Honoring God with shouts of joy
There is a great deal in the Old Testament portion of the Bible about honoring God with the joyful “shout.” There is even an instance where God led His people forth with His own joyful “shout.” This time of year, I can appreciate joyful shouting.
Yesterday it was gray flannel every direction. Misty and foggy and rainy. And then in the night came the joyful shout. At least, that's what the thunder seemed to me.
February melts away this week. I always give a shout on the threshold of March. My favorite spring trilogy is just ahead — April, May, and June. This one is more than I could have hoped. A nearly 50-year dream is shouting — my first children's book about to be published.
Terry and I have a grand who works in security at Gonzaga University. There was a joyful shout when she sent a message saying, “Guess who got tickets for the Zags and St. Mary's game!!!” She's allowed one guest, and her Zags fan grandpa attended his first-ever in-person game last Saturday. According to him, McCarthey Athletic Center was a two-hour explosion of shout.
The game was lost — from a Zags point of view — but the shout is ready for next time. And that's what a shout has to do — stay ready. We've got a current woe. Terry seems to have internal shingles — having some testing to rule out other possibilities. He did OK at the basketball game but was a hurting machine when he came home. You can bet our shout is going to ring out when we get this figured out.
Our daughter called with a joyful shout — she's completed a course for teaching ESL to immigrant students. Now to build a clientele. She attended an art event last minute at her apartment complex in the Minneapolis metro — and ended up sitting next to a Ukrainian woman who just happens to have many friends in need of her class.
Another daughter's family road tripped from Kentucky to Merritt Island, Florida, to see the new February baby. There were shouts for little Esther — and shouts from her young aunts and uncle splashing in the surf — and then ordinary chatting in the house, when the place shook. Another shout from the new dad, “Rocket!” The family ran out to watch a Cape Canaveral rocket launch from the front porch.
It's hard to get those Priest Lake camping spots — especially with beach real estate. A shout rose through the roof when I scored a site earlier this month for two weeks in August. Doesn't hurt the psyche to feel sand between the toes, and the scent of a balmy evening marshmallow roast — on an icy February day.
Of course, we caught the flu like everybody — nothing much to shout about. But it was a shout when we regained energy. The joyful shout is an offering to God. It's a giving of thanks for those good things that come our way.
And when it seems there is no shout — just wait. Keep it close by. Because a joyful shout is coming.