Joy

Earlier this week during my morning meditation, Jeff Warren, who guides the “Daily Trip” series on the Calm app, quoted William Blake’s poem, “Eternity.”

He who binds himself a joy

Does the winged life destroy;

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sunrise.

It hit home for me immediately, providing words for a recent experience. As many of you know, Stephanie and I recently returned from a couple of weeks of vacation. The primary focus of our time away was a family gathering to celebrate my 60th birthday. We were joined by our oldest, Taylor, and his fiancé, Nicole; our youngest, Eli; and (for 36 hours) our dear friend, Chip and his boyfriend, Peter.

With Eli living in Brooklyn and Taylor and Nicole in San Diego, the opportunities for us to be together are rare and precious. It was tempting, therefore, to try too hard to make each moment meaningful and special. I don’t know about your family but with mine, if we try that hard — if we bind ourselves, to use Blake’s word, to an expected outcome — the joy can easily be destroyed by our intensity.

One of the highlights of our time together — for me, though not necessarily for anyone else — was an afternoon on the beach in which we didn’t do much of anything. Eli and I swam in the Pacific. Stephanie and I took a short walk on the beach. And the five of us sat quietly and read our books. Sitting in beach chairs, sand on our feet, the ocean in front of us. Simply being together.

I left the beach somewhat reluctantly that afternoon. I don’t know when, or even if, that experience will be repeated. Every moment is, after all, unique. If only I could stop time and freeze the moment. But, of course, time keeps moving. Our children are no longer children. They are adults living their own lives. For their lives to be fulfilled and joyful they can’t be stuck sitting on a beach with their parents.

Perhaps someday we’ll be geographically closer. If grandchildren are in our future, I’m thinking it will be harder to be so far away. For now, however, I must choose not to bind myself to the joy of that moment on the beach by trying to hold onto it or recreate it. I need to kiss it as it flies. And though I lack a picture to capture that moment, I have a memory of being in a place I love with the people I love most in the world. And that is joy.

Only hours before the arrest that would lead to his crucifixion, Jesus told the disciples that he came into this world so their “joy may be complete.” (John 15:11) Given what was about to happen, I’m confident he did not mean that joy is complete when we bind ourselves to a perfect outcome. Instead, I think he was inviting the disciples to find joy in a single moment. This moment, he’s telling them, right now. When we’re together. This is joy. See it. Appreciate it. Be grateful for it. And then kiss it as it flies.

Here, I trust, is one of the ironies of the gospel. By embracing joy in a single moment and then letting it go, we catch a glimpse of the eternity God promises us and all of creation.