In the last 2 days, I’ve hit the first rock bottom of 2019.
And I asked myself, from whence doth my joy arise?
I realised, I’ve tried a ton of stuff in my life to make me happy, perhaps except doing drugs, binging on alcohol (because I am biologically incapable of attaining ethanolic euphoria without passing out ) and self-flagellation.
I have, however, not experienced as much joy as I do from helping the auntie at AMK station collect cardboard, seeing her smile and receiving her warm hug. I have not been embraced by such profound inexplicable exuberance as my time and service in the Friends of Jesus ministry (FoJ).
I’ve always wanted to write a post about my service in FoJ, but I could never find the words. It is a ministry like no other, without tangible accolades, glory or praise. It is, on its surface, a thankless gamble, but deep down, it truly reflects what it means to sow seeds, grow them and reap the harvest.
I missed out on FoJ this week ‘cause some nonsense happened in camp. And I felt incomplete and less joyful.
He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.