cause all that I have is a hallelujah

Hallelujah

And I know it's not much

But I've nothing else fit for a King

Except for a heart singing hallelujah

Hallelujah

I've got one response

I've got just one move

With my arm stretched wide

I will worship You

So I throw up my hands

And praise You again and again

'Cause all that I have is a hallelujah

Hallelujah

And I know it's not much

But I've nothing else fit for a King

Except for a heart singing hallelujah

Hallelujah

So come on, my soul

Oh, don't you get shy on me

Lift up your song

'Cause you've got a lion inside of those lungs

Get up and praise the Lord.

A Joyful Noise [Joy - Week Three]

“Oh come, let us a sing to the Lord; 

let us make a JOYFUL NOISE to the Rock of our Salvation.” 

Psalm 95:1

I'm a little late posting my Monday morning JOY message, but I am just getting home from a few days in New Orleans —the City of Music—with my daughters, Emily and Sarah, and my granddaughter, Mimi Grace. What a treat! 

At 19 months, Mimi is the absolute embodiment of a “joyful noise!”  We pretty much sang and danced our way through each day together. When music enters the scene, Mimi’s little face lights up and it doesn’t take much to get her hands clapping and her tiny feet stomping. 

This girl is happy AND she knows it! 

We sang in the kitchen and in the car. We sang in the backyard and in the bath tub. There were spontaneous dance parties in the family room and Sunday we even got to listen to a jazz musician playing his saxophone in the park. 

Honestly, it’s exactly what her grandma (Birdy) needed this week. There is something so health-bringing in a small child’s abandonment and energy especially when it comes to music.

My very favorite was hearing Mimi sing “Jesus Loves Me.” She’s not getting all the words quite yet, but she sings the ones that mostly count. Mimi’s version goes something like this:

“Jesus … Jesus … Jesus. Loves. Bible … Bible … Bible.”

Yep, that’s pretty much perfect in my book. And so true -- Jesus and His Word.  

As I headed home earlier today I wasn't allowed to pack up my little music-loving Mimi  and bring her back with me, but, you can be sure, I am following her lead and taking home her reminder to keep making joyful noises. 

To keep making music even in this week facing more scans.  (PET scan is Thursday).

Music releases something wonderful within us and I know it’s an important part of my search for joy right now. Though I’m not much a singer, I am grateful God has given me a deep love for the piano. I play most every day. But don’t be surprised if you stop over and find me marching around my kitchen banging a pot and singing at the top of my lungs, “If You’re Happy and You Know it!”  

So, friends, sing with me and memorize this week’s JOY verse in honor of my sweet granddaughter, Mimi: 

“Oh come, let us a sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of our Salvation.” Psalm 95:1

"The song of rejoicing softens hard hearts. It makes tears of godly sorrow flow from them. Singing summons the Holy Spirit. Happy praises offered in simplicity and love lead the faithful to complete harmony, without discord. Don't stop singing."  ~ Hildegard von Bingen

baby brother coming in June!

Good Medicine [JOY - Week Two]

"A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." 

~ Proverbs 17:22

some blooms from my late March yard

I love this week’s verse for a couple of reasons. First off, the good medicine part gives me a chance to explain a few things about how we are treating my cancer. And since several of you are asking and I am a teacher at heart, I will take a few words to explain.

Thankfully I have been on the same “first line” of treatment since my MBC diagnosis in 2022. We like that. But with my signatera numbers increasing (the bad news last week) that might point to progression of cancer and that might dictate a medication change. Sticking hard right now to the operative word MIGHT. We hope not, but we have to see what the April 17th scan shows. 

If cancer starts to outsmart my current treatment, we pivot. Definitely not putting the cart before the horse though because changing meds is a big deal. This is a long game and there aren’t that many different treatments. And treatment never ends. Yes, we are hopeful for more on the horizon and more research taking place all the time, but bottom line—I only have so many tools in the tool box. So we want to get every drop out of each protocol for as many months and years as possible. 

Secondly, I’m on the easy (relatively speaking) stuff right now. Each treatment becomes progressively harder on my body. I’m so grateful to have felt (mostly) good and have lived (mostly) normal these past three years. We want more of that. 

Remember the old game Whack A Mole? Treating my disease is a lot like that. Cancer pops up and we have to use the hammers to whack it back down. I kind of love this funny analogy. I also, by the way, love to hammer things in general though it does tend to make my family a tad nervous. At some point our medicine-hammer grows ineffective and we’ll need to pull out another. Thankfully, there are more hammers. They just get heavier and harder to handle. That’s a bit simplistic, but I wanted to make sure those of you following closely know, the rising numbers in my blood results don’t mean I am out of options. Oh no, dear ones, we are only getting going here. We have a tool box and we will use it all. And we will whack the heck out of those pesky moles for as long as God allows. At some point I might need your help holding the hammers. I am grateful for all of your offers already. You guys are amazing. 

I hope that explanation helps.

But now let’s talk about the verse we are memorizing this week from Proverbs, "A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." 

What a clear picture God gives us! A joyful heart is good medicine. It is health bringing and life sustaining. It improves everything around us for everyone around us. When there is joy there is life. Joy has often been called contagious. It is clearly captivating. It is always encouraging. 

We seek it. We search for it. We desire it deeply. Who doesn’t want to be around a joyful person? It draws us in. It spurs us on. It inspires us to be better, do better, want better. Like everyone says—it’s contagious. 

We feel good in the presence of joy. It is literally medicine for our weary, world-burdened souls. 

And yet sometimes in the difficulties of life we walk around with crushed spirits more than we do captivating joy. And isn’t it true that this internal crushing of spirit directly impacts our outer physical selves? When we are depressed or distraught or anxious or angry it can literally cause our bodies to be sick. To feel heavy. To feel like a hot mess. To hurt. To hurt others even. Have you ever been there? I certainly have.

A crushed spirit dries up the bones. With breast cancer currently setting up shop in my bones, these words have my full attention. I am doing all kinds of things to help strengthen and protect my skeleton. I try to eat right and exercise for strength and every few months I am even given an infusion called Zometa to keep my bones as strong as possible. Zometa is an IV medication which requires me to sit for an hour or so in a large chemotherapy center of my hospital. If you’ve ever been in this kind of room it isn’t the most joyful place. It is very much a bone-crushing, heart-wrenching sort of place. I think there are over 100 chairs in my location and often they are all full. 

That’s the reality of cancer. But over these past three years of going to the chemo room I have on so many occasions bumped into someone who oozes joy. And, let me tell you, it is just amazing to see. Humbling. Heart-thumping. Breath-catching. Especially in a place like this. It stands out. It stands up. It stands true. It stands! Even in the midst of all these beaten up bodies and broken down spirits, joy is a beacon of light. Maybe even hope. 

In a weird way, finding joy in the chemo room reminds me of my time spent in a little village in Ndola, Zambia years ago. My first morning there I attended their tiny village church. The area scattered around it felt bereft, broken-down, dusty, hot, fly-infested and seemingly held together by scraps of discarded materials. Some of the children barefoot and barely clothed. The people tired looking and lean. It was like nothing I had ever before seen and yet the Sunday service started and that was when the never-before-seen-surprise truly became clear. I couldn’t hardly understand a word of what was being preached or sung, but I can tell you it was the language of joy. The worship was at a level of joy unparalleled since. I will never forget the faces of my new friends in rapturous praise. The music. The intensity. The sincerity. The love of our Father transcends all language. I was changed that morning in a hot, dusty church in the middle of Africa.The Bemba words might have been indistinguishable, but the message was clear as bright day--Joy. 

If I can find joy in people in places like these—harsh chemo rooms and destitute villages—how can we not find it and choose it in our more comfortable places as well.  We can take the good medicine. We can bring life back to our bones and courage to our crushed spirits. We can with the help of Jesus. He is not limited to the lovely. He came for the sick. He came for the broken. He came for the beaten up and badly bruised. He came for the sinner. He came for the person who sees themselves as a lost cause. 

Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." Mark 2:17

Read that again. Do you hear the good news of this verse? There is nothing which can separate us from the joy of Jesus. 

There is no need to clean ourselves up or even get our ducks all lined up. No. He didn’t come for clean people with perfect ducks. The healthy do not need a doctor. The perfect people don’t need a Savior. He came for the sick and the sinful. And that, my friends, is all of us. And He wants to heal with the good news which is joy. Don’t wait. Ask Him for it even right now. Today. 

Memorize with me Proverbs 17:22. Meditate upon it. Marinate in it this week. 

Allow yourself the infusion of His joy. 

The medicine of our Messiah.

And live.  

But What if the Morning Doesn't Bring Joy?

"Weeping may tarry for the night, BUT joy comes in the morning." ~ Psalm 30:5

That's been our verse this week. Our JOY verse to memorize, meditate upon, and marinate our weary souls in. 

And I believe it. I believe it is true. I believe it is a promise of our True God.

But [still] I have to ask the hard question some of us want to ask --- 

What if the morning doesn't bring joy? 

What if wake up in our new day and the news isn't good? Or that phone call comes? Or the pink slip is given? Or the drugs are found? Or the loved one is sick? Or the marriage is gone?

What then? 

What happens when THAT is what our morning looks like?

Well, if you're willing to read on a bit, I can tell you from my experience.

I had no sooner posted that verse and invited y'all on a joy journey at the beginning of this week, when my blood results dropped their sorry selves into my portal early Monday morning. I woke up ready for that "joy comes in the morning" feeling, but instead came news that my blood work is continuing to trend toward cancer's progression. 

Quick cancer explanation: doctors are following me with a new test called Signatera. It is new science, very accurate and very sensitive as it tests my blood and compares it to my original tumor. It measures  the shedding of cancer cells per molecules of bloodn (ctDNA). It can basically see cancer progressing even before appearing on a scan. It's helpful information, but so new, that doctors aren't even quite sure what to do with it. I had several negatives early on, but the past several months have shown positive. More on this later.

Anyway, the news was not at all what we hoped for. My number actually took a big jump up. Cancer is brewing. I've been pretty stable for 3 years and the cancer has appeared to stay sleepy, but these results are pointing to new growth or activation. Not at all what we wanted. The doctors will move up my scans --- April 17th I will have a PET scan and we will take a closer look.

So that's that business. 

But back to joy. I know some of you want to know what is Jody going to claim she believes now? Maybe a few of you are wondering what in the world did I just encourage you to all sign up for? 

Yeah, I get it. I know how you feel.  I had that discussion with God right away Monday morning. It went something like this, "Lord, I want to pursue joy. I do. I want to chase it each day and share it with others. I want to live glorifying Your Name. But you're making it kind of hard here. You gave me this plan and then you've kind of blown it up right out of the gate. You told me JOY was to be my word this year, even though I refused it at first. You were relentless. But now this? Journey to joy and yet Jody gets bad news right off the bat of acknowledging her need for joy. What the heck is that all about? What am I supposed to do with that nonsense now?"

And, like He so often does, He whispered His words tenderly into my broken and sad spirit---Jody, my daughter, this isn't Me dropping the ball. This isn't Me turning my back on you. This is Me pointing you to a deeper truth, a deeper trust, a deeper treasure. Trust me. Trust me. Trust me. I love you. 

Even though I was still kind of mad and sad, I told Him I would continue to trust Him. I know it is what I must do. Even with this disappointing news. Even now. Even this.

In the words of holocaust survivor Corrie ten Boom: "Joy runs deeper than despair." 

And over the past few days God continues to remind me about what joy is and isn't---

Joy isn't something that happens when everything is going great. 

Joy isn't something that occurs only when the news is good and the results are what we want.

Joy isn't only for days of sunshine. It is found in storms as well. 

Joy isn't dependent on our circumstances or our current situation or the status of our personal lives.

I know I've shared this before, but I can't help keep coming back to the wise words of Elisabeth Elliott. "The secret of JOY is Christ in me--not me in a different set of circumstances."   

Being dealt a better hand of cards isn't where joy is to be found. But that lesson is SO hard to learn.  For all of us. It is easy to find ourselves living in the world of "if onlies."   If only I was happily married. If only I had more children. If only I had less children (sorry, =) that was for the sake of humor). If only I had a better job or a bigger bank account or a nicer house. If only I was thinner, prettier, smarter, richer, taller, stronger ... If only I didn't have debt, addiction, anxiety, cancer.

When God breathed Psalm 30:5 through the quill of David, "Joy comes in the morning," He was using a metaphor to remind us that this night or season or situation will pass and joy will come. Yes, dear ones,  joy WILL come. When we follow our Father and trust His hand, joy IS absolutely our end result whatever the results are right now. It is a joyful hope we are given to hold close as we walk closely with Him. 

The joy is in the beautiful expectation of what He is doing and what He will do. 

Tim Keller, said these wise words,  "for a Christian joy is always on the way, because the one in charge of us and in charge of our whole universe is our Father."  

Joy isn't a perfect life. Nowhere did Jesus promise that. In fact, it was quite the opposite. "In this world you WILL have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33 

Right now while living in this broken world  -- Trouble!

Right now while living in this busted up life  -- Weeping.

But someday ... FULL and PERFECT JOY. 

But hear me, that doesn't mean we can't experience real joy in some way right now. We can and He wants us to chase it. He wants us to pursue a life closer to Him so He can show us real joy EVEN in the midst of real hard life. It's not going to be the joy of heaven. We are going to wake up some Monday mornings and get bad news, but because we get to trust in Him and walk with Him there will be real joy found even in real life. Even when the weeping continues on and into our mornings. 

Joy is coming.

Let's keep chasing it.  

Rick sent me that beautiful bouquet of florals on Monday after we received the not so nice news.
The flowers are gorgeous, but his message on the card is most precious. 

"Jesus did not promise to change the circumstances around us. He promised great peace and pure joy to those who would learn to believe that God actually controls all things." ~ Corrie ten Boom

Joy! Journey With Me - Week One

Recently I shared God’s prompting to make JOY my word for this year. Though it goes against my present circumstances and even against my very nature right now I found this word impossible to ignore. As I said in my last blog, I didn’t choose joy, it chose me.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work at it every single day. In the spirit of doing so, I realize God’s Word is key. There is a natural arrangement and result when we deliberately train our minds and fix our thoughts. What we practice and profess does help determine what we produce.

As a mom, I said often to my kids growing up, “garbage in, garbage out.” They might have occasionally rolled their eyes at me, but it's true, if we are going to allow ourselves to watch, read or listen to ugly messaging, it is going to ultimately affect us. We have to be careful what we open the door to and invite in. Makes sense, right? My kids are probably more prone to believe me now that they have lived a little. 

I’ve always found Philippians 4:8 to be a good guardrail or filter. It instructs us to “think on these things.”  What things? “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” 

Think on THESE things.

For me, joy isn’t going to “just happen” because I wrote a blog post about it. Not even because I claimed it as my 2025 word. Nope. It will take much more on my part. It will take a good bit of deliberation, dedication, and, ultimately, doing something. 

Psalm 119:11 reminds, “Your word I have hidden in my heart…”

Hebrews 12: 2 instructs, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith …”

The Bottom Line: If I am serious about pursuing JOY this year I am going to have to get busy hiding God’s word in my heart and fixing my eyes on Him. 

Hiding and fixing — Notice these are, indeed, words of action!  So often we feel we can't do anything. And maybe we can't do anything to change our circumstances, but we CAN DO something to change ourselves. 

So, that’s the plan starting today. What’s more, I’d love to invite YOU along for the ride. Each week I will share a different JOY verse which I will be memorizing + meditating upon. I am 100% open to some company. There’s nothing to sign up for and nothing to buy, but let me know if you’re willing to walk along this road a bit with me.

Zero pressure, but it sure does feel like most everyone I talk to these days is desiring a little more joy in their life. If that’s the case, we can do something about it! 

We can’t always control our circumstances — our disappointments, disasters, diagnoses, demands, difficulties, debilitations — but we can absolutely DECIDE how we are going to respond to them and in them.  

That’s where joy comes in.

Each Sunday night or Monday morning I plan to share a JOY verse for us to memorize and meditate upon for that week. God’s word is powerful and it becomes even more alive when we choose to massage it deeply into our most vulnerable places.

Joy Verse Week One:

“Weeping may tarry for the night, but JOY comes with the morning.” Psalm 30:5

It has been a verse I’ve held close since I was young. I remember reading it after a high school break up. Silly now, maybe. But back then I remember being So Sad. So crushed. So rejected and the truth of this verse struck me maybe for the first time in my young life.

As miserable as I was all night long, things looked a little different in the light of new day. Nothing had changed. My circumstances hadn’t altered. My boyfriend and I were still broken up. But, yet, something had somehow shifted in the light of morning.

That shift allowed me a little glimpse into the truth that I would be okay. I would get through this. I would not weep over this boy the rest of my life or, truth be told, even the rest of that week. LOL. [Gotta love high school romances].

That’s a silly little, long, long, long ago story, but I use it to illustrate the idea of how different things can look between night and day. 

Nighttime is so often hard for me. I assure you I am not weeping about boyfriends anymore (SUCH a funny thought)! No, it's heavier stuff these days.  In those middle of the night hours I am easy prey. I am open for attack. I am vulnerable. It is when the “what ifs” wrestle with me most. It is when I worry most. It is when I weep most. 

And yet each morning when I rise and see the sun and anticipate the new day, the joy somehow bubbles up inside me in ways I cannot begin to explain.  It declares over me a fresh start, a new beginning, anticipation and expectation. I find myself almost surprised. How can this even be? It is, truly, a night and day difference. That simple shift from night to day is everything. I don’t even quite understand how it happens. But it does. And the Bible tells me that is how it works. And, yet, still I find myself baffled. 

I want to remind you (and me) whatever we are going through isn’t forever. Not even me with a terminal diagnosis. It is not forever. Weeping may tarry for the night, but JOY comes in the morning.

Let’s remind ourselves of that truth this week. 

So for this first week of my JOY journey let’s go ahead and do the following —

MEMORIZE Psalm 30:5 

MEDITATE upon it.

and MASSAGE God’s promise into our most vulnerable places this week. 

Yes, there's not always much we can do about that weeping at night, but we can remind ourselves that in the new light of day, we will find a bit of joy again. We might have to look. We might have to choose. We might even have to chase it, but, rest assured, it will be found.

 “Weeping may tarry for the night, but JOY comes with the morning.” ~ Psalm 30:5

The Word Is

I couldn’t write about it in January. I tried a time or two in February, but here it is now past the middle of March and I am still struggling to get this post out there.

It seemed everyone else was sharing their “word for the year” in a timely fashion. And though mine was also sitting ready and waiting and incredibly clear, for some reason, it felt too raw and I felt too unready to fully claim it. 

Truth is, the word felt too unrealistic. 

I don’t always choose a word. It’s a great practice, but not one in which I regularly engage. Maybe it’s because, verbose as I am, there seem to always be more than a few possibilities flitting around inside this woman’s wild brain. 

Like the flowers in my yard. How can I possible choose just one? So many favorites. For so many reasons. Books also fall easily into this same category. Too many to count. Desserts? Yes, those as well. So as tidy as a top ten list can be, I don’t often take part in this particular practice. 

This January, however, the word wouldn’t escape me. I kept seeing it everywhere. Even when I tried to ignore it, turn it away, deny it's knocking at my door. It kept popping up in the most peculiar of places. I’d open a book. I’d glance at a sign. I’d see it on social media or read it on a bumper sticker on the car ahead of me. It would come up in conversation.

Everywhere I looked, there it was — JOY. 

The clincher occurred when driving down my street one day. I was literally debating with myself about whether I was going to accept this word when I happened to look left and there it was in enormous life size letters in a neighbor’s front yard - J O Y! I laughed out loud. Leftover Christmas decoration for sure, but still hard to miss it’s bold proclamation - JOY! And the deal was done -- JOY would be my word for 2025. 

I didn’t choose joy. Joy chose me.

But I continued to argue—Come on, God. It’s really not the word for a girl with a diagnosis like mine. It’s just not. Trust. Hope. Peace. Strength. Faith. Those seem to be much more appropriate, right? 

So, really, what the heck am I supposed to do with joy?

But, like it or not, that was the unavoidable word in my head since early January. In my head and in my heart. The message was clear:

“The JOY of the Lord is my strength.” Nehemiah 8:10

But joy isn't always what most marks my days. It's been three years with this cancer business, and frankly, I’m a little over it. I told my girlfriends recently, I’d like to move on. I’d like to move off this script and out of this groove and on to some other things. There are so many other things I would rather do. Things I want to do.

This story line is getting a little worn out. 

This woman is growing more than a little weary. 

I’d like a change. I’d like to think about something other than cancer. Every day. All the time. It is a heavy, low hanging cloud over my head. Others can’t really see it, but I promise you, it is there. Dark and stormy and more than a little ominous.

So I suppose it was almost like a switch finally flipped this year. Cancer isn’t going away, but I still have some skin in this game. I still have a some say on how I am going to live with this yuck. I spent the first three years navigating all the not so nice things about metastatic cancer. It took me every single day of all three years — 1,095 days — to finally figure out that if I am going to truly live with cancer, I must make some changes to pursue joy. There was work to be done.

I know it looked like I was maybe already doing that. I was certainly trying. But, letting you in on a secret, I often felt a little fake. I was a fraud. I was, at times, just pretending to have joy. More often than not, inside of me was a battle brewing and a war a-waging. 

I could be hosting a party or having a good laugh. and yet still … there was a dread level so deep and so high I found myself choking on it at times. Coughing. Sputtering. Running into the bathroom for fear I would throw up my fear. I was liable to spew the anxiety most anywhere. I left gatherings abruptly. I ended conversations quickly. I fled from groups of women laughing or complaining about topics like “getting old” or talking about the “someday we will” kind of stuff. I developed a low tolerance for shallow and an aversion toward chit chat. It is still hard. 

I don’t know how you can be given this kind of news and not have it be so.

Before this nasty diagnosis, I had people who liked to label me a bit of a Pollyanna. Perhaps there was some truth to that. I typically chose the sunny side of the street, but that is not even remotely possible these days. Call me fake, yes, but not flighty. I can pretend all is well, but I cannot push it into the category of pretty. Nope. Not one bit. 

And you know what?  That is not at all what my faith in Jesus requires. 

He doesn’t expect me to pretend all is well. 

He doesn’t expect me to put on a happy face. 

He doesn’t expect me to say nice things about my struggles.

No. He gives me full permission to be real, raw and rough. 

But even in that, I can still choose joy. Because joy isn’t a happy face. Joy isn’t a pretense. Joy isn't pretending. Joy is knowing what I know and facing what I face and having confidence that Jesus still holds me and my future in His loving hands. Joy is getting to actually believe that whatever happens God LOVES me and has promised GOOD for me.

Not to just say it, but to actually believe it. The difference is everything. 

Happiness is a trip to target or a new pair of shoes.  Joy is having no shoes and knowing God has toughened my feet for the places I must go.  [Target not necessarily being one of them].

Joy is also a choice. 

It is a choice we must make over and over and over again. Like maybe everyday. Every morning. When I first started down this unkind road I began a daily practice. I’d get out of bed and as soon as my feet touched the floor boards I’d declare Psalm 118:24, “This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.” 

That was it. That was all I could muster up for awhile. Just an out loud declarative statement to the walls of my bedroom.  Even though my stomach felt queasy and my legs shaky. Yep, it did feel a little fake and somedays it still does. But, even so, I knew it was good medicine for me. 

Because joy is also a training exercise, and, believe it or not, an act of obedience. I can’t rejoice if I don’t remind myself to rejoice. I can’t choose joy if I don’t consider it a choice or an option each day. It is an act of will. It then can become an act of worship. And that act of worship can then become who I actually am. It reshapes me. Worship helps ease the worry. Ann Voskamp said “The answer to deep anxiety is the deep adoration of God.” It's true, worship and anxiety simply cannot easily occupy the same space. One will always crowd out the other. 

So my mind must turn to worship. To praising God. All the day long. When my feet hit the floor each morning. When I stand at the sink scrubbing pots. When I am outside pruning or digging or raking or watering. Certainly when I wake at 2am and the darkness and demons of fear begin their relentless attack. Worship. Worship. Worship.

It is my best defense. My only offense. 

I grew up in a church where we sang the old Fanny Crosby hymn, Blessed Assurance, a lot. Like I might have rolled my 12 year old eyes at how much we sang it. Really? This song, again? 

This is my story, this is my song.  

Praising my Savior all the day long.

This is my story, this is my song,

Praising my Savior all the day long.

That’s the refrain. The word refrain as a noun means to repeat over and over again. I guess God knew I would need that song imbedded in my mind. I sure do now. I can still hear it in the house in which I grew up. My grandpa would sing it and my dad liked to whistle it. Now it is my voice I hear. And it is on repeat. All the day long.

This is my story. This is my song. 

I would never have signed up for this story, friends. You know that’s true. No one signs up for the hard things in life. But here we are. Me. You. All of us with something difficult. All of us with a story. All of us with the choice to turn that story into a song and learn to praise our Savior all the day long. 

Will you sing with me?

Let me say for the 1000th time. Nothing else will work. Go ahead and keep trying. We can try our self-help and self-healing and self-protecting and self-centered care. At some point we will find ourself at the end of ourself. Exactly where we started. Because our selves were never meant to be God. Boy do we try though. It is the very nature of our sin—self worship. It might be satan’s biggest and baddest lie.

It started with the whispered words of the serpent in the garden. “When you eat from that tree, you will know things you have never known before. Like God, you will be able to tell the difference between good and evil.” Genesis 3:4-6

Did you hear him? “You will know things.” 

Oh, he had her. You will be Like God. You will be your own god. You will call the shots. You will hold the cards. You will have control. You will determine your future. Plant your flag. Plan your steps. Plot your path. Write your own story. 

Who doesn’t want that? It is exactly what our sin-nature craves. All of us. No one excluded. The world tells us it's so!

Except then the story takes a twist. The plot takes an awful turn. Cancer comes. A job is lost. A friend betrays. Addiction takes over. Divorce blindsides. A child dies. A house burns down. A life goes up in flames.

At some point we all find ourselves in some set of circumstances we probably wouldn’t choose. We can hope the situation changes. And it might. Or it might not. And if it doesn’t we just might have to figure out how to live with it. 

Stage 4 feels a little bit like that. It isn’t curable. There is no end to treatment. No bell to ring. No finish line to cross. It is living every day with cancer already spread inside of me. I don’t exactly get a choice in what the cancer does. But I DO get a choice in what Jody does and who she is and how she desires to live the days God has already written for her. Years ago, when I was teaching, I often shared with my students a Lou Holtz quote, "Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you respond to it." I never dreamed cancer would be the thing which would put that favorite saying to the test for me. We don't dream of the hard things or the sad stories.  

Maybe the story becomes something you’d never agree to write. So what do you do? How do you fix it when it wasn’t what you had planned? How do you live with it when you can't fix it? 

There is no earthly answer. Like I said, go ahead and try all the 12 and 200 step approaches you want but  dear one we must surrender to the One who has already authored the end. Whatever the diagnosis,  whatever the results,  whatever the reality … surrender. And, maybe, choose joy. 

This is my story. This is my song. Praising my Savior. All the day long.

“I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4: 12-13

“Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”  1 Thessalonians 5:16-18

“The secret of joy is Christ in me—not me in a different set of circumstances.” Elisabeth Elliott 

*** One last thing! 

This week on the way home from a little hike with Bella she said "mom, let me play my new favorite song for you." 

And without knowing anything about my "joy" issues she played, "Cant Steal My Joy" by Brandon Lake and Josiah Queen. 

And so I listened to the lyrics of my daughter's new favorite song and I smiled, "Yep, okay God. Joy is my word."  

Saw this at our local Goodwill store!

The car ahead of me in traffic