NIEÀM VUI THOÛA THIEÂNG LIEÂNG / SACRED DELIGHT (SGTY 03-02)

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} Naøng coù moïi lyù do ñeå cay ñaéng. Duø taøi hoa, Naøng ñaõ bò laõng queân trong nhieàu naêm. Caùc giôùi nhaïc kòch noåi tieáng kheùp laïi nhöõng danh vò khi naøng thöû böôùc vaøo. Caùc nhaø pheâ bình Myõ quoác queân ñi tieáng haùt kích ñoäng cuûa naøng. Nhieàu laàn naøng bò töø choái nhöõng cô hoäi maø naøng deã daøng thaønh ñaït. Chæ sau khi trôû veà töø AÂu chaâu vaø chieám ñöôïc traùi tim thính giaû AÂu chaâu khoù tính, caùc nhaø laõnh tuï dö luaän trong nöôùc môùi chaáp nhaän taøi naêng cuûa naøng. Chaúng nhöõng ñôøi soáng ngheà nghieäp naøng laø moät cuoäc chieán, ñôøi soáng caù nhaân naøng cuõng bò ñaùnh daáu thaùch thöùc. Naøng laø meï cuûa hai ñöùa con taøn taät, moät ñöùa mang taät naëng trí tueä chaäm phaùt. Maáy naêm tröôùc, ñeå troán thoaùt toác ñoä cuûa Thaønh phoá New York, naøng mua moät ngoâi nhaø ôû Martha’s Vineyard. Ngoâi nhaø bò chaùy ruïi hai ngaøy tröôùc khi naøng ñònh doïn vaøo. Ngheà nghòeâp bò töø choái. Caù nhaân suy thoaùi. Naøng laø maûnh ñaát tuyeät haûo cho haït gioáng ñaéng cay. Moät thöûa ruoäng thuaän lôïi cho coäi reã uaát haän. Nhöng tröôøng hôïp naày, côn phaãn noäâ khoâng choã dung thaân. Baïn beø khoâng goïi naøng cay ñaéng; hoï goïi naøng “Bong boùng.” Coâ Beverly Sills. Moät ca só nhaïc kòch löøng danh quoác teá. Moät Giaùm ñoác hoài höu cuûa Ñaïi hí vieän Thaønh phoá New York. Lôøi noùi cuûa naøng ñöôïm ngoït tieáng cöôøi. Göông maët naøng dòu daøng thanh thaûn. Khi phoûng vaán naøng, Mike Wallace thoát leân: “Coâ laø moät ngöôøi gôïi caûm nhaát – neáu khoâng gôïi caûm nhaát thieân haï – trong soá nhöõng phuï nöõ maø toâi töøng phoûng vaán.” Moät ngöôøi bò töø choái nhieàu nghieäp vuï vaø caù nhaân toån thöông ñeán theá, sao coù theå vaãn ñöôïc nhôù ñeán vôùi teân “Bong boùng”? Naøng noùi: “Toâi choïn nieàm vui. Nhieàu naêm qua, toâi bieát ñaõ khoâng ñöôïc choïn hay coù ít thaønh coâng, cô hoäi hoaëc caû ñeán haïnh phuùc, nhöng toâi bieát toâi coù theå choïn nieàm vui.” * * * “Chuùng toâi ñaõ caàu nguyeän chöõa laønh. Thöôïng Ñeá khoâng ban cho. Nhöng Ngaøi ñaõ ban phöôùc cho chuùng toâi.” Glyn chaäm raõi noùi. Moät phaàn do quyeát tín cuûa Baø. Moät phaàn do beänh traïng. Don choàng Baø, ngoài treân chieác gheá beân caïnh. Ba ngöôøi chuùng toâi ñeán vôùi nhau ñeå dö lieäu leã taùng – cuûa Baø. Vaø baáy giôø, hoaïch ñònh xong, nhöõng baøi thaùnh ca ñaõ choïn, vaø nhöõng chæ daãn ñöôïc ghi nhaän. Glyn noùi: “Ngaøi ñaõ ban cho chuùng ta söùc löïc maø chuùng ta khoâng bieát. Ngaøi ñaõ ban ñieàu ñoù khi chuùng ta caàn, maø khoâng cho tröôùc.” Tieáng noùi Baø khan gioïng, nhöng roõ raøng. Ñoâi maét Baø ñaãm öôùt, nhöng töï tin. Toâi hoang mang khoâng bieát seõ ra sao khi söï soáng cuûa toâi maát ñi luùc tuoåi 45. Toâi hoang mang khoâng bieát seõ ra sao khi noùi lôøi vónh bieät vôï con. Toâi hoang mang khoâng bieát seõ ra sao khi chöùng kieán caùi cheát cuûa chính mình? “Thöôïng Ñeá ban söï bình an khi chuùng ta ñau ñôùn. Ngaøi luoân luoân baûo veä chuùng ta. Thaäm chí khi chuùng ta khoâng coøn töï cheá, Ngaøi vaãn ôû ñoù.” Ñaõ moät naêm töø khi Glyn vaø Don bieát ñöôïc beänh taøn pheá cô baép cuûa Glyn. Nguyeân nhaân vaø caùchï ñieàu trò vaãn coøn bí aån, nhöng keát quaû thì khoâng. Naêng löïc vaø ñoäng taùc baép thòt huûy hoaïi laàn hoài, chæ coøn laïi taâm trí vaø ñöùc tin. Vaø chính söï keát hôïp taâm trí vôùi ñöùc tin cuûa Glyn giuùp toâi nhaän thöùc raèng toâi ñang laøm ñieàu gì hôn laø döï ñònh leã taùng. Toâi ñang ngaém nhìn nhöõng vieân ngoïc thaùnh khieát Baø ñaõø khai thaùc ñöôïc töø haàm moû tuyeät voïng. “Chuùng ta coù theå duøng baát cöù thaûm traïng naøo nhö moät hoøn ñaù vaáp ngaõ hay moät beä ñaù böôùc leân... “Toâi hy voïng ñieàu naày seõ khoâng gaây cay ñaéng cho gia ñình. Toâi hy voïng coù theå laøm moät taám göông maø Thöôïng Ñeá muoán chuùng ta tin caäy nôi Ngaøi trong nhöõng thôøi kyø toát hay xaáu. Bôûi neáu chuùng ta khoâng tin caäy trong nhöõng thôøi khoù khaên, thì chuùng ta khoâng coù söï tin caäy naøo.” Don naém laáy tay vôï. OÂng lau nhöõng gioït nöôùc maét cuûa Baø. OÂng lau nhöõng gioït nöôùc maét chính mình. “Hai ngöôøi naày laø ai?” Toâi töï hoûi trong khi nhìn OÂng thaám moät khaên giaáy treân hai goø maù cuûa vôï. “Nhöõng ngöôøi naày laø ai, ai, treân bôø soâng cuoäc ñôøi, coù theå nhìn qua beân kia baèng ñöùc tin nhö vaäy?” Giaây phuùt nghieâm troïng vaø ngoït ngaøo. Toâi khoâng noùi ñöôïc nhieàu.Ngöôøi ta khoâng theå cöùng raén trong hieän dieän cuûa ñieàu thieâng lieâng. * * * Robert Reed noùi: “Toâi coù moïi ñieàu toâi caàn cho nieàm vui!” Toâi nghó: “Thaät laï luøng!” Baøn tay anh vaën veïo, baøn chaân anh voâ duïng. Anh khoâng theå töï mình taém. Anh khoâng theå töï mình aên. Anh khoâng theå chaø raêng mình. chaûi toùc mình, hay maëc ñoà loùt cho mình. AÙo anh ñöôïc gheùp laïi baèng nhöõng mieáng Velcro. Tieáng noùi anh keùo leát nhö baêng cassette nhaõo. Robert mang beänh lieät naõo. Caên beänh khieán anh khoâng theå laùi xe hôi, xe ñaïp, vaø ñi boä. Nhöng noù khoâng caám ñöôïc anh toát nghieäp trung hoïc vaø nhaäp vaøo Ñaïi hoïc Abilene Cöùu Theá Giaùo, nôi ñaây anh toát nghieäp vôùi moät trình ñoä veà Latin. Chöùng lieät naõo khoâng caám ñöôïc anh giaûng daïy trong moät tröôøng Cao ñaúng caáp 1 ôû St. Louis vaø lieàu lónh vöôït truøng döông treân naêm chuyeán söù giaùo. Vaø chöùng beänh cuûa Robert khoâng ngaên ñöôïc anh trôû thaønh moät giaùo só taïi Portugal. Naêm 1972, Anh di chuyeån ñeán Lisbon, moät mình. ÔÛ ñoù, Anh thueâ moät phoøng khaùch saïn. vaø khôûi söï hoïc tieáng Portuguese. Anh gaëp moät chuû nhaø haøng cho anh aên sau giôø cao ñieåm, vaø moät phuï giaùo daïy anh veà ngoân ngöõ. Sau ñoù, haèng ngaøy Anh töï ñaët mình trong moät coâng vieân, Taïi ñaây, Anh phaùt taëng nhöõng saùch nhoû veà Ñaáng Christ. Trong voøng saùu naêm, Anh ñöa baûy möôi ngöôøi ñeán vôùi Chuùa, moät ngöôøi trong soá ñoù, Rosa, trôû thaønh vôï Anh. Gaàn ñaây, toâi coù nghe Robert giaûng. Toâi nhìn nhöõng ngöôøi khaùc khieâng Anh leân toøa giaûng treân moät chieác gheá laên. Toâi nhìn hoï ñaët moät quyeån Kinh Thaùnh treân ñuøi Anh. Toâi nhìn nhöõng ngoùn tay khoâ cöùng coá söùc laät töøng trang. Vaø toâi nhìn ñaùm thính giaû lau nhöõng gioït nöôùc maét ngöôõng moä treân maët hoï. Robert ñaõ coù theå caàu xin söï thöông xoùt hay thöông haïi, nhöng Anh laøm ngöôïc laïi. Anh giô cao baøn tay cong veïo cuûa Anh leân khoâng trung vaø töï haøo: “Toâi coù moïi ñieàu toâi caàn cho nieàm vui.” Chieác aùo cuûa Anh ñöôïc gheùp laïi baèng Velcro, nhöng cuoäc ñôøi Anh ñöôïc keát hôïp baèng nieàm vui.” * * * Khoâng ngöôøi naøo coù lyù do khoán khoù hôn Ngöôøi naày – duø vaäy khoâng ngöôøi naøo ñöôïcï vui möøng hôn. Ngoâi nhaø tröôùc tieân cuûa Ngöôøi laø moät cung ñieän. Caùc toâi tôù ôû ñaàu ngoùn tay Ngöôøi. Moät buùng tay cuûa Ngöôøi thay ñoåi tieán trình lòch söû. Danh Ngöôøi ai cuõng bieát vaø kính yeâu. Ngöôøi coù moïi ñieàu – giaøu sang, quyeàn pheùp vaø toân troïng. Vaø sau ñoù, Ngöôøi khoâng coù gì caû. Caùc sinh vieân cuûa bieán coá vaãn suy gaãm ñieàu naày. Caùc söû gia chôùi vôùi khi coá thöû giaûi thích. Laøm sao moät thieân vöông coù theå maát taát caû trong choác laùt? Moät luùc Ngöôøi laø vöông giaû, luùc sau Ngöôøi trôû neân ngheøo khoù. Choã naèm cuûa Ngöôøi, toát nhaát, laø taám ñeäm rôm taïm möôïn – vaø thöôøng laø neàn ñaát cöùng. Ngöôøi chöa heà coù rieâng moät phöông tieän chuyeân chôû toái thieåu, vaø lôïi töùc cuûa Ngöôøi laø nhöõng cuûa hieán daâng. Ñoâi khi Ngöôøi quaù ñoùi neân aên haït soáng hoaëc haùi traùi treân caây. Ngöôøi bieát theá naøo laø daàm möa, theá naøo laø giaù laïnh. Ngöôøi bieát yù nghóa cuûa voâ gia cö! Neàn cung ñieän tröôùc kia cuûa Ngöôøi khoâng veát baån, nay Ngöôøi hoøa mình vôùi oâ ueá. Ngöôøi chöa heà bieát oám ñau, nay nhöõng keû beänh vaây quanh Ngöôøi. Trong vöông quoác Ngöôøi ñöôïc toân kính, baây giôø Ngöôøi bò cheá nhaïo. Nhöõng keû laân caän quyeát taâm haõm haïi Ngöôøi. Moät soá goïi Ngöôøi laø maát trí. Gia ñình tìm caùch quaûn cheá Ngöôøi taïi nhaø hoï. Nhöõng keû khoâng cheá nhaïo Ngöôøi, thì lôïi duïng Ngöôøøi. Hoï muoán nhöõng aân hueä. Hoï muoán löøa bòp. Ngöôøi laø söï môùi laï. Hoï muoán ñöôïc xuaát hieän vôùi Ngöôøi – nghóa laø, ôû beân caïnh Ngöôøi cho tôùi khi khoâng coøn hôïp thôøi. Sau ñoù hoï muoán gieát Ngöôøi. Ngöôøi bò caùo moät troïng toäi maø Ngöôøi chaúng phaïm. Caùc chöùng nhaân ñöôïc thueâ ñeå chöùng doái. Hoäi thaåm ñoaøn bò giaät daây. Khoâng moät luaät sö ñöôïc ñeà cöû ñeå baûo veä Ngöôøi. Moät thaåm phaùn nhaän lònh töø chính trò ñeå tuyeân aùn töû hình. Hoï ñaõ gieát Ngöôøi. Ngöôøi ra ñi nhö Ngöôøi ñaõ ñeán – khoâng moät xu. Ngöôøi ñöôïc choân trong moät hang huyeät taïm möôïn, baïn beø thöông caûm taøi trôï leã taùng Ngöôøi. Duø moät laàn Ngöôøi coù taát caû, Ngöôøi naèm xuoáng vôùi baøn tay khoâng. Ngöôøi ñaõ coù theå khoán khoù. Ngöôøi ñaõ coù theå ñaéng cay. Ngöôøi coù moïi quyeàn trôû thaønh moät baàu thònh noä soâi suïc. Nhöng Ngöôøi khoâng phaûi vaäy. Ngöôøi luoân vui möøng. Nhöõng keû nhaên nhoù khoâng keùo ñöôïc ñaùm ñoâng. Daân chuùng theo Ngöôøi nôi naøo Ngöôøi ñeán. Treû con laån traùnh keû cau coù. Treû con chaïy theo sau Ngöôøi. Ñaùm ñoâng khoâng tuï laïi ñeå nghe nhöõng ñau buoàn. Ñaùm ñoâng noân naùo ñeán nghe Ngöôøi. Taïi sao? Ngöôøi luoân vui möøng. Ngöôøi vui möøng khi Ngöôøi ngheøo khoù. Ngöôøi vui möøng khi Ngöôøi bò boû rôi. Ngöôøi vui möøng khi Ngöôøi bò phaûn boäi. Thaäm chí, Ngöôøi vui möøng khi Ngöôøi bò treo treân moät duïng cuï haønh hình, hai baøn tay Ngöôøi bò ñaâm baèng nhöõng caây ñinh cuûa La maû daøi 6 phaân Anh. Chuùa Jesus laø hieän thaân cuûa nieàm vui cöông quyeát. Moät nieàm vui töø choái cuùi mình trong côn gioù hoaïn naïn. Moät nieàm vui nhaát taâm choáng laïi ñôùn ñau. Moät nieàm vui baùm reã saâu trong neàn ñaù vónh cöûu. Coù theå ñaây laø nôi Beverly Hills ñaõ hoïc ñieàu naày. Khoâng nghi ngôø, ñaây laø nôi Glyn Johnson vaø Robert Reed ñaõ hoïc ñieàu naày. Vaø ñaây cuõng laø nôi chuùng ta coù theå hoïc ñieàu naày. Ñaây laø loaïi nieàm vui naøo? Loaïi nieàm vui naøo daùm khinh thöôøng keû ñoái nghòch. Con chim naøo coù theå hoùt líu lo khi baàu trôøi taêm toái. Nguoàn coäi bình an naøo baát chaáp khoå ñau? Toâi goïi ñoù laø nieàm vui thoûa thieâng lieâng. Noù thieâng lieâng bôûi noù khoâng thuoäc theá gian. Ñieàu naøo thieâng lieâng thuoäc veà Thöôïng Ñeá. Vaø nieàm vui naày thuoäc veà Thöôïng Ñeá. Ñaây laø nieàm vui thoûa, bôûi söï vui thoûa coù theå ñem laïi thoûa maõn vaø baát ngôø. Vui thoûa khi caùc muïc ñoàng Bethlehem tung taêng nhaûy muùa ngoaøi hang ñaù. Vui thoûa luùc Mary ngaém nhìn Thöôïng Ñeá nguû yeân trong maùng coû. Vui thoûa luùc Simeon toùc baïc ngôïi toân Thöôïng Ñeá saép nhaän pheùp caét bì. Vui thoûa khi Joseph daïy Ñaáng Saùng Taïo theá gian caùch duøng caây buùa. Vui thoûa khi Andrew nhìn vaøo gioû baùnh chaúng bao giôø caïn. Vui thoûa luùc khaùch döï tieäc cöôùi say söa uoáng röôïu ngon bieán töø nöôùc laõ. Vui thoûa khi Chuùa Jesus löôùt treân soùng bieån nheï nhaøng nhö Baïn chui qua taám maøn the. Vui thoûa khi ngöôøi phung thaáy ngoùn tay mình moïc ra treân baøn tay trô truïi..., khi goùa phuï möøng ñaõi khaùch baèng thöùc aên chuaån bò cho ñaùm tang (con mình soáng laïi)..., vaø khi ngöôøi baïi lieät muùa roái nhaûy tung. Vui thoûa khi Chuùa Jesus laøm ñieàu baát khaû, baèng phöông caùch xem nhö roà daïi: chöõa maét ngöôøi muø baèng nöôùc boït, traû thueá baèng tieàn laáy töø mieäng caù, vaø soáng laïi töø theå cheát roài hoùa hình nhö keû laøm vöôøn. Nieàm vui thoûa thieâng lieâng laø gì? Ñoù laø Thöôïng Ñeá laøm nhöõng ñieàu maø caùc thaàn khaùc chæ laøm trong nhöõng giaác mô hoang daïi cuûa Baïn – maëc taû loùt thuôûû haøi nhi, côûi löøa vinh quang vaøo thaønh, röûa chaân cho moân ñoà, nguû yeân trong baûo toá. Vui thoûa laø ngaøy hoï caùo toäi Thöôïng Ñeá quaù ham vui, döï quùa nhieàu tieäc tuøng, chung chaï quaù nhieàu vôùi ñaùm ngöôøi nhaäu nheït. Vui thoûa laø traû löông troïn ngaøy cho nhöõng lao coâng chæ laøm vieäc moät giôø..., ngöôøi cha taém röûa cho con saïch muøi phaân heo..., gaû muïc ñoàng theát tieäc möøng vì tìm ñöôïc con chieân laïc maát. Vui thoûa laø tìm ñöôïc haït ngoïc trai, ta laâng ñöôïc gia boäi, keû aên maøy nhaûy nhoùt, toäi nhaân ñöôïc vaøo thieân quoác. Vui thoûa laø göông maët ngôõ ngaøng cuûa nhöûng ngöôøi lang thang ngoaøi phoá ñöôïc môøi döï tieäc trong hoaøng cung. Vui thoûa laø ngöôøi nöõ Samaritan nôû to ñoâi maét, khoâng noùi neân lôøi, ngöôøi nöõ taø daâm thoaùt khoûi saân neùm ñaù, vaø moät Peter toâi tôù, nhaûy xuoáng bieån laïnh ñeå ñöôïc gaàn ngöôøi maø OÂng ñaõ vaáp phaïm. Vui thoûa thieâng lieâng laø tin möøng ñi vaøo ngoõ sau tim Baïn. Laø ñieàu Baïn luoân mô öôùc maø chaúng troâng ñôïi bao giôø. Laø ñieàu quaù thaät ñeå trôû thaønh söï thaät. Laø coù Thöôïng Ñeá nhö moät ngöôøi tieáp öùng kòp thôøi, moät luaät sö, moät ngöôøi cha, moät ngöôøi uûng hoä maïnh nhaát, moät ngöôøi baïn toát nhaát cuûa Baïn. Moät Thöôïng Ñeá beân caïnh Baïn, trong loøng Baïn, ñi tröôùc Baïn, baûo veä sau löng Baïn. Vui thoûa laøø hy voïng nôi naøo Baïn ít troâng chôø nhaát: moät caønh hoa beân veä ñöôøng trong ñôøi Baïn. Thieâng lieâng vì chæ Thöôïng Ñeá coù theå ban cho Baïn. Vui thoûa vì ñieàu ñoù caûm kích Baïn. Bôûi thieâng lieâng neân khoâng theå cöôùp ñoïat. Vaø bôûi thoûa loøng neân khoâng theå ñònh tröôùc. Ñoù laø nieàm vui nhaûy muùa treân Bieån Ñoû. Ñoù laø nieàm vui troåi keøn taïi Jericho. Ñoù laø ñieàu bí aån khieán Mary ca ngôïi. Ñoù laø söï baát ngôø mang tieát xuaân vaøo buoåi saùng Phuïc sinh. Ñoù laø nieàm vui cuûa Thöôïng Ñeá. Nieàm vui thoûa thieâng lieâng. {

} She has every reason to be bitter. Though talented, she went unrecognized for years. Prestigious opera circles closed their ranks when she tried to enter. American critics ignored her compelling voice. She was repeatedly rejected for parts for which she easily qualified. It was only after she went to Europe and won the hearts of tough-to-please European audiences that stateside opinion leaders acknowledged her talent. Not only has her professional life been a battle, her personal life has been marked by challenge. She is the mother of two handicapped children, one of whom is severely retarded. Years ago, in order to escape the pace of New York City, she purchased a home on Martha's Vineyard. It burned to the ground two days before she was to move in. Professional rejection. Personal setbacks. Perfect soil for the seeds of bitterness. A receptive field for the roots of resentment. But in this case, anger found no home. Her friends don't call her bitter; they call her "Bubbles." Beverly Sills. Internationally acclaimed opera singer. Retired director of the New York City Opera. Her phrases are sugared with laughter. Her face is softened with serenity. Upon interviewing her, Mike Wallace stated that "she is one of the most impressive - if not the most impressive - ladies I've ever interviewed." How can a person handle such professional rejection and personal trauma and still be known as Bubbles? "I choose to be cheerful," she says. "Years ago I knew I had little or no choice about success, circumstances or even happiness; but I knew I could choose to be cheerful." * * * "We have prayed for healing. God has not given it. But he has blessed us." Glyn spoke slowly. Partly because of her conviction. Partly because of her disease. Her husband, Don, sat in the chair next to her. The three of us had come together to plan a funeral -hers. And now, with that task done, with the hymns selected and the directions given, Glyn spoke. "He has given us strength we did not know. He gave it when we needed it and not before." Her words were slurred, but clear. Her eyes were moist, but confident. I wondered what it would be like to have my life taken from me at age forty-five. I wondered what it would be like to say good-bye to my children and spouse. I wondered what it would be like to be a witness to my own death. "God has given us peace in our pain. He covers us all the time. Even when we are out of control, he is still there." It had been a year since Glyn and Don had learned of Glyn's condition - amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (Lou Gehrig's disease). The cause and the cure remain a mystery. But the result doesn't. Muscle strength and mobility steadily deteriorate, leaving only the mind and the faith. And it was the coming together of Glyn's mind and faith that caused me to realize I was doing more than planning a funeral. I was beholding holy jewels she had quarried out of the mine of despair. "We can use any tragedy as a stumbling block or a stepping stone.... "I hope this will not cause my family to be bitter. I hope I can be an example that God is wanting us to trust in the good times and the bad. For if we don't trust when times are tough, we don't trust at all." Don held her hand. He wiped her tears. He wiped his own. "Who are these two?" I asked myself as I watched him touch a tissue to her cheek. "Who are these, who, on the edge of life's river, can look across with such faith?" The moment was solemn and sweet. I said little. One is not bold in the presence of the sacred. * * * "I have everything I need for joy!" Robert Reed said. "Amazing."' I thought. His hands are twisted and his feet are useless. He can't bathe himself. He can't feed himself. He can't brush his teeth, comb his hair, or put on his underwear. His shirts are held together by strips of Velcro. His speech drags like a worn-out audio cassette. Robert has cerebral palsy. The disease keeps him from driving a car, riding a bike, and going for a walk. But it didn't keep him from graduating from high school or attending Abilene Christian University, from which he graduated with a degree in Latin. Having cerebral palsy didn't keep him from teaching at a St. Louis junior college or from venturing overseas on five mission trips. And Robert's disease didn't prevent him from becoming a missionary in Portugal. He moved to Lisbon, alone, in 1972. There he rented a hotel room and began studying Portuguese. He found a restaurant owner who would feed him after the rush hour and a tutor who would instruct him in the language. Then he stationed himself daily in a park, where he distributed brochures about Christ. Within six years he led seventy people to the Lord, one of whom became his wife, Rosa. I heard Robert speak recently. I watched other men carry him in his wheelchair onto the platform. I watched them lay a Bible in his lap. I watched his stiff fingers force open the pages. And I watched people in the audience wipe away tears of admiration from their faces. Robert could have asked for sympathy or pity, but he did just the opposite. He held his bent hand up in the air and boasted, "I have everything I need for joy." His shirts are held together by Velcro, but his life is held together by joy. * * * No man had more reason to be miserable than this one -yet no man was more joyful. His first home was a palace. Servants were at his fingertips. The snap of his fingers changed the course of history. His name was known and loved. He had everything - wealth, power, respect. And then he had nothing. Students of the event still ponder it. Historians stumble as they attempt to explain it. How could a king lose everything in one instant? One moment he was royalty; the next he was in poverty. His bed became, at best, a borrowed pallet - and usually the hard earth. He never owned even the most basic mode of transportation and was dependent upon handouts for his income. He was sometimes so hungry he would eat raw grain or pick fruit off a tree. He knew what it was like to be rained on, to be cold. He knew what it meant to have no home. His palace grounds had been spotless; now he was exposed to filth. He had never known disease, but was now surrounded by illness. In his kingdom he had been revered; now he was ridiculed. His neighbors tried to lynch him. Some called him a lunatic. His family tried to confine him to their house. Those who didn't ridicule him tried to use him. They wanted favors. They wanted tricks. He was a novelty. They wanted to be seen with him - that is, until being with him was out of fashion. Then they wanted to kill him. He was accused of a crime he never committed. Witnesses were hired to lie. The jury was rigged. No lawyer was assigned to his defense. A judge swayed by politics handed down the death penalty. They killed him. He left as he came - penniless. He was buried in a borrowed grave, his funeral financed by compassionate friends. Though he once had everything, he died with nothing. He should have been miserable. He should have been bitter. He had every right to be a pot of boiling anger. But he wasn’t. He was joyful. Sourpusses don't attract a following. People followed him wherever he went. Children avoid soreheads. Children scampered after this man. Crowds don't gather to listen to the woeful. Crowds clamored to hear him. Why? He was joyful. He was joyful when he was poor. He was joyful when he was abandoned. He was joyful when he was betrayed. He was even joyful as he hung on a tool of torture, his hands pierced with six-inch Roman spikes. Jesus embodied a stubborn joy. A joy that refused to bend in the wind of hard times. A joy that held its ground against pain. A joy whose roots extended deep into the bedrock of eternity. Perhaps that's where Beverly Sills learned it. Without doubt, that is where Glyn Johnson and Robert Reed learned it. And that is where we can learn it. What type of joy is this? What is this cheerfulness that dares to wink at adversity? What is this bird that sings while it is still dark? What is the source of this peace that defies pain? I call it sacred delight. It is sacred because it is not of the earth. What is sacred is God's. And this joy is God's. It is delight because delight can both satisfy and surprise. Delight is the Bethlehem shepherds dancing a jig outside a cave. Delight is Mary watching God sleep in a feed trough. Delight is white-haired Simeon praising God, who is about to be circumcised. Delight is Joseph teaching the Creator of the world how to hold a hammer. Delight is the look on Andrew's face at the lunch pail that never came up empty. Delight is the dozing wedding guests who drank the wine that had been water. Delight is Jesus walking through waves as casually as you walk through curtains. Delight is a leper seeing a finger where there had been only a nub..., a widow hosting a party with food made for a funeral..., a paraplegic doing somersaults. Delight is Jesus doing impossible things in crazy ways: healing the blind with spit, paying taxes with a coin found in a fish's mouth, and coming back from the dead disguised as a gardener. What is sacred delight? It is God doing what gods would be doing only in your wildest dreams - wearing diapers, riding donkeys, washing feet, dozing in storms. Delight is the day they accused God of having too much fun, attending too many parties, and spending too much time with the Happy Hour crowd. Delight is the day's wage paid to workers who had worked only one hour..., the father scrubbing the pig smell off his son's back..., the shepherd throwing a party because the sheep was found. Delight is a discovered pearl, a multiplied talent, a heaven-bound beggar, a criminal in the kingdom. Delight is the surprise on the faces of street folks who have been invited to a king's banquet. Delight is the Samaritan woman big-eyed and speechless, the adulteress walking out of the stone-cluttered courtyard, and a skivvy-clad Peter plunging into cold waters to get close to the one he'd cursed. Sacred delight is good news coming through the hack door of your heart. It's what you'd always dreamed but never expected. It's the too-good-to-be-true coming true. It's having God as your pinch-hitter, your lawyer, your dad, your biggest fan, and your best friend. God on your side, in your heart, out in front, and protecting your back. It's hope where you least expected it: a flower in life's sidewalk. It is sacred because only God can grant it. It is a delight because it thrills. Since it is sacred, it can't be stolen. And since it is delightful, it can't be predicted. It was this gladness that danced through the Red Sea. It was this joy that blew the trumpet at Jericho. It was this secret that made Mary sing. It was this surprise that put the springtime into Easter morning. It is God's gladness. It's sacred delight. (Excerpt from Sacred Delight by Max Lucado) {

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