‘You must be so bitter,’ his interviewer questioned. ‘They
have robbed you of thirty years of your life.’
It was his answer that arrested me. ‘No,’ he affirmed. ‘I
won’t allow anything to rob me of my joy.’
In those thirty years when it must have cost the state
thousands of pounds to guard him from escape, he was busy guarding his own heart
against bitterness and anger, and now he had spoken into my heart.
I listened later to hear his testimony again, and also
looked it up on the internet, but I did not find these words repeated. It seems
the media wants to keep God out, but I had heard his words and I am determined
to share them where and when ever I can.
I was challenged. Am I always full of joy, or do I allow
the enemy to come and rob me of my inheritance? I have learned, the hard way,
to guard my purse, so may I, through Winston’s amazing testimony learn to let
nothing rob me of my joy.
Jesus not only left us peace as our inheritance, but he
said, Ask and you will receive that your joy may be full.
For many years I knew God wanted me to go as a
missionary. I thought it would be very hard, but God gave me a wonderful
promise; a promise of joy and peace. Single and going alone, I realised that
many women had a husband, children, a fine house in a civilised land, but
without joy and peace they had nothing.
So I eventually went to work in the remote highlands of Papua
New Guinea. Many times I would remind God of his promise of joy, and he is
faithful. He always answered.
Now, back in UK, and struggling with widowhood and old age,
I still do a lot of asking and God does a lot of answering, anointing with the
oil of gladness.
We were young, not long out of college when one of our
friends was struggling with a broken relationship. I was ready to encourage her
in her self-pity, but Esther spoke out strongly, that nothing can rob us of our
joy except sin. She quoted the parable
of the prodigal son. When he had confessed his sin and returned in repentance
to the Father, ‘they began to be merry.’
I still have to remember this lesson. If we are indulging
in self-pity, then it is self who is on the throne and not Jesus. But thank
God, he is only a prayer away and we are immediately forgiven, restored, and
able to rejoice without ceasing.
So what is it that can steal our joy? We can only imagine
the devastation of the disciples when they had seen the Saviour killed and
buried but, thank God, we can experience the joy of Easter morning when Jesus
appeared and gave them the glad assurance that he had conquered death and hell,
and that through the Holy Spirit they would always know that he was with them.
So is there anything that can steal our joy? Can
tribulation, hardship, famine, or other unspeakable suffering? Paul assured us
that in all these things we are more than conquerors, and God is able to take
the worst the enemy can do against us and turn it into a testimony, even as he
is doing for Anthony Ray Winston. And so we, like Paul and Silas in jail at
Philippi, can always sing joyful songs of praise to God.
Yet, even so, there may be days when we seem to be
smothered in a blanket of depression; and when we even may have to accept the
help of medication.
In my teens I suffered from depression. I thought this
was caused by guilt and so looked round for the cause, but once I came to know
Jesus as my Saviour, he helped me to put right whatever was wrong, and so,
knowing I was right with him, I had to wait for him to heal me from what was
physical depression.
Soon after my husband died I had been to a house group
and then struggled against wind and weather to return to my car. ‘Oh Lord,’ I
complained, ‘I don’t like being a widow.’ The next moment it was as if Jesus
was beside me and we were laughing together. I realised how awful it would be
if we did like being widows. Now I
tell people, God does not take away the pain, but he does give joy and peace. Hallelujah.
God’s gift to us all is contentment. It was in my single
days in New Guinea that he taught me to claim his word and to say, ‘I am delighting myself in the Lord and he is giving me the desires of my heart.’ I am still affirming this truth.
I wonder what Ray Winston’s testimony is, of how he
survived that terrible ordeal, - of 30 years, made up of long, long days of
living on death row, but this little poem written some years ago, tells how God
has so often come to me in answer to my cry for his joy.
JOY
Joy is a fountain, springing, though the land is
parched and dry,
Joy is a lighted window for the child who’s far from
home,
A hand upon your shoulder when you think you’re left
alone.
Joy is a skylark thrilling, rainbow’s circle in a
storm,
The promise of God’s presence and his strength for
each new morn.
Joy is the tug of anchor when storms sweep you from
the shore,
A voice from deep within that speaks of life for
evermore.
Joy is the sight of heaven given the Saviour on the
cross
The certainty that Jesus will bring blessing out of
loss.
Joy!
Joy is!
Joy is Jesus!
