Here is the question: What is something that makes you happy? Don’t overthink it. There are no wrong answers, this is not a test. What comes into your mind when you think of something that makes you happy? It might not be the thing that brings you the most happiness of all, but it is something.
Did you think of something? I hope you did; I hope you thought of many things that make you happy. Everyone should have happiness. Who ever said, “There is too much happiness in the world?” No one. Ever. Except maybe Scrooge.
And the good thing is happiness is, at least to an extent, under our control. If watching a “Die Hard” movie makes you happy, great. If it doesn’t make you happy, don’t watch it. If sitting on the beach getting all sandy and sweaty doesn’t make you happy, then don’t do it. If eating ice cream doesn’t make you happy, then don’t eat ice cream – but, seriously, if eating ice cream doesn’t make you happy then I just don’t know.
The point is, it serves us well to know what brings us happiness and what doesn’t because knowing can help us increase our happiness. Maybe.
And maybe not. Because sometimes happiness seems elusive. Just out of our grasp.
In our scripture today we are eavesdropping on a conversation between two friends. Paul, the older apostle, and Timothy, the young man, apostle in training. And we don’t necessarily know why they are having this particular conversation. We don’t know who they might be talking about – perhaps there are other preachers in Ephesus whom Paul does not hold in high esteem. We can only make inferences from the fragments we have – but what I think we are hearing in these words gives us something about the secret to happiness.
During this whole month we have been working on a reboot, as we examine certain aspects of life that we all share in common and, with the help of the epistles, wonder how we might approach them differently. We took a look at the question of reconciliation. And, if we have been in the habit of walking away from old relationships that have gone bad, is God perhaps calling us to seek reconciliation?
We took a look at the matter of regrets. It doesn’t really serve us well to say we have no regrets if we have not ever examined our failures in any honest way. But once we have been honest with ourselves and God about our particular failures and shortcomings, and we have followed God’s urgings to make amends in some way, then we might truly be able to say we have no regrets. Until the next time, anyway.
We looked at the practice of prayer in our lives and wondered what the purpose of prayer is for us. We often approach prayer as a means to change our circumstances or change other people. But how often do we see prayer as a way to be transformed ourselves?
And honestly, transformation is what this whole reboot has been about. When I reboot my computer I want to it go back to being perfect. Which it probably won’t, I know. I also know that we won’t either – become perfect. Perfection won’t be found on this side of the mirror. But with a reboot, perhaps that mirror will become a little less dark, our vision a little less dim.
And if we find that our vision grows clearer, the light grows a bit brighter, might we then discover a growing sense of happiness?
Or, contentment, as Paul puts it in this letter to Timothy. Contentment – which is kind of like happiness that sticks around.
So, how do we get this happiness that sticks around? Is there a secret to it?
I took a family psychology class once and we were presented with some research on happiness. The researchers asked people at random times of the day to rate how happy they were. And they found in this study that parents of young children were significantly less happy than other people. Based on their own responses, in real time.
I was the working mother of a young child at that time. So the results didn’t surprise me at all. I knew that if someone stopped me at any random time of the day or night and asked me, “Are you happy right now?” I might not respond with a smiley face. I knew this was true. But I knew that wasn’t all there was to it.
My sense of happiness in the moment, in the daily grind of parenting and working, was in no way a reflection of the deep happiness inside of me that came from the love I experienced in this life I was living.
This was a secret that I was just beginning to know, but about which I had a whole lot left to learn. It is possible no one else in my class knew it even a little bit, yet, because they were all young single people who were free to do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. People who, after hearing these research findings probably began to develop a bit of healthy fear about the prospect of becoming a parent. As one should. In any case, what I was beginning to suspect was this: The secret to happiness might be that it is hidden underneath unlikely things. And this happiness that sticks around might be found in surprising ways. Just listen to this story Eric Law tells about his own family life.
Eric grew up in a family of Chinese immigrants, people who were not at all rich in material things. Each night at the dinner table, the family would sit down to dinner – and there were usually guests at the table: relatives, friends, people who worked with them. They weren’t rich, but they made it go around. The dishes were passed, and everyone filled their plates. Of course, no one would want to take the last piece – we all know how that is. So inevitably, at the end of the meal there would be one piece of something left – meat if they were lucky – sitting on the platter in the center of the table. After some silence, while they all looked at the food, one person would speak.
“Grandma, why don’t you take that last piece? You’re the oldest; you should have it.” And Grandma would say, “Oh no, I don’t need it. I’ve been eating that stuff all my life. The children should have it because they’re growing.” And Grandma would look at the youngest child and say, “Why don’t you take it?”
And the youngest child, having been taught well, would say something like my stomach is too small, and turn to an older sibling and say, “You have an exam tomorrow, you should take it.” Then this older child would play his part in the ritual and offer it to someone else who was more deserving. This went on until everyone had offered it to someone else; everyone had affirmed another’s worthiness in the family. And the last piece of food would still be sitting on the platter. It would be put away to be made into something wonderful the next day. It was a ritual that made this family appreciate the abundance they shared.
Paul said in another of his letters, “I have learned to be content with whatever I have…I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need.” (Philippians 4:11-12). Could it be that the secret to finding happiness is to finally stop seeking your own happiness?
When we use our wealth to serve ourselves, it will always seem like not enough. But when we let the riches God bestows on us become a means to serve others, then we will feel really rich.
When we live for ourselves, our lives will be very small, but when we live for someone else, we find, in Paul’s words, the life that really is life.
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