I’ve prayed a lot about what to say in this particular post, at this particular time in my life. I didn’t want to say whatever I felt in the moment, just because a “milestone” birthday seemed like some kind of right-of-passage to go on about nothing for fun. I knew there was something greater happening that I needed to put into words, if for no other reason than to drive it home in my own heart. And every time I’ve prayed about it, I’ve received the same answer:

rejoice.

. . .

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a plan, a vision of what I always thought life would look like by the time I reached 25. As I was finally coming to terms with the fact that the plan was not going to meet this long-held and fast-approaching “deadline,” I told God that I’m sad, disappointed, and angry, and I’m angry that I’m disappointed and sad, and it was just this whole emotional inception thing and can I not do this? Thanks. I felt like such a brat, honestly. I prayed for God to please remove from my heart the things that I wanted to have “accomplished” or experienced by now, so that I don’t have to feel the ache of “the unmet.” I constantly vacillate between that and the guilt I feel about it because of how much it distracts me from being grateful for reality.

But God said no, that He didn’t need to take away the desires that are from Him to begin with; I just need to pray about them differently.

I guess I was being dramatic with my “all or nothing” mentality. Asking for the abolition of something just because I can’t deal with the fact that it didn’t happen when I was banking on it, or because being patient is too hard, discredits the fact that God still cares. I don’t have to completely abandon the dreams I have, I have to abandon my timeline for them. And on this timeline is where they lived for so long, until all of a sudden the expected “debut moment” came and went. Way too fast, “25” came knocking and these dreams went from being a hope for the future to a non-reality of the past. What do you do with that? When another year comes bearing countless gifts, but simultaneously feels like a thief in the night? When you’re really sad but still super excited and happy, and so thankful and disappointed and alone, all at the same time? You grieve what feels like a loss, try to change your mindset to focus on how much of a gift this life still is, and then cry your way to Target to return a rug and meander the aisles of office supplies and nail polish. Apparently.

I turned on worship music in the car and I don’t even remember what song came on, but that made it worse in the best way because Jesus used it to wake up my soul a little bit. I didn’t cry harder because I was progressively getting more sad, I cried harder because there was a moment when something clicked and I began to understand what God has been teaching me for a long time:

He is not depriving me of anything; He is adding joy.

If life had gone the way I always expected it to, I wouldn’t be learning what it means to rejoice in Him, or how hard that is when I don’t understand it because my flesh is so accustomed to grasping for what is tangible. I felt so thankful for the reminder that God is completely and consistently committed to my joy over my happiness or comfort; that my satisfaction in Him is what He wants from my life because that is what brings Him the most glory at the end of the day; that just because my plans go awry doesn’t mean that His do; that He is faithful to teach me how to rejoice by weeding out my tendency to settle for less than the joy He wants to cultivate; and that He is patient when I yell at Him about the way some of these hard lessons seem to take freaking forever.

I’m learning how to turn unmet expectations into opportunities to reevaluate where my heart wants to bow by default; that worship is a lifestyle, that it’s so not about me, and that rejoicing is choosing to take hold of joy – a priceless gift that comes only from Jesus, rises far above circumstances, and lasts forever.

. . .

I’ve locked eyes with the following passages over the past couple of weeks, each one tugging at my heart a little harder every time I read that one repeated word.

“Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.”

1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, NKJV

“And you shall rejoice before the Lord your God… in all to which you put your hands.”

Deuteronomy 12:12, 18b, NKJV

“But let all those rejoice who put their trust in you; let them ever shout for joy, because You defend them; let those also who love Your name be joyful in You.” 

Psalm 5:11, NKJV

“I will be glad and rejoice in Your mercy, for You have considered my trouble; You have known my soul in adversities”

Psalm 31:7, NKJV

“Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!”

Philippians 4:4, NKJV

“Though now you do not see Him, yet believing, you rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory”

1 Peter 1:8b, NKJV

. . .

rejoice – a commandment given to the Israelites when God brought them into the Promised Land and told them exactly how He wanted them to live, for their own benefit and for His glory.

rejoice – still a command, a call, a choice and a privilege that I have to abandon self-imposed timelines that hold the empty promise of fulfillment derived from success, approval, other people, favorable circumstances, self-sufficiency, or you-name-it.

rejoice – to give all of that to the God who gave all of Himself for me.

rejoice – to know that He is the Source of everything I take pleasure in in this life, and He wants to be my Pleasure.

rejoice – to let Him.

rejoice – this is 25.

“He is your praise, and He is your God, who has done for you these great and awesome things which your eyes have seen.”

Deuteronomy 10:21, NKJV