On the flight back to Asia I sat next to an older Thai man. At one point during our conversations he said, “How do you define ‘success’? For me, I would answer that with another question: How many times a week do you have tears of joy?”
His statement struck me deeply. I am still pondering over what he said. This was unlike any kind of success I’ve ever heard of from anywhere else before – not like anything I’d heard from culture, religion, teachers, politicians, businessmen, or pastors. I immediately liked how it sounded. I liked the idea. I liked the perspective his words offered. But it wasn’t until three days later I began to understand perhaps what it meant.
I arrived back in Asia dazed. How on earth has this happened again? I asked. How did I manage to end up here again? What kind of path in life is this supposed to be? After living in Asia for almost a year, I am still trying to figure out how I got here. Because it all happened so fast, even though I can see my whole life had been slowly leading up to it. It has been a fun journey. It has been an adventurous ride. It has been a priceless gift that I would not trade for anything. But it has been difficult. It has been a bloody battle, a continuous struggle, and a painful hike. So, although I am so glad to return to Asia for another year, I am tired – exhausted, in fact. I feel drained. All my “life muscles” are sore that any range of motion hurts. I am broken down. I am overwhelmed. I am hurting. And I am often on the verge of giving up completely.
But that is OK. That is OK because sometimes life is like that and it is OK because when it comes down to it, I’m still crying tears of joy. I sat on the people-packed subway yesterday with my heart aching, my mind shutting down, and my shoulders slouched. But as I looked around my subway car at the people who surrounded me, my eyes got blurry and a single tear slipped out and danced down my cheek. I reached up to wipe it away when I realized that it was not a sad tear, it was a joyful tear. You see, underneath my desire to only remain under the blankets of my bed for forever is a knowledge that my Father is still good, He is up to something in my life, and He for some reason wants me where I am right now. A woman with a beaming smile or a bubbly, laughing child is usually what I picture when I think of joy. Not a girl in a black jacket crying on a busy subway. But there I was. Amidst what I was feeling, among my exhaustion, I was able to take a deep breath, smile, and know that He is good, so good. And that is joy too. Deep down I still know He is who He says He is. The highs and lows, the ups and downs, the wins and the losses of life aside, when I think about Him and His love for us, I am still overwhelmed with joy. And for me right now joy is not jumping up and down, being in a great happy mood. It is taking a moment to remember to smile, letting a tear escape, and reminding myself of Who is giving me life in that very moment. And because of that, even though I might feel like I want to give up, He is still succeeding in my life.
Today this joy is my strength because today He is still good. Just like He was yesterday, and just like He’ll be tomorrow.
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