In his book The Return
of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen makes this observation about Jesus’
parables in Luke 10, featuring the shepherd looking for his lost sheep, the
woman looking for her lost coin, and the father eagerly awaiting the return of
his lost son—each of whom represents God: “God rejoices. Not because the
problems of the world have been solved, not because all human pain and
suffering have come to an end, nor because thousands of people have been
converted and are now praising him for his goodness. No, God rejoices because one of his children who was lost has
been found. What I am called to is to enter into that joy.”
We miss that joy, says Nouwen, because it is small, hidden,
and inconspicuous. The pressure is constant, and only stronger since Nouwen
wrote this in the 1990s, to only find joy in the grand, impressive, and showy.
Even in matters of faith, it is easy to see God and find joy only in big,
miraculous gestures of healing, conversion, worship, etc. But the understanding
of joy I’ve come to at least—that joy is delight and deep contentment in the world and
in ourselves because God is present in both—would say otherwise.
It is God’s presence that brings joy, not the presence of any dazzling spectacle. Sure, the spectacular
might point to God’s presence. But so can the unspectacular, the quiet, the simple—sometimes
even more so, for those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. And that’s what
it comes to: attentiveness.
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