celebration takes place.
clearer—especially the goodness of God, and the
awareness that He loves to delight me through small
gifts like these. My heart came to rest.
How beautiful! I cannot express the relief that washed
over me when I first understood this concept. It took
all of the burden out of pursuing a heart of joy. Instead
of feeling that I must just muscle through difficulties
with a smile or a party, I understand that joy grows
from an awareness of God’s goodness. As I glimpse
His majesty, my heart swells with awe, and I yearn
to proclaim His goodness; to give back my worship
in response to what He has done. Recognition is the
seed, and celebration is the fruit.
Do the “memorials of celebration” have to be
obvious? No. You may not have the emotional energy
or physical resources to throw a big party in honor of
a special event. This is ok. The point of celebration is
remebrance of what God has done, and to worship
Him in response. Our celebrations don’t have to be
accompanied by fireworks in order to be legitimate.
In fact, our most intimate celebrations may take
place in secret, standing solo at the top of a field,
arms outstretched toward the chest-tightening glory
of a summer sunset. They may occur in the quiet, wee
hours of the morning, tenderly rocking a restless babe.
Even in the quiet moments, where there is no fanfare
or audience or party hats, our hearts become keenly
aware of the goodness of God. We celebrate with
joy, and the notion presses in, a memorial of His love
etched upon our world-worn souls. True celebration is
not contingent on having just the right atmosphere,
people, or ornamentation, but in glimpsing God’s
power and being moved to worship.
The discipline of celebration is the discipline of
recognition. We must practice, regularly, an awareness
of God’s presence in our lives. It is what brings joy,
even in the times of darkness or discouragement.
Regardless of the circumstance, our trained eyes can
look past and into the multitude of small things God
sends as tokens of His love: the smell of a child’s freshly
washed hair; ripening red tomatoes in the garden; a
lingering look of understanding shared with a lover;
memories of God’s past provision.
Memorials are an important part of celebration.
God stressed them over and over to the Israelites,
instructing them to collect remnants of manna, build
altars, stack boulders, and name wells following major
events of Israel’s journey (Exodus 16:32,33; Esther 9;
Exodus 12:14; Joshua 4:1-3). What was the purpose?
To create tangible reminders of His goodness!
Authentic celebration is not random, but consistent
in response to an awareness of God’s goodness.
Looking beyond present difficulties is not easy. It was
never promised to be. What is promised, however, is “I
will never leave you, or forsake you.” Our joy comes,
not from pleasing circumstances, but the conviction
that God is good and we are loved.
Erecting memorials for ongoing celebration of God’s
mighty acts is an important part of our lives as well.
Imagine a lifetime without commemoration of the
good things—how empty and gloomy; like an empty
strand of string. Every time we tangibly recognize
God’s goodness, we thread a bead of remembrance
on the strand of time. Memorials give us something
to return to, over and over; to finger and handle and
taste all over again that the Lord is good.
Life’s significant events -- the positive and the
traumatic ones -- are really monuments of grace.
It takes discipline to look first, for God in them.
How might life change if we lived celebrating the
moments; every one a gift from God? Every one an
opportunity to see Him and to remember how good
He is? What if we commemorated life, moment by
moment, with celebration and praise? How might we
see God differently?
There are many ways to erect monuments. Some are
obvious – like birthday parties or marriage ceremonies.
Last weekend I had the privilege of participating in
a motorcycle memorial ride in memory of two godly
men who passed away suddenly several years ago.
We visited the accident sites and mourned their
deaths, but rejoiced in their lives. Memorials are
precious.
One of my favorite ways to celebrate and memorize
God’s goodness is through photography. Last week I
took a long walk to clear my head at the end of “one
of those days.” As I walked, I thought about “rejoicing
always” and didn’t feel at all like it. But I decided to
practice what I preach and to practice the discipline
of celebration. I lifted up my camera and started to
focus on things of beauty. There were many: blush
pink roses climbing wild all over the trees along the
trail. Fragrant, yellow honeysuckle. The auburn metal
of an electricity tower leaning against a grey sky.
Capturing beauty withi