Overjoyed even in the winds of fear.

Focus to find the pull of joy in a red flag era.

Lately, we’ve been through it. There’s been a lot to think about and process. There seems to be a steady stream of things to concern our minds. Even if you’re among those who say they don’t watch the news, it’s hard not to pick up the static of panic in the environment by simply moving through your day. It’s like knowing all the words to the song Sweet Caroline but never having bought a Neil Diamond album. Some ideas just sort of leak into your mind from unchosen sources.

It’s got me thinking about more enjoyable ways to exist amid the dire predictions and wild swings in fortune that seem to loom each day. I suppose I’ve not found the place where the wood drake rests in beauty on the water, as Wendell Berry writes. I certainly know the prospect of living “in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be.”

If we want certainty in this life, a trouble-free experience, I’m afraid it’s not on offer. So when the reasons for fear cycle through our minds, our freedom to choose our focus becomes more critical.

Fly a kite

A couple of weeks ago, we had our first (to my knowledge) “red flag warning” since moving to San Diego County in May. Before I heard about the reasons to be worried, and it’s a legitimate list, I noticed the sustained winds in the palm fronds high over our place. I was thinking about how, later in the day, I’d be responsible for recreation activities for an after-school program for a group of young elementary-aged kiddos. I immediately thought of bringing my large beach kite. On vacation, I used to fly the beauty of a kite off the Carolina and Florida coasts. This would be its maiden flight on western winds, and I knew it would do well in the wind on this day.

I arrived early and sent the kite aloft, paying out line on the thousand-foot spool for a few hundred feet. The kite came alive with the strength to climb higher, but I stopped about a hundred and fifty feet up. The children started to arrive and immediately were interested. They all got in a cooperative line for their chance to fly. Several of these sheltered iPad-generation young’uns had never flown a kite, so they were super excited.

But then there was Christopher.

Christopher patiently waited for his turn and took over the spool. The kite tugged hard, and feeling the aliveness and connection with something approaching uncontrollable, his joy surpassed the others. The kite swayed and dipped, animated by a force nearly overpowering Christopher’s grip. All the kids were joyful, but compared with everyone else, Christopher was something nearer overjoyed.

Overjoyed

The experience of being overjoyed appears in scripture. It’s an experience that is nearly foreign to me. Heck, joy can be elusive for me. I can be the weatherman of any moment: "It’s sunny now, but I can see some clouds coming.” I am not naturally joyful, and staying on the ride to the next stop of being overjoyed seems like a bridge too far.

This factory preset is made a bit worse by being a Christian. As spiritual people (of any flavor), I think we are easy targets for this way of interacting with joy. We’re invested in the world's wellness in a way that can make joy feel undeserved in the face of so much concern and pain. We may have convinced ourselves that in the face of Red Flag warnings and the long list of worries (legitimate and accurate), we are best to reign in our joy. We might think being tamped down in the joy department has more utility.

Here are some questions to consider:

Does suppressing God-given joy help anyone’s struggle? Does curbing my experience of pleasure alleviate suffering?

Does my joy and praise mean all is right in the world? Or am I okay with it all?

We face a fundamental task in working to see the world heal. Do we think our being absorbed in some worry and struggle is the first step to healing the world?

Or what if the first step the world could use in healing looks different than our furrowed brow? What if the world saw us exhibit our joy amid whatever struggle there is in this moment? That would speak to a victory that’s yet to be fully seen but of which we profess to have now.

Joy is an act of worship.

When I noticed how taken Christopher was, I realized I was smiling at him smiling. I found joy in him having joy.

Who smiles at you smiling? There are people in your life, I suspect. But could you allow God to smile at your joy?

I’m not Christopher’s father, but I could imagine nothing would give his father more joy than seeing this joy on Christopher’s face. Not for the act of kite flying but because joy on his face says more about how he is in the moment. It says he’s relaxed, unafraid, and has the time and energy to enjoy a moment. He is at rest in all those truths.

Father Gregory Boyle shared that our worship can sometimes be as simple as this:

“Behold the One beholding you and smiling.”

― Gregory Boyle, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion

The Red Alerts are real, but so too is our joy.

To be precise, I can tell you that the political winds have brought some real concerns for Christopher and his community. There is a plan blowing in hard to deport his neighbors, perhaps even some of his family. Many of them have been here working and raising families for decades. It is easy to be consumed by the threats and all that could mean.

I can’t control the winds, but I can decide what to do with them. I can ruminate on the list of potential things to fear and become absorbed by what may happen. Or I can hand out kites and see the reason for joy in the moment we do have.

Be well friends.