Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: JOY (12/07/17)
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TITLE: A bubble in your brain | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
12/11/17 -
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Sunset had stretched its majesty. A symphony of dazzlement vibrated our senses. It was like a giant had mashed a box of crayolas across the sky, lighting it with an incandescent fire and daring us to dance under it until we dropped.
Jimmy scrunched himself into a tight-knit ball with his arms around his knees. He rocked from toe to heel for a moment and then leaped for the heavens with a shout. “Joy to the world,” he yelled, falling and rolling down a small hill until he sat up grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“What does that feel like?” I asked.
He sprung to his feet and giant-stepped his way to my side. Taking my hand he said, “It’s not exactly like when your stomach volcanoes up to your throat when you’re stepping out of an airplane the first time you skydive, and it’s not exactly like riding a barrel over the falls where you think you might be crazier than you thought, and it’s not exactly like riding your motorbike in the middle of a herd of wild mustangs who might just trample you to death, but it’s close.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever felt that way,” I told him.
He touched my nose and then twirled away in circles like a figure skater at center ice. “Maybe you think too much,” he howled as he slowed to a stop. “It’s something which surges up into your brain from your whole body.”
I stepped cautiously toward him as he held out his arms. “Is it like awe, or happiness, or wonder, or delight?”
“It’s a kaleidoscope of all of those and more,” he answered. “It’s as fragile and fleeting as a child’s soap bubble caught away on the wind. It’s a dandelion puff scattered by a breath. It’s a wink from the love of your life as she disappears through a doorway.”
I took his hands in mine. “Does everyone feel it the same way?”
Jimmy smiled. “I doubt whether fairies and angels and phantoms might shiver in its grip. I doubt even leaping dolphins or monkeys or flying squirrels would sense it like we mortals. For some, it is birthed out of a deep silence that grabs the deepest part of your soul and wrenches it out of your chest. For some, it is poured through their eyes and senses until they are so overflowing they burst. For some, it is the invitation and abandonment to join the dance of another’s accomplishment and celebration.”
My scientific mind analyzed the deepening reds over the mountain peaks and concluded that the blue and violet hues had been scattered sufficiently to leave us with what I could see. “Can I create it just by choosing to will it into existence?”
He wrinkled his brow, tilted his head and smirked. “What fun is that?” he asked. “Joy is a trickle of wonder that turns into a stream rushing through your neurons and arteries. It captures your fingers as Beethoven explodes out of the air. It captures your limbs in the twists and turns of an Olympic gymnast. It seizes the oxygen from your lungs as the winning points are scored at the last possible moment. It takes the unimaginable and makes it real.”
I pursed my lips and stared him in the eyes - those twinkling, dancing, mischievous eyes. “How do I get it? Any of it?”
He put his pointer fingers on my chin and ran them slowly up to my temples. “Let go of trying to find what you see in others. Be aware of only this moment God has given you. Be all here. Breathe out and breathe in. Cherish who the Creator made you to be. Play. Dance. Reach out. Wonder and wander in the world. Give away what you have to another. Celebrate. Experience. Know.”
“Know?”
“Yes, know that there’s a Creator who made you with a sense of joy. Know that your Redeemer recreated you for a deeper sense of joy. Know that his Spirit writhes in you with life that never ends.”
We turned as the last ribbon of color evaporated from the horizon. The town had gathered and we joined the circle holding hands as the 40 foot tall Christmas tree burst into glorious light. A nativity set nestled under those limbs.
“Joy the World,” we sang. And I felt something bubble - deep inside.
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