They came to John and said to him, “Rabbi, that man who was with you on the other side of the Jordan—the one you testified about—look, he is baptizing, and everyone is going to him.” To this John replied, “A person can receive only what is given them from heaven. You yourselves can testify that I said, ‘I am not the Messiah but am sent ahead of him.’ The bride belongs to the bridegroom. The friend who attends the bridegroom waits and listens for him, and is full of joy when he hears the bridegroom’s voice. That joy is mine, and it is now complete. He must become greater; I must become less.” John 3:26-30
Dear Lord Jesus, I want nothing to do with a wardrobe of camel’s hair clothing, and a diet of locusts and wild honey (Matt. 3:4), but I do want more of John the Baptist’s joy—the joy of your increase and my decrease. Even in his mother’s womb, John leapt for joy before you (Luke 1:39-41). O, to be this impacted and liberated by your promised and abiding presence.
Jesus, I want your Spirit to increase my joy so I won’t expect, or “need,” people to make anything of me. Indeed, slay the “approval suck” beast in my life—giving people too much power over my heart, either to “pump me up” or tear me down.
Such joy would free me to grieve when people don’t love and honor you—more so more than when they don’t “get” and appreciate me. Such joy would free me to accept the fact that you both “give” and “take away” (Job 1:21). Indeed, both come as sovereign appointments from your throne of grace.
Such joy would free me for a life of contentment—because it would be anchored in you, not determined by circumstances. Such joy would free me to love others as you love them, not as I want them to be. Such joy would free me to be present in the moment, and less obsessing about the next thing. Such joy would free me to live each day for your coming kingdom, and less for my crumbling fiefdom. Joy to the world, joy to my heart, you have come and you’re coming again. So very Amen I pray, Lord Jesus, in your mercy-full and grace-full name.
