The Impressive Factor

Strolling through the check-out lane, the glossy cover of Seventeen doesn’t arrest my interest. The magazine I would be tempted to open isn’t in the racks, because it doesn’t exist. GodlyGirl, it’s called.

There are beauty tips galore within those fascinating pages. "Top 10 Breathtaking, Must-Have Character Traits." "How To Get A Gentle, Quiet Spirit In Three Easy Steps." "Insider Secrets To Eye-Catching Righteousness." "Helpful Hints: Learning The Art Of Cheerful Servitude." "43 Ways You Can Start Becoming The Perfect Help-Mate Today, Before You Meet Mr. Right!"

It’s a fact: Godliness is highly attractive, deeply respected, and greatly admired. We honor those that possess it. Proverbs 31:10 says that a virtuous woman is worth far more than rubies—who wouldn’t desire to be lauded that way? I’d rather have my character praised than receive a flattering remark on my appearance, any day.

And yet, with so much stress placed upon inner beauty, something is easily overlooked. Godliness can be just one more route to gain attention and approval.

How so? Take this real-life situation, for example. It's a common occurrence at our house.

I’m sitting at my desk, doing my homework studiously. Suddenly, the door flings open, and my little sisters run into the room. They want to talk with me, play with me, or ask me questions. Awesome. There's just one difficulty-- I’m engrossed in my work. Their presence is a minor blip on my radar screen of annoyances, but a blip nonetheless. A response is required.

If any of you were watching me, I would smile sweetly, pat their darling little heads, kiss their adorable little cheeks effusively, kindly sacrifice my time for their dear little sakes, thank the precious blessings for interrupting me, and then return to my studies—after singing a hymn, praying over them, and gently dropping them a nugget or three of priceless biblical wisdom. Okay, not really, but you get the general idea.

Alone, however, there is no one to impress. No one to dazzle. I can easily mumble something about “not now”, cast a significant look in their direction (by “significant”, I mean “daggered”), and then proceed to ignore the impudent creatures who dared to disturb Her Highness. None of you would ever know; my reputation wouldn’t suffer any stains.

These everyday, private choices will only known by me, my Maker, and my immediate family members. And yet, it is these everyday, private choices that reveal my real character. Remove the pressure to impress, and you're left with the brazen truth.

We may not obsess over our physical appearances, but obsession over character is no better, when our motives are the same. If you’ve ever said or done something, knowing perfectly well in the back of your mind that it looked… well, that it looked really good, then perhaps you know what I’m talking about.

We may as well screech, Look at me! I’m so beautiful inside! When you get right down to it, that's the issue. Three words: "Look at me." Not "Look at Christ", but "Look at me." Our hearts can easily be filled with proud, attention-seeking thoughts while our mouths are busily forming words that avow the greatness and glory of God.

In Matthew 6, Christ warns the Pharisees against this very kind of false godliness:

“Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

If there is a discrepancy between our eagerness for godliness in public, and our eagerness for godliness in private, a heart check is in order. GodlyGirl can stay on the shelf where it belongs.

Lions, Tigers, and Feelings, Oh My!

"A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment." -Pride and Prejudice

Wrapped deeply in thought, a girl cups her chin in her hands. A face—his face— fills her mind. For the hundredth time, she mulls over his highly attractive attributes:

1. Clearly cherishes the Gospel above all else? Check.
2. Deeply passionate, growing relationship with Christ? Check, check.
3. Strong, humble leader?
4. A vibrantly active, not passive, Christian?
5. Visible love for family and for the Church?
6. Serious student of the Word?
7. Kind, caring, chivalr—

Check ‘em all. Before she’s reached the end of the list, she’s lost herself in a daydream.

A wisp of a smile steals over her face. It's a perfect match. He's the man of her dreams. Closing her eyes, she can already envision it—the flowing white gown, and the tender look in his eyes as she cries "I do" enthusiastically, flinging her arms around his neck. She can't help but notice his many admirable characteristics— characteristics which, incidentally, she desires in a spouse one day. The wheels have started turning.

There's just one little catch: "the man of her dreams" is only a friend— as he ought to be, at her age. And yet, completely unbeknownst to the unfortunate possessor of so many essential husband-material qualities, she has stuck the label "Potential Future Spouse" on him, clear as if it had been printed in bold italics on his forehead.

From girlhood, we start building The List. You know the one I'm talking about. We girls are keen observers, and as we reach young womanhood, copious mental notes are taken. Nothing escapes us; qualities we like and qualities we don't are both stored up in our memory.

Let's call the girl in the above paragraphs "Annie". When Annie converses with a rude, obnoxious boy, the thought might skitter quickly through her mind: I could never marry him, or anyone like him. Young Man #1 is simply crossed off swiftly. No possibilities there. It is only when Annie meets Young Man #2—an extremely promising Christian, who meets many of her requirements for a husband—that the problems begin. As Young Man #2 is quietly shuffled into the category of Potential, something dangerous starts to happen in her heart.

Oh, Come On. What's the Harm of a Label?

Allowing the labeling-mindset to creep in is natural, yet perilously unhealthy. Why? Because the classification of a "future potential husband" can rarely be separated from present

romantic—and out of place—feelings for that person. Joshua Harris wisely exhorts:

"What are the categories you have for Christian men in your life—"potential boyfriend", "potential husband", "no potential whatsoever"? I encourage you to drop these categories. The first way you should view a Christian guy is as a brother. Be a sister to the men in your life. Pray for them. Be yourself. Don't put up a front. Be a friend."

Alright, in summation: Feelings are wrong. Don't have them. Platonic friendships really rock. Determine to keep it that way forever. Guard your heart, girls, and don't ever let yourself think of a friend as a possibility. Right? Buzz! Wrong.

Without fail, whenever the topic of emotional purity is breached, I notice a distinct negativity in tone towards those things we call "feelings.” Ahh! Kill the feelings, pound the feelings down—smash, smash, smash—get rid of the feelings, flee the feelings! Exterminate! Exterminate! Amusingly enough, there is a kind of religious terror and obsession with the word. Lions, tigers, and feelings, oh my! You would almost think, hearing the way many people talk, that the presence of romantic feelings is inherently wrong, anti-spiritual, and detrimental to our growth as Christians.

Frankly, that's absolutely absurd.

I'll be honest: I'm just about as hopelessly romantic as a girl can get. Chances are that you have a romantic streak, too. That's a good thing. (Yes, you read that right. A good thing.) It's allowing our feelings to be aroused prematurely through categories that we need to be wary about, not allowing our feelings to be kindled at an appropriate time by an appropriate man's initiative.

C.S. Lewis praised feelings: " 'Being in love' first moved them [a man and woman] to promise fidelity." There is a place for feelings; their importance should never be scorned or made little of. My point is not that feelings are sinful, or have no value. In fact, to be blunt, we're not going to get married without them. The trouble only begins when we let ourselves experience the flutters of romance while we're too young for marriage—or, if we're eligible, when the object of our affections has not made a direct, clear initiation. Until then, our responsibility is to block out intrusive, categorizing thoughts. Every Christian young man that you encounter, regardless of how closely he aligns with your expectations for a future husband, is a brother. Period.

Of course, we can tie a pretty little bow on that as a theory, but the nitty-gritty of keeping guy friends firmly and only as brothers in our minds takes considerable effort. Hope exists. Contrary to popular belief, romantic feelings are not unstoppable avalanches, invariably rendering the helpless victims incapable of any option but surrender. We have control over the thoughts we allow into our minds, and we have control over the labels we choose to place on certain guy friends. It isn't only possible to drop the mindset of categories—it is absolutely imperative to keeping our eyes fixed on Christ.

Flipping through my CD collection, I notice that my most beloved albums are the ones that draw me to the Cross. I’ve found that it helps me stay focused when the soundtrack of my day is centered on the Word. But the temptation here is to lean too much on the experience the music can bring, and replace real joy in the Gospel with a foot-tappin’ enjoyment of the song. This isn’t true appreciation of the Cross.

It’s not that I believe emotions are wrong. The Bible is filled with God’s commands for us to be emotional: “Rejoice,” “take heart,” and “hope.” Nevertheless, soaring ecstasy is not necessarily a sign of devoutness. In fact, I’m learning that the more comfortable I feel, the less I’m probably focused on Christ. Real adoration starts with me feeling uncomfortable.

Try to envision the scene with me:

They were large, strong hands. In infanthood they had been complete with tiny, exquisite fingernails; now they were grown, calloused and wrinkled by work. A carpenter’s hands.

Another hand, a fist, came down harshly upon the carpenter’s face. Another set of hands grabbed the carpenter’s wrists, jerking them behind his back, binding them with ropes that scratched and tore at his skin. Then all was a mixture of blood and sweat as the beating began.

After only minutes under the torture of the Roman guards, the carpenter began to lose all sign of humanity. Was this really a man who once stood to teach thousands of people for hours on end? Those arms that now hung limp, had they really once carried little children? Could that nose possibly have been part of a face at one time?

Staggering forward, his hands grasped a plank of wood. He did not need a cue. The carpenter knew exactly what he was to do; but the soldier prodded him with a whip anyway. Onward he stumbled, blinded by the blood running down his face.

The carpenter was forced onto the ground. He did not fight back. His wrists were grabbed by a Roman guard and pressed firmly against the plank. (I wonder if the soldier paid attention, could he have noticed something in this prisoner was different? Did he not realize those hands were familiar? That before the soldier was a soldier, even before he was a man, those same strong hands had formed his own? That the wrist he now held with an iron grip was the wrist of his Creator? How could he not recognize God’s Son?) The guard positioned a spike. Mallet in hand, he swung hard.

Every ounce of the carpenter’s being pulled upon those spikes. His cells were a frenzy of suffering and pain. As Joni Eareckson Tada tried to describe the scene, “God was on display in His underwear, and He could scarcely breathe.”

Sometimes when we draw near enough to the Cross, our words are depleted. Our wells of vocabulary run dry as we approach the end of human comprehension.

It’s not comfortable. It’s not always pleasant. For me, the revisiting usually ends with conviction, sorrow, and immense guilt. Those were my beatings, my nails, my bruises that He felt instead. I’m enabled by this reminder to truly worship—to realize God’s justice and grace and mercy and really, honestly adore Him. From there, I can start rejoicing in His love, which is He wanted for me in the first place.

Happy Good Friday, everyone.

Jumping at Perfection

When I was six, I had a dog named Happy. Every day, Happy would run to the orange tree in our backyard, jump up excitedly, and try to grab hold of a branch with her jaws.

One year, our beloved pet needed surgery. The veterenarian’s instructions were crystal-clear: No activity.

Ah, but not Happy. The split second we opened the sliding glass door at home, Happy dashed out in a blur. As we watched in stunned silence, she made a beeline for the orange tree and leapt into the air. Arrp! she yelped. Down she thudded. Then we blinked—up flew the irrepressible Happy. Arrp! Down. Up. Arrp! Down. And so it went, day after day. The dog was insane. What on earth compels her to keep jumping for that branch? we wondered, laughing. Didn’t she get it? I think the vet overlooked Happy's true problem: she needed a brain transplant.

Then again, maybe something can be learned from a quirky old dog.

I have a standard set for myself, to guide all my conduct—all my words, all my thoughts, all my actions. It’s revealed in God’s Word, and it’s high. There's just one problem. Whenever I open my Bible to read a little more about the holy God I serve, that standard inches higher. And another thing is happening simultaneously. In the light of His holiness, filth that I never even knew was in my heart is placed on display before my startled, shamed eyes.

I long to glorify God. I long to know Him, more intimately than I ever have before. I long to revel in His love continually. I long for my heart to be tender, so that I will fall in submission at His feet in every circumstance. I long for my Maker to reveal Himself to me—for Him to stagger me with Himself. I long for my daily life to be a sweet, pleasing aroma to Him. I long to be wholly, completely devoted to my Savior.

But to be perfectly frank, I often feel exactly like my old dog.

I’m jumping at a branch that’s always becoming more unattainable. Thud. Every day, I yelp and fall down. Again, again, and again I hit the ground. I’ve never even brushed the leaves. I often wonder: Am I making any progress? Am I maturing at all? It’s hard for me to tell. I recently found an old journal of mine, with simple, short entries written in childish scrawls.

God, I’ve already sinned today. I’m sorry. I’m really the worst of all sinners, it seems. Thank You that You always forgive me—even if I am the worst sinner ever.

I want You. I want to thirst for You, and hunger for Your Word.

Those entries were penned at age ten, but I’m still praying the very same things today. I have a feeling that I'll be praying them at sixty. Truth be told: I’m never going to meet God’s standard perfectly while I’m inhaling and exhaling on this earth.

What I want to do, I do not do, and what I do not want to do, I do. I can almost hear the frustration echoing in Paul's voice, can’t you? The agony he expresses is acute; Paul’s struggle with the stubborn sinful nature is one that every believer is painfully familiar with. When you burn with yearning for perfection, every fresh discovery of pride and idolatry can be a nearly debilitating blow of discouragement.

So, what to do? There are but two options before the frustrated, disheartened, jumping Christian.

First, we can tug the branch down to our level. Drop His standard a bit, and we will immediately find—to our pleasant surprise— that discouragement stays safely at bay. We know that we can’t achieve perfection, so why keep on aiming for the impossible? It’s painful, it takes unrelenting hard work, and it’s exhausting. Spiritual complacency, on the other hand, is oh-so-comfortable. Rather than flinging every drop of our energy into the pursuit of God and the pursuit of holiness, we have the option of letting "small" sins slip by unheeded. The option of pretending that God's interest in our spiritual maturity isn't really so strong and unyielding. The option of acceptance. To find relief, we simply need to follow the instructions of the vet, curl up in a ball, and fall fast asleep.

Of course, lowering His standard for our lives does require making some changes. We’ll have to cultivate calluses; our consciences obviously cannot be allowed to prick and grieve us at the slightest sin. Naturally, in order to achieve that feat, we need to stop reading the Word diligently. (Or, if we do keep reading, we absolutely cannot let the words penetrate our hearts and bring conviction.) That part is key. If we’re not gazing at His criterion daily, it won’t be too difficult to imagine that the branch isn’t really quite so high. If we choose this option, truth is our most dangerous enemy, because it will invariably evoke more jumping.

But there is a second way, praise God, and I can sum it up in one word: Grace.

In verse 24 of Romans 7, Paul concludes, “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” Our Lord doesn’t desire us to live in weary discouragement at our failings. Every time we fall, we have access to another measure of grace and forgiveness from the Cross— enough to propel us up again. Spiritual growth is a lost cause when it's dependent upon us, but it isn't meant to be. We can only draw our strength and
sustenance from Jehova-M'Kaddesh. The Lord Who Sanctifies.

Yes, it is a constant cycle. Yes, we are going to keep up the yelping and crashing until the day we die. No, none of us will ever be able to declare that we’ve “attained it”, or that we’re “there”. And yet, our effort is not fruitless.

Constant exercise makes the legs stronger. While it may feel as though we aren't getting anywhere, the sensation isn't grounded in reality. Whenever we are intent upon seeking and obeying God, He responds by opening our eyes a little bit more, revealing that the branch is higher than we thought it was. Each time, the opening of our eyes requires more strenuous jumping than before, but grace will allow us to jump higher as the branch soars upward. We may not ever get any closer to it, but it's essential to remember that God doesn’t keep our perception of the branch stationary, either. He's always moving it higher. That means we're moving, too.

So it will go on; forever exploring more of the unfathomable riches of our Maker, forever being taught, forever being humbled, forever being awed. And then, on the glorious day when we breathe our last, the imperfect will finally be swallowed up by the Perfect.

Put in that light, I think I want to be like Happy while I'm here—brain transplant needed or not.

Dear Readers

As many of you know from a previous post, Lindsey broke her back nearly two months ago in a sledding accident. (It was a minor fracture, and she is, thankfully, recovering smoothly.) Lindsey attempted to convince me that it was a "romantic" and "dramatic" experience, but I didn't buy it.

I'm even more skeptical now, because my own dear mother has broken her back as well. (And yes, it was the same exact vertebra that Lindsey injured.) Her spinal cord was not touched either, but now she is facing the same road to recovery.

We are praising God that the injury was not more severe; but I would be grateful for your prayers for both Mom and Lindsey. Please pray that both their bodies would be granted complete and speedy healing.

Lindsey and I would also like to know how we can be praying for you. If you have a prayer request you would like to share, please do comment or shoot us an email (contact.bfth [at] gmail.com).


In Christ,
Hannah


P.S. Mom is declaring emphatically that breaking a vertebra is not romantic at all. It is an experience she does not recommend. Don't listen to Lindsey.

Growing Divas

“‘Look, we’re reading an adult magazine,’ Eleanor told her mother, gleefully waving a copy of People with a desultory-looking Britney Spears on its cover.

Eleanor was in the bubble-gum-colored pedicure lounge…with her 3 ½-year-old sister and a half-dozen or so friends. The girls were celebrating her birthday with mani’s, pedi’s and mini-makeovers with light makeup and body art — glitter-applied stars, lightning bolts and, of course, hearts.” (NYT, 2008)

A salon similar to the one Eleanor visited is located near my house, and I’ve often noticed it because of the limo parked outside. (It’s actually impossible to ignore—since the limo is pink.) I wasn’t sure girls actually threw birthday parties there, but according to the New York Times, I'm out of the loop. This local salon is only a fraction of a hot national trend: Beauty treatments for 6 to 9 year old girls.

Al Mohler commented on the issue:

“Some observers relate this all to the ‘KGOY’ trend – ‘Kids Getting Older Younger.’ But in this case it is not just a matter of getting older faster, but of being tragically misled about the purpose of life and the truth of beauty.”

Bingo. It’s not a problem of girls maturing too quickly—but that girls are learning to be obsessed with outward beauty.

This makes me wonder how I can personally be a better example to younger girls around me. I have little sisters who also have friends. Knowing that they are facing the same pressure to conform, how can I best serve them? How can I help them to develop a right view of beauty? What priorities am I communicating in my own behavior?

The Dark, Scary, Spider-Infested Forest of Your Future

My little sister Audrey slipped her hand into mine. "Let's play the game!" she said. With a wide grin, she squeezed her eyes shut. "Lead me!" Hand in hand, we wove through the crowded mall—I with my eyes wide open, she relying on my direction. Then it happened. In spite of my expert leading (I can assure you that the fault was not mine), Audrey brushed a stranger. Instantly, her eyes flew open. "Lindsey!" she scolded, withdrawing her hand quickly. "You are not leading anymore."

As I thought back over Audrey's reaction, I realized that I play the game similarly. Except, I play with God.

With an excited, eager smile, I'll slip my hand into His, and cry "Lead me!" in childlike delight. For a while, all is well. But as soon as the terrain begins to alter, I crack open an eye to take a peek.

Oh boy. I wish I hadn't. One of the paths ahead is riddled with pot-holes and leads straight into the heart of a forest. Dark trees crowd all around, obscuring my view-- and it's infested with ugly little spiders, no doubt! Naturally, I start to protest. (Just in case.)

By the way... ah, if You're starting to get any ideas, when I said that I wanted You to lead me, I didn't mean that You could ever lead me there, Lord. Just thought you should know.

I've seen Him take other people down rough roads before. They learn contentment and joy in suffering. Which is great, of course... for them. Panicking, my instinctive reaction is to yank my hand away when I start thinking in "what-ifs".

Look here, Lord, I've got this incredible blue-print for my life-- see?-- and it involves serving You this way, this way, and this way. I've thought about it extensively, and these are very good, God-glorifying plans. Listen, You can still lead me, and that's just fine, but only if I'm the one giving directions here. I really, really don't get along that well with spiders.

We all know the feelings of uncertainty and fear that invade our hearts as we wonder about what the future will hold. Questions roll in like the black plague: Where will God take me? What does He want from my life? Will the Almighty snatch away my dreams of happiness, to glorify Himself and teach me contentment? Ah! Noo!

The health, wealth, and prosperity-centered gospel confidently asserts that God will lovingly grant us everything we desire, but we know that He doesn't. The lady in my church, awaiting her diagnosis for a medical condition, knows that He doesn't. The young girl in Cambodia, sold into slavery at five, knows that He doesn't. The single woman, longing for marriage and a family, knows that He doesn't. The dear lady I talked with yesterday, whose husband left her last month for another, knows that He doesn't. We Christians don't lead lives any more charmed than the rest of the world.

Our futures will hold elements that you and I wouldn't exactly volunteer for. We're going to have troubles, and we're going to have heartache. That is a guarantee. We live in a fallen world; how could it be otherwise? But there are two things that we must always remember when we're staring fearfully at our potential forests-- and when we're walking straight through them.

Sovereign Isn't Enough

First, it is insufficient to simply know that God is sovereign. His complete, perfect sovereignty is the most comforting truth in existence, but only when it is coupled with intimate knowledge of another facet of His character: His goodness.

Our God is not a cruel, unjust tyrant, manipulating circumstances in our lives to inflict us with torment and make us miserable. He is good. We don't deserve it and can't explain it, but He is. Though our circumstances will vacillate, His goodness will never alter.

"Which of you," Jesus asked, "If his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him!"

So when we ask for a nice, roasted fish, and it looks as if He's handed us a hissing, fanged viper-- He hasn't. What He gives us certainly won't always be what we desire; there are times when His will involves great pain. But in the end, we will never be rendered unable to whisper, "Thank you." Because He is good. Always.

The Beauty Contest: My plans vs. His plans

Second, we could never map out a more beautiful future for ourselves than His. I could spend years trying to concoct the most idyllic, detailed set of plans for a fairy-tale life, but they couldn't even begin to rival the magnificent story the Author has in mind. In fact, while I'm sure I'd be quite enamored with my castles in the sky, putting me in control of my life would undoubtedly result in a sorry mess. Who am I to deem myself wiser than my Maker?

"For your thoughts are not my thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9

I cannot tell what the complete, finished portrait will look like yet. He does. He sees the trials I'll go through, and the pain. But He also sees everything that I, short-sighted creature that I am, struggle to grasp. Out of ashes, beauty. Every road I walk through, used as a brush-stroke to magnify His name a little more, and conform me more into His Son's own image. I don't need to see the picture unveiled to know that it will be absolutely perfect. He is the artist, after all.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord. "Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future."

With the promise of Jeremiah 29:3 ringing in my ears, even spider-infested forests don't really sound quite that bad. The woman of Proverbs 31 "laughs at the days to come". I like that. Why should we tremble at the unknown, when the God we trust is so good?

"Joy, a Duty", by Charles Spurgeon

Charles Haddon Spurgeon delivered this wonderful sermon in 1895. "What is there on earth that is worth fretting for even for five minutes?" he asks. The exultant answer: nothing. This refreshed my weary spirit today, and moved me once again to glad rejoicing in our glorious Savior.

There is a marvelous medicinal power in joy. Most medicines are distasteful; but this, which is the best of all medicines, is sweet to the taste, and comforting to the heart.

People who are very happy, especially those who are very happy in the Lord, are not apt either to give offence or to take offence. Their minds are so sweetly occupied with higher things, that they are not easily distracted by the little troubles which naturally arise among such imperfect creatures as we are. What is this joy but the concord of the soul, the accord of the heart, with the joy of heaven? Joy in the Lord, then, drives away the discords of earth.
Further, brethren, notice that the apostle, after he had said, "Rejoice in the Lord always," commanded the Philippians to be careful for nothing, thus implying that joy in the Lord is one of the best preparations for the trials of this life. The cure for care is joy in the Lord. No, my brother, you will not be able to keep on with your fretfulness; no, my sister, you will not be able to weary yourself any longer with your anxieties, if the Lord will but fill you with His joy.

Then, being satisfied with your God, yea, more than satisfied, overflowing with delight in Him, you will say to yourself, "Why art thou cast down, O my
soul? And why art thou disquieted in me? Hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance."

What is there on earth that is worth fretting for even for five minutes? Therefore, let us be thankful, let us be joyful in the Lord. I count it one of the wisest things that, by rejoicing in the Lord, we commence our heaven here below. It is possible so to do, it is profitable so to do, and we are commanded so to do.

[...] This is a demonstrative duty: "Rejoice in the Lord." There may be such a thing as a dumb joy, but I hardly think that it can keep dumb long. Joy! Joy! Why, it speaks for itself! It is like a candle lighted in a dark chamber; you need not sound a trumpet, and say, "Now light has come." The candle proclaims itself by its own brilliance; and when joy comes into a man, it shines out of his eyes, it sparkles in his countenance. True joy, when it is joy in the Lord, must speak; it cannot hold its tongue, it must praise the name of the Lord.

[...] I think that the apostle also means that God is to be the great object of your joy: "Rejoice in the Lord." Rejoice in the Father, your Father who is in heaven, your loving, tender, unchangeable God. Rejoice, too, in the Son, your Redeemer, your Brother, the Husband of your soul, your Prophet, Priest, and King. Rejoice also in the Holy Ghost, your Quickener, your Comforter, in him who shall abide with you for ever. Rejoice in the one God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob; in Him delight yourselves, as it is written, "Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart." We cannot have too much of this joy in the Lord, for the great Jehovah is our exceeding joy. Or if, by "the Lord" is meant the Lord Jesus, then let me invite, persuade, and command you to delight in the Lord Jesus, incarnate in your flesh, dead for your sins, risen for your justification, gone into the glory claiming victory for you, sitting at the right hand of God interceding for you, reigning over all worlds on your behalf, and soon to come to take you up into his glory that you may be with Him for ever. Rejoice in the Lord Jesus. This is a sea of delight; blessed are they that dive into its utmost depths.

You can read the rest of Spurgeon's sermon here.